Revolt of the Archers
by Kal Ancalas
Summary: Yes, I'm alive. And I owe a few of you some explaining. Please spare a dozen minutes or so of your time, if you could.
1. The Price of Power

**Revolt of the Archers **

A Maple Story Fanfic by Kal Ancalas

Author's Note: I haven't written a multi-chapter in quite a long while, but boredom got the better of me one day. So…yeah. 'Nuff said.

The sources from which I draw inspiration to write this (and on occasion blatantly borrow) are mostly the Eragon series, Tales of Symphonia, and Tales of the Abyss. (Two characters that appear later on are based on characters from TotA.)

Enough ranting. Let's get on with this story.

-Kal Ancalas/ZerPheonix74

-----

"Are you sure you want to take the path of the bowman?" Athena Pierce eyed the young, dark-haired boy standing in front of her, eagerly.

"Yeah." He nodded fervently, literally bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"It's not going to be easy, you know." Her knowing eyes rested on him for a moment. "The skills of a bowman are much more difficult to master than those of the other classes. You'll have to work extremely hard if you want to reach your ultimate goal."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." he spluttered impatiently.

She raised an eyebrow. _He'll go to pieces, this one. But at least he's got determination. _"Very well." she sighed. "Please give me your hand."

He quickly held out his sweaty palm. She curled her fingers around his and murmured a few lines of ancient text, as she'd done so many times before. There was a brilliant but small flash of golden light, and the mark of the archer was then imprinted on the young boy's palm.

"Use your gift wisely." she admonished him.

He ran out without another word, no doubt to get his hands on his first bow and some arrows. Her knowing eyes followed him balefully. Somehow, something didn't rest easily with her.

Whenever something didn't rest easily with the founder of Henesys, something was really wrong.

-----

An eleven-year old Gault Isentryx ran out onto the beautiful fields of Henesys, his shoes gliding swiftly across the ground as he fervently clutched his beautiful blue War Bow in hand. A quiver of arrows was attached to his back.

Gault was a short, dark-haired youth, his hair hanging slightly past his shoulders. His pupils were a gentle shade of garnet, but could- and often did- turn dark crimson with emotion. After receiving the blessing from Athena Pierce herself, he'd felt totally on top of the world. Only Level 10, but a legend in the making.

"I'll be the best archer in the world someday." he smiled to himself, taking out an arrow and nocking it to his bowstring.

Fanciful words, those. Every single prospective archer had eagerly said those very same words, right after receiving their blessing from the bowmaster that ruled over Henesys, clutching a blue bow and a handful of arrows.

But none had actually ever reached that goal. No matter how hard and how tirelessly you strived, there was always someone far more skilled than you. That was the unspoken law of the world. Most people realized this in their midlives, put away their weapons, and settled down into a quiet, secluded life, raising crops or making tools for a living and raising families. Something like that.

Gault was not one of them. His raven-black hair and dark eyes glittered eagerly, amost maniacally, in the sunlight. He was determined, at all costs, to make a name for himself in the beautiful world of Bera.

He pulled the string back and released the arrow. It flew through the air with a satisfying whirr and planted itself in the back of a Stump. The creature turned around to see who had fired the arrow, but too late. With lightning speed, Gault had whipped out another arrow, and with a quick flick of his wrist, struck it dead. He collected its branch and marched off, quite pleased with himself.

"Let's try out this trick." he murmured, flipping through a small book that Athena had given him, titled _The Skills of an Archer. _He glanced through the numerous techniques, riffling impatiently through the pages with his childish fingers, until he found exactly what he wanted.

He brought another arrow up to his bow and closed his eyes, the words from his text fresh in his mind. _Let your mind do the seeing. As an archer, your dexterity enhances all your senses. Hearing, smell, touch, and taste…There is nothing that escapes you. Look within yourself, and find the power. Let it suffuse you._

Still smiling, his eyes closed, he released the arrow with satisfaction. A small flash of blue light erupted from the symbol on his palm and melded with his arrow. The blade of blue whizzed through the air for a moment before striking a Slime. With a bang and a squeal, there was a shower of blue sparks as it fell dead with a last squish.

"Yes!" He pumped his fist. "Arrow Blow rules!" He dashed off, killing more monsters in a similar manner. He was totally addicted to the feeling, the power coursing through his veins, the thrill of the ability to deal death with a flick of his wrist. There was nothing that could stop him.

Nothing.

"Thunderbolt!"

His arrow whizzed through thin air and fell uselessly in the grass, as a brilliant flash of blue-white lightning, brighter than his own technique, struck down the stray snail he'd been eyeing. Furiously, he whipped around to see a magician, a warrior and an assassin standing before him. Probably in their level 30's. All of them wore cruel smiles.

"What was that for?" Gault spat, annoyed.

"Aww, ish the wittle baby scared?" the warrior mocked.

Gault felt his face and eyes turn a hot red. "I'm eleven!" he retorted.

"And we're fourteen. Nice knowing you." the warrior shot back. "Slash Blast!" He swung his sword in a wide arc, slicing through the monsters around him before Gault could even draw an arrow from his quiver.

"Stop that!" he commanded with all the authority that an eleven-year old could muster, pointing a finger at them.

"Stop that!" the wizard mocked. "That's cute. What are you gonna do?" He flicked his wrist. "Thunderbolt!"

"Slash Blast!"

"Thunderbolt!"

"Lucky Seven!"

"Slash Blast!"

"Thunderbolt!"

"Lucky Seven!"

Finally, out of fury, Gault swiftly whipped an arrow out and shot at a nearby snail. It struck true, the snail dying with a loud squeal, and he cheered in triumph at his small victory.

"Aw, the wittle baby got a hit." The warrior laughed cruelly. "Well, here's a hit for you!"

He struck out cruelly with his sword, the steel crushing through the soft wood of the bow, breaking it into splinters. The tip of the blade nicked Gault on the elbow and he fell to the ground, bleeding and stuck with splinters. Hot, hateful tears of fury came to his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

"Heh, does wittle baby want a tissue?" the trio laughed, cruelly, before leaving.

Gault panted fiercely as he lay on the ground, his blood slowly oozing onto the soft grass. But it wasn't his wounds that truly hurt him. It was their cruel laughs and taunts that pierced his heart like arrows.

_I will get my revenge on you all. Someday._

His pupils glowed a fierce crimson as he lay in the grass.

_-----_

_Three Years Later_

My name is Zeraion Phoenix.

I was born eleven years ago in Henesys; today's my eleventh birthday.

Today, I'm going to be an archer.

It's not the kind of thing that runs in the family. I have two brothers, one older, one younger. My older brother's name is Ark Wolfen. My little brother's name is Ascion Blade. We all have two first names, for some reason. I have a last name, but I can't tell you what it is. My parents never told me what mine was, since everyone has to protect their last name. I never really knew why, but Mom and Dad used to tell me it was really important. "Beware of the necromancers." they used to say. "If they find out your name, you're in trouble."

Some people make up last names, but most people just use their first names in conversation. It's not a big deal. Both of my parents are now gone. Mom died after giving birth to Ascion, but we've never held it over him. I know it's not his fault. Dad left a few years ago to do an errand, and he never came back. I don't know what happened to him, and I don't want to know, but I hope he's still alive out there. I really miss him. He'd be proud.

Ark is a fighter. He went off to Perion some time ago to train, and came back with a huge axe over his shoulder. Dad made a big deal out of it when he came back, but Ark was too modest. He's like that. He probably could be a Crusader by now, but ever since Dad left, he hasn't trained much. Instead, he's been like a role model to Ascion and me, taking care of the house, making meals, stuff like that. Ascion doesn't have a job yet, he's still a little kid, but we're hoping he grows up to be someone. He's been talking about being a cleric.

Me, I wanna be an archer. At first, when Ark came home with that big axe, I wanted to be a warrior, but when I heard about the training he went through, I kinda put it off. I don't want to be a magician and bury my head in books all the time either, and I don't want to be a thief, having to live off garbage and steal pocket change for a living. So, I made up my mind to be an archer. They look so cool, with their bows and arrows, and with all that running they do, they don't look too shabby either. Granted, I know it'll be a lot of work, but everything's a lot of work. That's one of the things Dad taught me.

I want to be the best archer in the world, but like Dad said, it'll be a lot of work. But I don't care. I want to be someone respected, who can deliver death with a flick of my wrist. Maybe, like my big bro, I could even take the second job advancement, but I don't worry about the third job advancement. I've heard stories about the Rangers. They're legends. "Their power pierces the skies and rains destruction on all evil." Or something like that. But I'll never be like that. I know I don't have the mindset for something like that. Heck, even Ark's the highest-leveled guy I know, and he's only halfway there.

Well, I should be off. Time's a-wasting.

I picked up my handy shortsword, slightly tarnished from weeks of killing snails, and inserted it into the sheath at my belt. Ark glanced up from a book he was reading. "Leaving, Zer?"

"Yeah, Ark." I nodded. "I'm gonna be an archer!"

Ark laughed. "Don't strain yourself, Zer." He sighed. "Go get 'em, bro."

Heh, I love my big brother. Even if he is a warrior, he's still really nice. I walked past the townspeople, all of them greeting me. I noticed a few archers and hunters skittering about. God, they look so cool. No rangers at the moment, though, but from what I heard, most of the Rangers are up in Ossyria training. I'm scared of Ossyria, even though I won't admit it. I heard there are Yetis and Zombies that could tear people to shreds in seconds, and I'm not going to go there anytime soon.

I dashed past the gates of Mushroom Park, the fresh scent of flowers in the air. Quickly I ran and ran, towards the big tree where the founder of our town, Athena Pierce, lives.

Athena Pierce is really something. Not only is she a bowmaster, one of the legendary few who have mastered the fourth job (it boggles my head just thinking about it) but she also founded this town from wasteland and monsters almost single-handedly. She's the master and teacher of all the archers in the world. Anyone who wants to be an archer talks to her. I heard she's an elf and that she once killed a dozen Crimson Balrogs with one arrow, but she tends to take nice walks and instruct kids more than going out and being a hero.

As I walked through the door, the warm scent of fresh flowers hit me, even more so than in the park. Athena's house was beautiful, built into the tree, flowers growing right off the wall. I wish I could've lived in a tree. I admired the house for a bit before going up to Athena's desk.

She finished writing something on a piece of paper and then looked at me. "Well met. Who are you?"

"I-" I nearly choked with amazement as I eyed the woman who had reportedly slain twelve of the most powerful monsters in Victoria Island with one blow. I don't know how I managed it, but finally I stuttered, "I'm Z-Zeraion Phoenix. I-I want t-to be an archer."

"I see." She got up from her desk. "Come over here for a bit."

I walked over, nearly tripping over my feet. She took my hands in hers and stroked my palm with her fingers, murmuring things like "Ah" and "I see" the whole while. Finally, she eyed me directly.

"You really want to be an archer?" she asked.

"Y-Yeah."

"It's not an easy path. You will have to train hard and long if you wish to attain your goal."

"I-I know." I stammered. I found a little courage and then said, "But I want to be one of the best bowmen in Bera. I might even be a ranger someday, if I work hard. Please, Athena, I really want your blessing."

A smile barely graced her lips. "Very well, Zeraion." she said. "At least you have the mindset. Please show me your palm."

I held out my hand, and she took it in hers. She spoke a few words of a language I couldn't understand, and then she gripped my hand hard. There was a flash of bright golden light, and I couldn't see for a bit, but I finally blinked and saw Athena looking approvingly at me. There was a strange, ornate glowing mark on my palm.

"Congratulations, Phoenix." She took a small book from a shelf behind her and handed it to me. "You have now chosen the path of the archer. Train hard, and you shall be rewarded with the fastest of speed, the sharpest of senses, and the greatest of powers."

I left the tree quickly, murmuring a hurried "thank you" as I ran out. I distinctly heard her say, "He'll be a great one someday." as I left.

-----

I immediately ran off to the Henesys weapon and armor store, and using some of the money Ark gave me, bought a War Bow, some green archer clothes, and a quiver full of arrows. I put it on and stared at myself in the mirror for a bit, and I had to admit, I definitely seemed a lot more dashing than I did a long time ago.

As I paid for my items, the man behind the counter said, "You just become an archer?"

I nodded in assent. He said, "Well congrats. But you know, it's gonna be tough."

"I know." I said, hitching the quiver of arrows over my shoulder. "I'll train hard, though."

"Good luck, kid." he murmured, cracking his knuckles on his desk before turning away. I sped out of the store, ready to rain justice on a bunch of monsters.

First, I picked up an arrow and set it to my bowstring. How does this work? You hold the arrow, pull the string back, and release…

My first arrow flopped lazily out of the bow and landed a foot away from me on the ground. Angrily, I muttered something and picked it up, and then tried again. And again. And again.

Finally, I was spared further embarrassment by a black-haired hunter nearby, who told me, "Easy, kid. You're holding the bow backwards. You need the string towards you."

"Oh, er thanks." I muttered, red-faced.

"Hey, it's no problem." he said. "I had a lot of problems with my first bow, too. Here, try this." He untied the string from my bow and restrung it, then plucked the string with his finger. "That should hold." he smiled, tapping the wood with his knuckles. "Now try it."

I took the bow and another arrow and set the arrow to the guide notches in the bow, then pulled hard, the arrow taut against the string. Finally, I released.

It was an exhilarating sensation that I'll never forget. My arrow flew through the air with a whizz as it left my hand and planted itself about twenty feet away from me. It was a poor shot, but better than my first few. I smiled and turned towards the hunter.

"Thanks for your help." I said. He smiled in return. "No problem, kid." He left, no doubt to train on something that I probably couldn't even hit.

-----

_One Year Later_

I drew two arrows from the pouch on my back and twirled them in my hand for a split second before raising them to my bow and firing. "Double Shot!" I roared.

The arrows struck the ribbon pig between the eyes as it charged at me. It let out a squeal as it slumped to the ground. Smiling, I untied the ribbon from around its neck and slipped it into the pack on my back. Those ribbons were prized by the women of Henesys and could sell for a decent price.

I was twelve years old now, a year older from when I'd first become an archer. Slowly, but surely, I'd gone from holding my War Bow backwards to being able to fire arrows swiftly without the string snapping in my face, at least not too often.

I hopped on a rope nearby and clung to it while I whizzed down a red potion, then jumped down again. Closing my eyes as the pigs ran around me, I selected my target. I felt the magic suffuse me as I brought the arrow to my newly bought orange Hunter's Bow.

"Arrow Blow!"

The arrow burst through the air and landed with a bang, knocking out a pig nearby. I smiled with satisfaction. I never tired of using that move. Unsheathing the handy sword that I always kept at my belt, I sliced off the skin. I could dry it for leather later.

Oh yes. Life was good. I never had any cares except to train my skills with the bow on those porcine targets.

That is, until, I was interrupted by the sound of…

"Thunderbolt!"

Blue-white bolts of lightning shot from the sky and struck down the pigs faster than I could draw an arrow. Furiously, I spun around to see a wizard, smirking at me.

"Too slow, kid." he snickered before blasting away at another group of pigs. I ignored him and drew another couple of arrows, but before I could strike the wizard beat me to the punch, yelling "Thunderbolt!" again and blasting down all the pigs at once.

"Oh, damn." I muttered. If I stayed here, I knew I would not get much training out of it. I could only either leave or pray that a magic-resistant Iron Hog would appear and charge down the magic-user.

Out of fury I fired a few more arrows, but they all struck thin air as Thunderbolt hit its mark over and over again.

"Hey, you!" I heard a voice above me, and both I and the wizard twisted our heads to look.

It was a hunter. Level 50, I would have to guess, from the plush cap on his head, his blue-lined gown, and his blue Olympus bow. I'd heard stories about that bow, but never seen it in person. Then I realized who it was, from the raven hair and sharp, dark eyes. It was the hunter that had first showed me how to use a bow.

"Stop harassing the kid," he snapped, pointing his bow at the wizard, "or you'll seriously regret it."

"Make me." the wizard snapped, blasting a few more pigs.

I could see a vein in the hunter's forehead bulge. "You asked for it, you little shitbag."

He then drew an arrow out of his quiver and set it to his Olympus. Then, he closed his eyes.

In disbelief, I stared at this hunter as the wizard continued to blast the pigs. What on earth was he thinking if he thought that taking a nap in the middle of the place would help-

"Arrow Bomb."

It was a cool, calm, collected voice, and I will never forget it. It is the voice of someone who knows he is going to win before he even makes a move. The arrow, brighter than I could see, flashed flame-orange in the sunlight before it exploded with a large bang, taking out a large group of pigs while the wizard's lightning struck the ground.

The wizard spun around, aiming for another group of pigs, but before he could even wave his staff I heard "Arrow Bomb" again, from the hunter, eyes still closed. This time, there was a touch of cruelty in the voice, as though the hunter was deliberately mocking the helpless magician. Again, and again, the wizard struck, to no avail. The hunter was simply too fast.

He opened his eyes and pointed his bow again at the wizard. "Now," he said, venom dripping from his voice. "What did I say?"

The wizard needed no urging and fled, as I stared with amazement at this stranger who had come to my rescue.

"Holy…" I drew a deep breath. "That was amazing!"

"No need to thank me." He waved a hand aside. "Just doing my job."

"Yeh." I murmured. "What level are you?"

"Fifty-six."

"That's high." I drew a deep breath, yet again.

"Yeah." He seemed to stare into the distance. "It's my dream to become the best archer in the world." He ground a fist into his palm. "And I won't let any stupid magicians stop me." There was a kind of fire in his eyes as he said that, and I stepped back from him a little.

"W-what's your name?" I asked, slightly trembling.

"Gault Isentryx. I'm sixteen." His raven-black hair fluttered slightly in the wind. "You're?"

"Zeraion Phoenix." I stammered.

"Nice to meet you." He stared off into the distance a bit more before turning his attention back to me. "What level are you?"

"T-Twenty-four."

"Ah." He nodded. "Well, good luck training."

"Yeah."

"Listen." He seized ahold my wrists and gripped them really hard. It hurt a little. "There's an imbalance of power in the world right now. The warriors, magicians, and thieves get all the strength, and they lord it over us. I won't accept that. I've had to endure it for years. I still endure it today."

His eyes were burning fiercely and I wanted to turn away from him, but at the same time, I couldn't. There was a clear, vicious passion inside of him. "I'm going to gather up all the bowmen in Bera, someday. And when we're all assembled, we'll show them all that we won't take it anymore. There'll be a revolt. A revolt of the archers." His eyes blazed again, and I almost could feel the heat from them against my skin. Finally, he let go of my wrists, leaving deep red marks where his callused hands had been.

"When you reach level fifty..." He said in a low, dark voice. "Find me. Find your destiny, Zeraion Phoenix."

Naturally, it is impossible to put into words what I was feeling at the time. I turned to ask him some question, but he was gone, scattered to the wind. The only fragments of his prescence were the burnt shafts of his arrows nearby, stuck into the ground.

I stared at them. His power…his passion…his words, they all resonated inside me.

_When you reach level 50, find me. Find your destiny, Zeraion Phoenix._

-----

I did not return to the town of Henesys until I was level 30. I lived near Lith Harbor for a while, training on the pigs, then I moved to the beautiful town of Ellinia and rented a small hut in a tree, on Ark's advice, who had told me to go there and train on the green and horned mushrooms that populated the tree dungeons. I'd always wanted to live in a tree ever since I'd seen Athena's house, but my rented home smelled musty and of fungus, not clean and flowery. Still, I was determined to make ends meet, so to speak.

Finally, two years after I'd set off on my journey to become an archer, I was a hunter, at last. The fabled second class. In more than one way, I'd become of age. Firstly, I was now thirteen years old, but more importantly, I'd reached my thirtieth level, which meant I was old enough to become a hunter. From what Ark had said, the fighter's job test was, as he bluntly put it, "an ass." Hopefully, my test would be easier, but I doubted so.

When I'd hit level 30 after killing my last mushroom, I'd ecstatically sent a letter to Ark. In response, he sent a reply. He was glad that all was well; he congratulated me on my thirteenth birthday, and he told me that Ascion was well and grown, and was indeed training and studying hard to become a cleric. He also added that he'd sent me a birthday present that would hopefully arrive soon.

Indeed, as soon as I set down the letter, I was greeted by a voice calling my name. I went to the door of my small room and opened it. A fairy was waiting for me.

"Zeraion Phoenix?" she asked, holding a long package.

"Yes, that's me." I nodded. "What can I help you with?"

"This package came for you, from your brother. He says happy birthday." The fairy giggled and left, leaving the package at my feet. I picked it up and weighed it. It felt slightly weighty, but not much heavier than my Battle Bow. I shook it and was almost certain of what it was, my heart thumping, but I was too afraid to open it, my hopes too high. Finally, I ripped open the paper and beheld my gift in all its glory.

It was a Ryden. Gold-plated, with emeralds set in the guide notches, its handle finely covered with leather. I felt its sturdy metal frame and compared it to my Battle Bow. Certainly, it was superior. There was even a case accompanying it, and I opened it to find several bow-strings, made out of something I couldn't place. I strung the bow and twanged it. The resonating note rung through the room and I felt my heart skip a beat. It was top-quality, probably scrolled. But where could Ark find the money to-

The note attached to the package had drifted to the floor and I slit it open. It was a small note from my brother.

_Hey, Zer._

_I found this one day while taking a stroll through Henesys. A wandering thief had it, and I made an offer. It wasn't a pleasant process, the haggling, but I did eventually trade off my Sabretooth for it. Don't worry, I can make do with my Blue Counter. It's been scrolled with the best of scrolls, and it's got a ton of attack points to its name. There's even a few drake-gut bowstrings to go with it. Don't worry about the price. Ascion says hi._

_From your big brother,_

_Ark_

I felt my heart twinge lightly as I wondered just how much could this have cost. I didn't even want to know, but I felt slow tears of gratitude come to my eyes. I would have to repay him someday.

I slid the shining Ryden into my quiver and pawned my old bow off at the shop, buying a few potions with the proceeds, as I would probably need them. Then, I went off to the taxi station and paid some money for a ride to Henesys, post-haste.

When we arrived, I bid the driver good-bye and dashed through Mushroom Park, barely stopping to smell the flowers like before, until I reached Athena Pierce's familiar tree-house. Athena herself was once again sitting at the desk, writing out something on a piece of paper, no doubt a commendation for some ranger or sniper in Ossyria. I coughed and she looked up.

"Well met, Zeraion." she murmured. "What wind blows you here today?"

"I just passed my thirtieth level, Athena," I murmured, bowing low. "I seek further guidance in the path of the bowman."

Athena laughed, her voice tinkling in my ears. "Since when have you showed me this much respect, student? Last time I remember, you were too timid to even say my name."

I felt my cheeks glow red. "Well, er, there's a first time for everything."

"You're not the quivering boy I saw two years ere." she murmured, making me blush a bit more. "I take it you've acquainted yourself with the bow and wish to become a hunter?"

"Of course." I responded. "I find bending a bowstring more satisfying than pulling a hair-trigger on a crossbow."

"So be it." She nodded, then took up a quill and scratched something on a piece of paper. "I have a friend who would be more than happy to guide you through the next part of your journey. She is located on the Henesys route to the dungeon. It won't be an easy test, but…" She paused. "I have faith in you."

"You're just saying that." I murmured, scraping the ground with my foot. Athena eyed me amusedly.

"No, Phoenix, I'm not just saying that." she said gently, laying her hand on my arm. "You show more talent and determination than almost anyone I've ever met. And I really mean that." Her lips curled up in that same faint smile I'd seen two years ago. "You will be a great ranger someday."

"Ranger…" I murmured, curling my tongue around the sacred word. I didn't know what to say to Athena anymore, but she merely saved me the trouble and waved me out, note in hand.

-----

I ran out of Henesys faster than a bullet, as I went up the dungeon path. I'd always supposed that path to be full of Crimson Balrogs when I was a child, but it seemed no more than a simple, grassy path with nothing too challenging, except for Iron Hogs that I decided to save for another time. In fact, the most challenging obstacle I faced were not the monsters, but the foliage. I got my arms so scratched by the thistles and thorns that I almost thought that fighting through all this was half the test.

After some rope-climbing through a briar bush, I cursed and plucked a thorn out of my sore, throbbing hand before laying eyes on a short, pink-haired woman wearing glasses and holding a blue, ornate bow. I supposed her to be Athena's friend who would supervise me through the rest of this test.

"Ah, Zeraion." She nodded at me. "Athena sent word of your arrival. I take it you are ready for the examination? If not, I'll wait here until you are."

"No, I'm fine." I said. She raised her eyebrows at my scratched arms and legs, but said nothing. Finally, she gestured. "The test area is near here," she murmured, pushing aside a bush. I could see something like a rabbit hole behind it.

"It looks dangerous." I shuddered. In response, the instructor tossed her head angrily at me. "You expect to be a hunter, and you're afraid of a little hole?" She slid down into the earth, and I had no choice but to follow.

She led me through the caverns, until we reached a small, isolated cave. Evil Eyes and Zombie Mushrooms skittered through the stone halls. I shuddered again. It smelled really musky and damp down here, and it was also dark. She stood on the edge of a platform, away from me.

"See those monsters?" She pointed. I cast a stare at them. They were certainly ferocious-looking and a far cry from the mushrooms I'd trained on in Ellinia, but something told me, inside, that I could handle them. I clutched Ark's Ryden and reassured myself.

"Those monsters have been controlled by an evil that resides at the center of Victoria Island. Their hearts have melted away and replaced with shards of darkness, called Dark Marbles. You are to collect thirty of them, and then Athena will recognize you as a hunter. I'll be waiting up here when you have them all."

I tried to snipe safely from my current platform, but to no avail; my arrows disappeared into darkness and I couldn't tell if I had hit anything. I realized I would have to go deeper into the darkness.

I felt something crunch under my feet as I walked. It was a bone. Slightly sickened, I rushed forward, eager to get myself out of this place as soon as humanly possible. I drew two arrows from my quiver and closed my eyes. The dark didn't matter to me anymore; I saw with my hands and my ears, exactly where my targets were. I drew back the new bowstring and felt the bow bend slightly in my hands. I released.

"Double Shot!"

The power of my attack was so strong that the arrows flew out with amazing force and struck down a Zombie Mushroom instantly. Surprised, I didn't know how I could have done something like that. Leave it to Ark and his 57 attack Ryden. My courage hardened, I quickly finished off an Evil Eye in quick succession and drew the sword from my belt. Quickly, I slashed it open (I tried to ignore its insides, even though I'd gutted monsters before) and drew the dark crystal from its inside. Feeling slightly sick by the smell, I threw the thing into my pack and continued onwards.

I eventually lost count of how many marbles I'd collected, but judging from the weight on my back it had to be a lot. I staggered back to the pink-haired instructor, clutching the rope with difficulty (as the marbles weighed me down.) Finally, with a heave, I pulled myself up. I almost wanted to throw up, from skinning all the monsters, but I managed to keep my composure and threw the pack at her feet.

"Done?" she asked.

"I think so."

She began to sort through the pack with amazing speed, drawing out the marbles and counting them faster than I could see. Finally, she drew out the last one and murmured, "Fifty-four, exactly." She nodded. "Very well, Phoenix. You've done well." She led me to the exit of the cave, and I took a deep breath of relief as I inhaled the fresh Henesys air.

-----

I wanted to run to Athena's house, but I didn't dare. The contents of my stomach were already unsettled enough and losing my early meal over the floor of the leader of the bowmen's house was not going to help the case of my promotion, so I walked very slowly, gingerly clutching onto anything I could for support.

I wobbled over and presented my medal from the instructor to Athena. She glanced at it, then slid it into a drawer in her desk. "Congratulations, Phoenix. This signifies your advancement to a Hunter." She took another book from the shelf behind her. "I think I should go over the skills with you, since they may be a bit difficult to understand on your own."

"O-okay." I stammered, more out of my nauseousness than my nervousness.

"Let's see." She flipped through the pages with her long fingers until she found the one she was looking for. "Ah. Well, first, there's Bow Mastery. It's a series of little techniques that you can use to help in battle. It's more really about looking sharper and pulling harder, but it helps." She stared intently at me.

"Yeah."

"Then, we have Bow Booster. It allows you to focus the mana inside your body and redirect it to your hands and arms. I could go into all the technical details, but it basically means you'll be able to shoot faster. You know how Thieves get Haste? Well, this is almost the same thing, except it's for your arms."

"After that, we have Soul Arrow, which is definitely something you need. It allows you to focus mana and create projectiles out of the energy around you. It takes a little getting used to, but all you need to do is pull back on the bowstring, focus yourself, and release. It's very helpful in tight situations, so you won't have to carry a quiver of arrows everywhere you go."

"Um, yeah."

"And there's also a technique we call Power Knock-Back. It allows you to temporarily amplify your strength and thus allows you to use your bow more effectively as a melee weapon. However, I wouldn't count on it as a killing tool, as it saps your strength really fast, since you're not a warrior."

She paused to eye me, as I think I was kind of green at the time, and then continued. "And lastly, we have my personal favorite, Arrow Bomb. I think you'll like this skill."

No doubt, as I vividly remember a certain raven-haired hunter using it a year ago.

"You focus the mana around you into your arrow, and then you fire it. If done correctly, the arrow will explode, and you'll be able to take out a large group of enemies at a time. Strongly recommended when you're being mobbed by a crowd."

I nodded. "Thanks." Then I realized something, her arm deliberately covering up some of the page. "What's that?"

"Oh, this?" she muttered. "It's nothing."

"No, really." I said, a bit louder, even though I felt sick to my stomach. "Show me. I want to know what that is."

She gazed at me, a penetrating and questioning stare, before turning her attention back to the book. Slowly, she moved her arm off the book.

"Final Attack." I read the words on the page, slowly.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Isn't that for warriors?"

"Yes, it was." Her eyes stared sadly at me. "We discovered that whenever mana was used in an attack, a curious effect took place. People felt a rush from performing an attack that used mana. At first, it was dismissed as a side effect, but the leader of the warriors did some research on it. He discovered that the effect, known as "mana burn," was the result of leftover mana gathered from the initial attack. It quickly dissipated, but it left a curious sensation."

She continued. "The warriors were interested by this, and experimented all they could with mana burn. It was a perilous process and several died…" She took a deep breath. "But in the end, the warriors discovered that this mana burn could be controlled, and harnessed after using the mana. In fact, the energy from this effect could be up to ten times more the energy of the previous attack."

"Ah." I nodded, partly understanding. She continued.

"I hope you see my point, Zeraion. You see, if too much mana burn is accumulated, it can destroy the body. The warriors knew this, but at the same time they were determined to control it. And finally, they did. They perfected the technique and published it in all the warrior manuals. It was introduced to the world as Final Attack. Suddenly, warriors dominated the world of Bera. None of our attacks could fare against them; they had the secret of mana burn. And they would keep it from us at any cost."

"That is, until I performed my own research." She stared sadly at me. "I knew that we bowmen, even with our powers, could not hope to match that of the warriors. I knew that the secret to our power would be mana burn. So I…I experimented with the effect. And I couldn't risk using others, like the warriors did. So I performed the experiments myself."

She drew back her sleeves, and I gasped, almost losing it right then and there. Her arms, which should have been beautiful and strong, were horribly disfigured, crisscrossed with scars and burns.

A tear dripped from her eye and she shook her sleeves over her arms again. "The price I paid was horrible. I nearly lost the use of my arms. And to a bowman, that would have been torture. But I managed to perfect the technique, like the warriors, and it was published in the bowmen's texts as well."

"I understand." I said quietly. "But if it was mastered, then why doesn't anyone use it?"

"Because," Athena said, her voice still in that quiet, terrible whisper, "I could master the technique myself, but I couldn't teach it to everyone who wanted to. We bowmen didn't have the strength or stamina to withstand the pressures of the mana burn. As I had feared…many lost their lives perfecting the technique. I couldn't allow this slaughter to destroy us, so I removed all mention of the technique from our books. This copy that I have is the only mention of it. I eventually developed new techniques to replace the power of Final Attack, powers that the rangers and snipers now wield." She sat back in her chair. "So, now you know my story."

"But…" I stammered. "Surely at least some must have able to been withstand the mana burn and master Final Attack, wouldn't they?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Those precious few, they survived and they mastered the technique. They became dominated by it, and they ignored the rules of our limits. They went above and beyond, creating attacks way beyond the grasp of even rangers and snipers. Dragon Pulse is one. Hurricane is another. However, Final Attack corrupted their minds, and those that remain have mostly sealed themselves away from the world, knowing their power and the destruction they could wreak with it."

She shed another tear, and she drew back her sleeve a little bit, revealing part of her scarred, disfigured arm.

"They are the bowmasters and crossbowmasters, Phoenix."

"N-no way." I shuddered. "So Final Attack is the key to the legendary fourth job?"

"Yes, Zeraion." She used my first name out of kindness and pity. "Without the secret of mana burn, you cannot hope to achieve the powers of the bowmasters. I did, but I paid the price. I don't want you to go through that kind of torture. Please, listen to me."

I did listen to her. Her words have always stayed in my heart since, but I also couldn't help remembering what else she'd said.

_Without the secret of mana burn, you cannot hope to achieve the powers of the bowmasters._

I made up my mind, right then and there. No matter the price, I would master mana burn. I would master Final Attack, and become a bowmaster. I had made a promise to myself that I would become the best bowman in the world.

"Athena." I said, forgetting my manners and calling her by her first name. "I have listened to you. Every one of your words is in my heart. But I have made up my mind. I can't live with myself if I let Final Attack and the secret of mana burn pass me by, and I don't want to look back at the years I could have worked. I'm not afraid of the possible consequences. Please, give me the book, and I promise you I will work harder than any other student you've ever had. I won't let myself be weak and succumb like everyone else."

I held her still hand. "I promise I will master Final Attack."

She looked up at me, and I could see she'd been crying. "Zeraion, I am not trying to overstate the gravity of this. I know you are a brilliant, studious and determined archer and I always predicted you would be a great ranger someday, but I don't want to lose you just because of a silly technique."

"I know." I squeezed her hand lightly. "I understand, Master. That is why I am asking you for the secret. I trust myself and I trust your judgment."

She stared up at me again. "You don't act like a thirteen-year old." she murmured. "All the hunters I've seen ask me for Arrow Bomb, trying to create the biggest and best explosions, but no one has ever noticed, let alone pressed me for the secret of Final Attack." She managed her first smile in quite a while. "You definitely have determination. Like…him."

"Like who?"

She caught herself. "It's not important," she muttered. For a while, she appeared in a state of deep thought. Finally, she made up her mind and handed me the book.

"Please, Phoenix, be careful." she admonished, running her scarred fingers along my flawless arms, as if she knew they would be wounded soon enough. For that moment, I was grateful for her friendship, her trust, and her affection for me. I have always been grateful for it since.

I took the book. "Thank you, Master."

She merely nodded. "Yes, Phoenix." She turned away from me, and I didn't want to intrude upon her any longer.

I knew I had to do two things. I had to master Final Attack, no matter what the cost, and I knew I had to find Gault Isentryx someday.

-----

With all this pressing upon me, I felt as though I had a very heavy burden upon my back. I did nothing except train relentlessly with mana burn, save for one point in Arrow Bomb. However, I knew that Arrow Bomb could do nothing for me when I became a bowmaster.

Indeed, as I went off to a secluded spot in Ellinia forest, I knew the responsibility that lay before me. True enough, I had accepted the challenge, but I hadn't underestimated Athena's words either. I had seen her tears and I had seen her scars. I knew that this was not something to be taken lightly.

First, I practiced Arrow Blow. I knew it to be a reasonably powerful skill, yet not very taxing. I closed my eyes, let my magic suffuse me, and released the arrow, the blade of blue flashing through the air and killing a wandering Stump. However, the monster was not my target. Rather, I was searching for that feeling of the aftermath of my magic.

I felt it. It was like a small gust of wind, as gone as quickly as it had came. I became very excited, for I knew what it was. Now, how could I harness it into an attack?

I performed Arrow Blow again, with the same result, but I couldn't seem to grip the mana burn. It kept slipping away from me, just when I needed it most. I began to grow very tired, having to replenish myself with bitter-tasting bottles of blue fluid from the Henesys potion store.

On my sixteenth try, something happened. I performed Arrow Blow again, and this time, I concentrated fiercely.

_I need this power. Please, grant it to me!_

There was a flash of light and I released the bowstring, but at the same time, I felt a line of pain shoot through my arm, and I screamed, dropping my Ryden. But even as I fell, my eyes saw the shining arrow that I had fired. It shone with a beautiful golden light and flew through the air, faster and stronger than any arrow I had fired before, and it struck a snail head-on.

The snail gave a cry of pain as the ground around it exploded forcefully, its slimy body suddenly everywhere. I felt sick, but at the same time I felt a kind of grim triumph. So this was Final Attack. It was the equivalent of throwing a grenade, and I had only begun to use it. Who knew what it could have been like when it was mastered?

Suddenly, it clicked into place. What they said about Athena slaying a dozen Balrogs with one arrow had been true.

She had been using Final Attack, mastered by years of pain and torture.

I turned my attention to my arm. There was something like a scorch mark that ran up the length of my wrist, but the scarred flesh was a ghostly white, not pink like a regular burn. I felt even more sick, but I knew this was the price that Athena had paid, and it was the price I would have to pay for my pursuit of power.

I stood up, brushed the dirt off of my armor, and walked into the setting sun towards my home.


	2. Virtue is a Grace

**Chapter 2**

I sat at my table, quietly. I had a kettle of water bubbling on the stove; I would make some tea later. At the moment, I was tending to the burn on my arm. One of the fairies had given me a burn salve, and although it stung, I knew that at least that meant it was working. I smeared some more of the foul-smelling green stuff over my burn and finally put the salve away. However, my mind was not on my arm, but rather pondering my teacher's words.

So Athena had spoken the truth. I had known she had told me the truth the whole time, but I really hadn't believed it, not fully, until I felt the sharp blade of pain tear through my arm. I remembered seeing her scarred, disfigured arms, and I gave an involuntary shudder. I stared at my own arms. I didn't want them to be like that…

But I had to master Final Attack! Knowing this, I angrily swore and pounded the table. Once again, Athena's words had been cruelly true. There was no mercy from the unstable magic that I sought to control; this was simply the only way that I could achieve my goal of becoming a bowmaster.

The kettle began to whistle noisily, steam shooting out the spout. I quickly took it off the fire, then steeped a few witch-grass leaves in the hot water. The resulting tea tasted nasty, but it sped up the healing of my wounds. I sighed and rubbed my sore arm. The scorch mark was gone, leaving only the faintest trace of pale where it had been. Yet, as I stared at my arm, I knew this would not be the last scar I would have to endure over my journey.

I sipped a bit more of the tea, then finally set the cup down. My mind was full of conflicting thoughts, and following Athena's example, I decided to take a walk to clear my head. So I slipped Ark's Ryden into the handy quiver on my back and left the house.

Personally, Ellinia is one of the most beautiful places in Bera. The emerald-colored trees that blanketed the massive city lended a gentle, down-to-earth feeling to the place, and the sensation of magic hung in the air as magicians practiced their artes in the shade of the great behemoths was exhilarating. It was definitely one of the best locations for a stroll.

I balanced myself deftly on the narrow branches of Ellinia's trees that served as makeshift paths for the residents. People without much dexterity, like passing warriors, always fell off, but there was no danger in falling, as a magical ward had been erected by the magicians on the ground long ago. Indeed, some people delighted jumping from the branches on purpose just to hit that soft cushion of magic.

A group of excited kids were lined up even as I walked, to take turns jumping through the air. I had to smile lightly as I watched them at play. Even though I could be no more than three years older than them, I remembered Athena's words.

_You don't act like a thirteen-year old._

_Indeed, _I thought, as I rubbed my sore right arm one more time. Then, I saw one of the kids from the group run over to me. "Heya, Zer!" he squealed happily, grabbing my leg.

I was surprised, to say the least. "Who the hell are-" but then I recognized that familiar mop of dark brown, disheveled hair.

"Ascion?" I said in surprise as I stared into my younger brother's eyes. "What are you doing here?" I tickled his shoulder playfully. "Shouldn't you be in Henesys with Ark?"

"Well, big bro, Ark sent me to live with you!" he squealed, squeezing my leg tighter.

"What?!" I almost screamed, but restrained myself from doing so. _What the- Why on earth would Ark send Ascion to me? He loves him, and he wouldn't plop the responsibility of taking care of a child on a thirteen-year old, unless…_

My heart twinged. Had something happened to Ark? I seriously did not want to believe what I was telling myself…but at the same time, I couldn't help it.

I sighed; so be it. How exactly I could take care of my younger brother and fulfill my dream, I did not know. I only hoped that Ascion, like I, would mature quickly and be able to take care of himself soon enough.

"Come on, Ascion." I muttered. "Let's get you home."

I led my brother to my makeshift home in the trees. He poked the fungus-crusted walls excitedly, as though he'd found a gold mine. "Wow! Rare achneaus fungus!"

"What?" I stared at him.

"Achneaus fungus." he stated calmly. "I learned about it from my magic book." He fished a book out from his jacket pocket, similar to my bowman's manual, but a lot thicker. "Very rare and prized by the fairies. They use it to make healing unguents. It has also a very large amount of mana value and can be used as a component in various-"

"Okay, okay!" I cut him off with a wave of my hand, laughing. "Go talk about your achy-whatever somewhere-" Suddenly I realized something.

"You're a magician?" I paused, staring at him in mid-sentence.

"Yep!" Ascion giggled and drew out a wooden wand from his jacket. "I got my blessing from Master Grendel today! I'm gonna be a cleric soon!" He waved his wand, with that typical adorableness that all ten-year olds have.

A bolt of blue energy shot out from his wand and I dived to the floor, narrowly avoiding it as it burned a small hole in the tree wall.

"Whoops, sorry, bro." he muttered sheepishly, pocketing his wand.

"Never mind." I pulled myself up again. "Just make sure you don't ignite that thing and lose your…" I bit my tongue before I enriched his vocabulary with a word he didn't need to know. "I'll get some supper. Take care of yourself."

I left the house and went out hunting. Within minutes, I had collected a large pack full of snails. Perfect for escargot stew, Ascion's favorite food. I returned home soon afterward and stewed the horrible-smelling invertebrates. My first culinary exploit didn't turn out quite as well as I'd hoped, but then again, I didn't have Ark's skill with the kitchen by a long way. Still, I hoped it was edible.

Glowing, I presented my brother with a large bowlful of the soup, but he shook his head and pushed it away.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"I used to." he said quietly, scraping the wood of the table with his fingernails. "But I don't want it anymore."

"What?!" I could feel a vein in my forehead bulge as I stared at a small blemish I had on my arm from boiling water. "You used to like that stuff! What happened to you?"

Ascion took out his book. "Master Grendel said that we should not cause unneccessary suffering for pleasure. We should live off the plants, so to speak."

I stared at the soup, then I stared at him, then back at the soup. I was ravenously hungry a moment ago, but now I felt the ache in my stomach dwindle away to nothing.

I poured the soup down the drain in the kitchen and bought two salads from the Ellinia potion shop. I'd never really enjoyed eating so-called "rabbit food" (as Ark had dryly called it once) but as my teeth went through the fresh vegetables with a crunch, I had to admit there was a kind of satisfying richness in the food.

Funny how ten-year olds can sometimes be blazingly intelligent at times.

-----

The silver moon was high over the town of Henesys, occasionally obscured by a small, dark cloud every so often.

Athena eyed it with mistrust as she was out on her walk. Something didn't rest well with her, again. There was a feeling of unease that rested in her veins, and it was the same feeling she'd had a few years ago.

She thought of Zeraion Phoenix. What on Bera could he be doing out there, a simple-minded thirteen-year old boy trying to control forces beyond his grasp? She shuddered and she thought of herself, when she'd tried to do the same things, it seemed, eons ago. She'd remembered the splitting pain, the blood from her wrists on the ground…

_No, I can't think like that. _She shook her head, her long copper-colored hair flowing behind her. _He's not simple-minded, by any means. He has determination. He has everything I want our archers to be. _She sighed, remembering his words.

_Athena, I have listened to you. Every one of your words is in my heart. But I have made up my mind. I can't live with myself if I let Final Attack and the secret of mana burn pass me by, and I don't want to look back at the years I could have worked. I'm not afraid of the possible consequences. Please, give me the book, and I promise you I will work harder than any other student you've ever had. I won't let myself be weak and succumb like everyone else. I promise you I will master Final Attack._

She pulled back her right sleeve, gingerly, and felt the hard calluses and scars on her arms. It pained her to feel them, but she knew that they would be transferred to her student's arms soon enough, and that hurt her even more.

_He will survive,_ she reassured herself, and then continued walking.

"Athena." A figure stepped out of the shadows, behind one of the fountainheads, bowing low to Athena. The moonlight illuminated his razor-sharp, raven-black hair and shone an eerie light reflecting off of his gold-colored Hinkel bow.

"Isentryx." she said in a low voice, neither yielding nor advancing to her student. "What brings you forth?"

"I have reached the seventieth level of my training, Athena." Isentryx said, his head still bowed towards Athena's feet. "I now humbly seek your guidance through the third stage of my journey towards becoming the greatest bowman ever."

"I see, so you wish to become a Ranger at last, Gault." Athena touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he rose. He stood slightly taller than her. "How many do your years number?"

"Seventeen."

"So you have come of age, both in a literal and figurative sense."

"So it would seem." Although Gault's dark eyes blended in perfectly with the darkness, there was an eerie glimmer from his pupils. "Have you any blessings or advice for me?"

"My sincerest congratulations to you." Athena responded in kind. "Your training has been the swiftest I have seen in my many years…No one has became a ranger at the young age of ten and seven before."

"There's a first time for everything." Gault said, somewhat dryly. It reminded Athena of another one of her determined students.

"Yes, well, in any case, Gault, your age is not going to get you any allowances." She sighed. "The path of a ranger is fraught with danger, sacrifice, and above all, absolute dedication to the art of archery. You cannot expect to simply lie back and become a bowmaster."

"I have experienced all of those things and more, Athena." Gault said, turning slightly away from his teacher. "I do not ask, nor do I wish for, an allowance in my training regime."

"Good." Her gaze hardened. "As a member of the third class, you must uphold the balance that has existed between our four classes for countless generations."

Surprisingly, Gault responded to this statement with a cruel, sardonic laugh. "Balance? Athena, with all due respect, there has not been a balance in our powers." He threw his arms above his head, and Athena could see a flash of crimson red on his sleeve, illuminated against the cool moonlight.

Before Athena could respond, he continued. "I have met warriors who have cleaved through the hardest of beasts with one stroke. I have met mages who have leveled mountains with a flick of the wrist. I have met rogues who have slaughtered a field of foes in less time than it takes to blink an eye."

He continued darkly. "The three other classes lord their powers over us. To put it simply, we are outnumbered. The cities of Perion, Ellinia, and Kerning have been increasing their territories by the day. They outnumber us at least five to one each. Their reputation and their power grow by day, and what are we? To them, we're just the little ones, the ones who play with our crude bows and sticks, the ones who live in a tiny village that could be run over at any moment!"

Athena's eyes flashed momentarily with anger at his words. "Gault, I assure you that Henesys would be extremely difficult to 'run over', not when we have a team of highly-trained support rangers and snipers experienced and famed the world over, ready to summon at a moment's notice."

"What of it?" he snapped. "Do you see the bowmen running free through the forest, the plains, the wastelands, doing as they please? Our society and race is being extinguished by the others. We can't live like this much longer!"

"If that is your opinion, Gault, then you are very shallow-minded indeed." Athena said, in a dark tone. She drew a scroll out of the pocket of her gown. "I had been intending to give you this since I first met you, but I only wish it could have been under happier circumstances." She handed the scroll, with a steeled face, to her student, who accepted it with a similar glare.

"Farewell, Athena." Gault gave a short bow and then disappeared into the black night.

"Farewell, Isentryx." Athena's eyes narrowed as she stared into the darkness that had once been her student. Her mind recalled the red on his sleeve. It had been blood, and she knew that it was not his.

She continued on her walk, quite resolutely, but her worries had not been relieved in any way, only supplemented with new issues to ponder.

-----

"Double Shot!" I roared, spearing the fire boar as it rushed towards me with two arrows of steel. It gave a cry as its flames extinguished and it slumped on the hard Perion ground. Unsheathing my sword, I hewed off its tusks, slipped them into my knapsack, then continued on my way.

I was on my thirty-fifth level of experience in the world of a bowman, newly clad in a light Legolier outfit. The blue pole-feather hat I wore on my head was certainly fashionable, but it did little to shield me from the blazing sun above the Perion horizon. Sweat continuously dripped into my face and obscured my vision.

Behind me, a flaming boar gave a grunt, and I had a second's warning before it charged at me. I deftly leaped out of the way, and drew an arrow as soon as I landed. "Arrow Blow!"

The shot struck the boar squarely in the head, but before it could strike I gathered my concentration and pulled back the bowstring again. "FINAL ATTACK!"

Out of thin air, a spectral, golden shaft of brilliant energy materialized between my fingers, and as I released the string, it flew with a satisfying _thwing _and struck the boar directly, exploding. The smell of burnt meat greeted me as I cut off the tusks again with my sword. There was still pain, but not as sharp or as swift has before.

"Damn it." I rubbed my throbbing arm for a minute before continuing. It was fortunate that my crimson-colored Legolier shirt came with long sleeves, or I would have had to endure a large host of questions from other people about my arms.

Ever since the inception of Final Attack in my training regimen, I had done nothing except train relentlessly on that one technique, attempting to focus the unstable mana that hung in the air every time I used magic to augment my shots.

As Athena had predicted, I was not immune to the ravages of that mysterious magic that I wished to control. The original scar I'd bore from my first attempt was long gone, but it had been replaced with several more wounds, each more grotesque and painful than the last. I ran my hand across the arm, cursing as I winced from the pain, but it was more my own feelings that hurt more than the actual wounds. I wished I could control Final Attack instantaneously and spare myself from this torture, but as I had promised Athena, there was no looking back, no respite from this continual hell.

Still, after five levels of concentrated work, I was able, to some extent, to control the rush of my attacks. After every shot, I could feel that mana flowing about me, ready to be harnessed. Yet, I still knew I had a long way to go- feeling the mana was one thing, and a big thing, but actually harnessing it was quite a different matter.

"Double Shot!" I roared, swinging around and killing another boar instantly. Another leapt out to take its place, but my eyes were already closed in preparation. My fingers flew instinctively to the bowstring as I gathered the mana, feeling it drift around me. I focused it to the tip of my fingers, I felt the arrow materialize. Now-

"COLD BEAM!"

Surprised, I lost concentration, and the mana burn that I'd harnessed came back with a furious recoil. A blast of tremendous pain shot up my left arm, and I swore loudly and clutched at my singed limb. The torrid smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air.

"Oh, sorry." A sassy, sarcastic voice, probably female, came into my ears. "Was that your kill? I'm really-" Suddenly, a face swam into view. "Holy shit, is that your arm? Oh my god, what the hell happened to you?"

I blinked. A female ice wizard was staring at me from above, her long blonde hair drifting down and grazing my shoulders. Slowly, I managed to sit up, my right hand clutched around my arm. The initial pain was gone, although my heart still pounded from the shock and it felt like my arm was on fire.

"Dammit, I'm not a cleric." she muttered. "You're going to need some help right away, though." She drew something from her pack, and I could see it was a long roll of white bandage. She unwound the fabric around my arm. Although it stung, it was soothingly helpful, in a way.

"Really sorry, by the way." she said as she worked. "Didn't see you there…what the hell were you doing, anyway? I saw your arm explode back there…Really creepy, if you ask me." She shook her head and continued to bandage my arm up.

I tried to speak, but my mouth was glued shut, partly from the dry environment, partly from the pain, but also because the girl standing above me was…very beautiful.

"Whass yeur nayme?"

"Excuse me?" she said, eyeing me curiously.

"What's your name?" I managed to speak, my throat smarting.

"Grace." she said shortly. "Yours?"

"Zeraion Phoenix."

"You have two first names?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, just Phoenix will do for now." She stepped back to admire her handiwork; my arm no longer stung, although it felt tight and stiff. "That should hold, at least until we can get you to a healer." She grabbed my good arm. "Come on, I'll walk you to Perion. You can get some help there."

"Thanks." I murmured, as she pulled me up. "Umm…" I hesistated, not knowing how to phrase what I wanted to say next.

"What?"

"You're…kinda cute."

I heard the noise of flesh hitting flesh, and next thing I knew, I was on the ground, staring up at Grace, laying very painfully on my bad arm, and with a throbbing cheek to boot.

"Call me cute one more time, stupid hunter, and I'll kick your ass." she growled, pulling me up from the ground again.

After we reached Perion, she left me at the potion shop in the care of Sophia, and excused herself. I could see that her cheeks were a shade of red as she took her leave. I didn't know if I would ever see her again, but for the moment, I didn't care, simply content to lie in bed and wait, wondering when I would be able to practice Final Attack some more.

-----

I did not return from training until sunset. It was a long walk to Ellinia, so I paid the taxi fare and soon found myself in front of my doorstep in the familiar tree-house. However, before I could go home, I went round to the Ellinia potion shop and ordered two salads and two bottles of water. Then I went home with my food.

Ascion was waiting for me at the door when I rang the doorbell, since my bad arm was in a sling and I couldn't open the door.

"Zer, what happened to your arm?" he asked anxiously.

"It's nothing. It'll set up overnight." I set the food on the table. "Come on. Let's have a bite to eat. I'm starving."

We ate together, and I felt a bit odd at the time, a thirteen-and-a-half year old sharing a meal with his eleven-year old brother. I felt like there was supposed to be a mother and a father eating with us, or at least some kind of guardian. It made me feel sort of happy, since it showed an independence of spirit, but at the same time it made me feel a bit sullen.

"Hey, Zer." Ascion mumbled, his mouth full of lettuce and tomato. He swallowed and pointed to the nearby table. "Ark sent something. It was addressed to you, though, so I didn't open it."

"Really?" I mused. Darn it, my little brother was acting so much more like the responsible one around here. Stupid magician genes. I painfully got up and picked up the package. Not knowing what else to do, I ripped the seal off with my teeth. A whole load of books fell to the floor, burying my foot underneath.

"Ow! Son of a-" I grit my teeth, remembering that Ascion was in the room, and picked up the note that had fallen along with the books.

_Hey, Zer._

_I'm really sorry for sending Ascion to you on such short notice, but for reasons I can't explain, I won't be able to take care of him for a while. Don't worry about me. Nothing's bad happened._

_I want you to keep up your education while you're out in Ellinia, so I sent some light reading along. Have fun. I know it'll help you some day._

_Love, Ark_

"Light reading, my ass." I muttered in a low voice, eyeing my throbbing foot. I picked up a book.

_Advanced Mathematics, Volume 1_

What the hell? I picked up another book.

_Life Sciences and Mana Studies, Book I_

"What'd Ark send?" Ascion asked, getting up. He eyed the books. "Advanced math? Mana studies? Yippee!" He immediately sorted through the books, plopped himself on the couch and began to read.

Still nursing my throbbing foot, I sighed. "Oh, so all these are for you."

"No, they're for you, too." Ascion giggled. "The fairy said it was for both of us."

"Are you freaking kidding?" I yelled. "I'm a bowman! What am I ever gonna need with-" I picked up a book. "Advanced Trigonometry and Calculus? Come on!"

"Well, Ark said it'd be useful someday." Ascion curled his legs as he continued to read. "And he's always right."

"Give me a break." I sighed, but I picked up one of the tomes and flipped through it.

"Zer, if this stuff bores you, try geometrical constructions." Ascion said calmly.

"What are those?"

"Really fun, that's what. Using only a compass and straightedge, you attempt to construct as many geometrical figures as you can. It's a great mental exercise." He smiled. "After that, you should try some trig, and then after that you might do a little bit of calculus-"

I glared at him.

"Or maybe some logic." he muttered, his gaze shifting back to his book.

I sighed, but I went out and purchased a compass and a straightedge, got a pencil, propped _The Encyclopedia of Geometric Constructions and Applications, Volume 1 _in front of me, and began to work.

-----

Athena Pierce received two letters that day. Both were from two of her students.

She stroked the haft of her golden dragon bow, thoughtfully. It had been specially made for her eons ago, by a master craftsman. Only three Dragon Shinebows existed in the world, and two of them were lost in the depths of Victoria Island, guarded by the monolith Zakum.

Using her practiced hands, she slid her finger across the seal of the first envelope and burned it open. She drew the note out and read it.

_Master,_

_I thought you would like to know that I am eighteen years of age this day. I wish you well. I have reached my nintieth level of training and I ask you for a favor that I hope will not be too presumptuous._

_I would like to request permission from you and the other masters of Victoria to travel to Ossyria Dungeon and wage a battle against the monolith, Zakum. This creature has many treasures in its possession, including several highly-prized weapons that the bowmasters of old once wielded. _

_Do not fear for my safety. I have trained as your student for seven years, and I trust your judgment of my abilities. Even so, I will be going with several experienced companions if it so pleases you._

_With all respect, I await your answer in seven days' time._

_Your student,_

_Gault Isentryx_

She sighed as she read the letter. She didn't fear for Gault's safety or his abilities. What she did fear was the extent of his powers. There was no getting around the fact that he had advanced the farthest in the shortest time, out of any of the students that she'd had. But whether she could chalk it up to his determination or some other factors, she didn't know.

The forced conversation that she'd had with Gault a year ago still lingered faintly in her mind. There had been a kind of force, a kind of…spirit? It was difficult to describe. She also remembered the blood that had not been his.

_Could he…_A jolt of horror shot through her body at once. There could be several different explanations for this phenomenon, all of them worse than the last, but the last, most horrible possibility rested in the back of her mind. She dearly hoped that her prediction would be wrong, but she could not doubt herself at a time like this.

Listlessly, she picked up the second letter and slit it open, then shook its contents upon the desk. She picked up the piece of parchment and read it.

_Master,_

_I thought you would like to know that I am now fourteen years of age, and I wish you well. I am proud to tell you that I have reached my forty-third level of training this day and I beg of you a favor, which I hope you will not think too absurd._

_I have done as I promised you and worked as hard as I could have on the mysteries of mana burn and Final Attack. While I have made some progress in the controlling and usage of this technique, I fear it is still inadequate. Only recently, a few months ago, I was involved in a serious accident and nearly lost the use of my left arm. Truly, I understand the gravity of your words those years ago, which is why I request your help now more than ever._

_If it is not too much of an impediment on your schedule, I humbly ask that you allow me to train with you for an undetermined period of time, at least until I can master the intricacies of Final Attack. I have not strayed from my ultimate goal of becoming a bowmaster._

_With all due respect, I await your answer._

_Your student,_

_Zeraion Phoenix_

So, he was on his fortieth level of training. Good news, indeed, and it was a small ray of light on her shadowed thoughts. She rubbed her arms once more and shuddered to think what pains had befallen her student.

Of course, it would be a tight squeeze to instruct him, but he was the most promising, intelligent and dedicated student she'd ever had, after Isentryx. Besides, not that she doubted his abilities, but he would probably kill himself with proper instruction.

Gault Isentryx and Zeraion Phoenix. Both so different…Gault was the serious, dark one with raven black hair and Phoenix was the sweet but determined one with blonde hair, and Gault was a few years older than Phoenix…but still, Athena noticed, comparing both letters in front of her, they were so similar, at the same time. She could only wonder what would happen if they met.

She rolled up her sleeves, taking a dark glance at her scarred arms, and then took up a quill pen and proceeded to write replies to both of her students.

-----

There was a vicious blizzard in El Nath that night. Snow pelted against the windows of the buildings, barely illuminated by the lights inside. The cold wind and the frozen shards of ice were a deathtrap to anyone who dared to venture out, but Gault Isentryx didn't care.

"Inferno." he whispered, his breath barely visible in the roaring wind. A blazing flame appeared on his palm and he held it aloft, like a lantern in the clouds. The people behind him tramped on, reluctantly following alongside him.

"Isentryx, we can't go on." one of his companions said. He was a ranger as well, about the same level as Gault, although he looked about twenty years older than his party leader. "We'll have to spend the night in Nath. It's suicide to go out, in this kind of weather, no matter what kind of armors or comforts we've got."

"I agree." Another person, a priest, spoke up. "It's hell out here and we won't be able to take on that bloody statue if we don't get a good night's rest."

"I wasn't asking your damned opinion, Gardner." Gault spat at the older ranger. "We've got to press on. The altar can only be activated for a short period of time, and I'll be a Lupin's butt if I have to stop here after all this…"

The older ranger, Rathias Gardner, paused. He had dark amber hair, tied in a ponytail, and a light stubble on his chin. He was the analytical type and would have passed for a mage if not for his muscles. "Isentryx, get some sense into yourself. Even with all of us, it's not going to do any good if we fall asleep right on the hearth of Zakum's altar. We can't risk it."

"We _can _risk it and we will!" Gault roared. He looked as though he would have liked to shoot Gardner in the head for a second. "I've been waiting for this for years." There was a maniacal glint in his eye that could be seen even through the whirling blizzard and wind. "I won't let this stop me, and certainly not by a group of kids!" The irony in this statement hung in the frozen air for a dark minute, as Gault was the youngest one in the group.

"This is bull." the priest spat. He was the only one in the group that didn't have a bow or crossbow hitched over his or her shoulder and he had been picked by Gault only for his healing abilities and nothing more. "I'm not going on for all this…"

The blizzard was warmer than Gault's stare. "I suppose you want to turn back now, don't you, Luc?"

"Yeah, I guess I will. You guys go on to hell if that's what you want." The priest turned on his heel and began to walk away. The rest of the rangers and snipers shrugged and walked on forth. He'd come back. He couldn't survive alone in this blizzard.

However, Gault stayed behind. Unseen by anyone, masked by the wind and the snow, he had drawn his Dark Arund, glittering with evil energy. He raised it to his shoulder, and dashed quietly until he was right behind the priest.

"After you, Luc." Gault whispered in the priest's ear.

It was the last thing he ever heard before Gault thought to himself, "Mortal Blow."

The priest fell, his body hitting the now-crimson snow without a sound, and Gault turned away. He knew the blizzard winds would cover the body in a snowdrift.

"Sorry." He returned to the head of the group. "I had to go check on something."

Gardner's eyes narrowed. "Where's Lucian?"

"I assume he chickened out and went back to town." Gault shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We have plenty of elixirs and unguents anyway. We can go on."

"Are we resting or not?" Gardner demanded, eyeing his younger counterpart with an icy stare.

Gault returned Gardner's cobalt glare with an icy glance of his own. "No, Rathias. Now shut the bloody hell up and keep walking."

For the slightest of seconds, Gardner's sharp hawk-like eyes caught the tiniest drop of crimson on the sleeve of Gault's robe, but the blizzard winds obscured Gault in a sudden storm of white for a second, and he dismissed the matter without a second thought.

-----

Far off, in the village of Henesys, the weather was completely different. The sun was shining brightly and a fair breeze was gently rustling the leaves on the trees.

Zeraion Phoenix took no notice of this. He could have cared less whether he was walking through a heat wave, a monsoon, a tornado, or an earthquake. All that mattered was his objective: to meet his master and continue the second stage of his training in earnest. He'd left his younger brother, Ascion Blade, in the care of the kind Ellinia fairies and magicians while he worked on his dream of becoming a cleric.

A few people who'd recognized him waved a hand in greeting, but he barely noticed them. He pulled the sleeves of his Piette dress shirt further down his wrists, fingered his Maple Soul Searcher briefly, and continued on, through Mushroom Park and towards Athena Pierce's residence.

Athena barely heard the door open and she was shocked to see him slowly ease himself in. He looked so much different…it seemed like he'd aged ten years in thirteen levels. She noticed that his left arm drooped lazily, something that definitely shouldn't have been present in a bowman of his caliber.

"Phoenix." she murmured.

"Yes, Athena." he responded. There was no emotion in his voice.

"I received your letter." she said, not knowing what else to say to him. How could she tell him about the injuries that he'd done himself, that there was a chance that he might never be able to pick up a bow again?

"Yes. I received your reply and I arrived post-haste." He flexed the string of his orange Maple Soul Searcher.

"Is anything pressing you?" she asked, gently.

"Nothing of extreme importance." Phoenix responded.

"Phoenix, listen to me." The sharpness of her voice caught him off guard. "I have not been training my students for countless years to know when they are distressed, and I assure you, that will not help you achieve your goal." Phoenix looked somewhat abashed, and she said in a softer tone, "So tell me, what troubles you?"

He fidgeted with his bow a little before saying, "I met a girl a few months ago."

"Is that it?" Athena laughed. "So you're feeling all downcast because of a girl?"

"Well-" Phoenix stammered. "She saved my life!"

"Ah, well that puts it all in a different light, then." Athena calmly tapped her fingers against the wood of her desk. "Do you know who she is?"

"Her name's Grace, and she's an ice wizard. That's all I know about her."

"Well, I would advise you to put your mind elsewhere. You cannot master Final Attack by thinking about the opposite sex."

Phoenix tilted his head sheepishly. "Yes, Athena."

"Anything else? If not, we can proceed." Athena brought out her Dragon Shinebow and flexed it as well.

"Well…there was this hunter I met some while ago too."

"And?"

"He was…strong. I owe him a lot."

"Really?" She examined him for a bit. "What was he like?"

"Raven hair and dark eyes, that sometimes glitter with a strange light."

Something caught Athena's heart. Could Phoenix be talking about…

"He said his name was Gault Isentryx."

Athena sat in stunned silence for a bit, but her thoughts were quickly disordered again by Phoenix's words.

"He told me about something. He said the archers were outpowered by the rest of the classes. He told me there was going to be…a revolt." He shook his head darkly. "A revolt of the archers."

While Athena pondered the meaning of Gault's enigmatic words, Phoenix continued. "And…and he told me to find him as soon as I became level fifty. That's all."

"I see." She stared down at her desk, her mind besieged with relentless questions. So Phoenix and Gault had been in contact before. It was a mysterious coincidence, and she was happy to put it out of her mind, but what about Gault's words? This wasn't the first time he had complained about the archers being overpowered by the rest of the classes, but this whole revolt thing sounded ominous. Knowing the prowess of Gault's abilities, she did not believe any good would come out of his plans.

"Well, do you have any more to say?"

"N-no, Phoenix." She looked him over, and it suddenly came to her.

_His letter. Zakum._

Her heart twinged.

_The Dragon Shinebows. The mark of the bowmasters._

If Gault was really after the Dragon Shinebows, there could be no doubt that they had something to do with this "revolt" he was planning. There was no way that he could salvage such a powerful artifact and leave its powers alone.

Athena knew suddenly, in her heart, in that exact frame of time, that somehow, Zeraion Phoenix and Gault Isentryx would meet, and they would have to duel each other. It was a totally unfounded thought, but it was one of those premonitions that bursts upon you without warning, and somehow, you know, no matter how much you want it to be a trick of the mind, it is going to happen, whether you like it or not.

"Zeraion." She set her hand on his. "There is something I should tell you, and I am afraid it will change your life forever, whether you want it to or not."

"What is it, Master?" He could sense the urgency in her voice.

"Do you remember our previous meeting, when I told you about how difficult Final Attack was to master?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"It is imperative that you train with me now, because I must now compress years and years of pain, torture and knowledge into a span of seven levels. You see, Final Attack is not an easy thing to master. Those who have weak minds will find themselves consumed and destroyed by the mana burn. Only those who are truly dedicated to reach their goal can hope to master it." She nodded at her student.

"Yes, I know that." Phoenix shot a glance at his arm. "Believe me, Master, I understand the seriousness of your words."

"Yes, Phoenix, but what I am about to tell you is even more serious. I understated the gravity of my statements before. Only three people in the entire history of Bera have truly mastered the art of the bowman's Final Attack- that is to say, they can unleash it at will without fear of recoil. One of them is me. The second is a man called Rathias Gardner."

"I see." Phoenix felt a weight settle in his chest as he realized he would have to endure a nearly unbearable amount of torture in the years to come, under Athena's guidance.

"The third being who has mastered the art of Final Attack…" Athena swallowed, then continued. "…is Gault Isentryx."

Phoenix nearly fell out of his chair. "What?! That's impossible! He's only sixteen! How-"

"He is eighteen today." Athena cut short his stammering with a wave of her hand. "But that is irrelevant. You should know that he mastered the technique by the age of fifteen."

"Holy sh-" Phoenix bit his tongue before he used a word he knew he would regret.

"I understand your amazement." Athena said. She stood up and strung her bow. "But I must share some ominous news with you. Gault Isentryx recently took leave for Ossyria. He is on his way to Zakum Altar as we speak."

"Zakum Altar?" Phoenix stared. He could not believe that the same person who had helped him use a bow, the same person who had chased off that mage for him at Pig Beach, was a potential bowmaster and was heading off to the most dangerous place in all Bera.

"Yes. Zakum guards many treasures, one of which is this bow." She held out the Dragon Shinebow to him. "This bow contains the ancient spirit of my ancestors. Only three were ever made in the history of Bera, and their power is not to be taken lightly." She sighed. "The Dragon Shinebow would be dangerous enough in the hands of any evil-doer, but in the hands of someone who has mastered the art of mana burn…" She clasped her hand tighter around her student's. "The Dragon Shinebow uses an extremely large amount of mana to sustain its power. As a result, the mana burn generated is intensely powerful. If that power were to be harnessed…"

Phoenix saw Athena slump slightly, and he continued her sentence. "Isentryx could single-handedly destroy the balance between the four classes."

"Yes, and the world soon after." She sighed. "There is always the hope that he could use the Shinebow for good, and I sincerely hope that this is correct, but I cannot place too much faith in this theory. So, we must prepare for the worst possible scenario."

"This means I will have to master Final Attack as soon as possible." Phoenix said, hollowly.

"Yes, it does." She let go her hold on Phoenix's hand. "And it also means that someday, you may have to come face-to-face with Isentryx in a battle. You cannot underestimate his power. He can only grow stronger in the years to come."

"This is like a fairy tale where the hero is part of a prophecy to save the world." Zeraion murmured.

"No." Athena shook her head. "I think we can chalk this up to extremely unfortunate coincidence that you took an interest in Final Attack as Isentryx's powers were nearing their peak."

"There's no turning back, is there?" Zeraion stared up into Athena's eyes.

"No, Phoenix. There isn't." Athena straightened up and slid the Dragon Shinebow into her quiver. "Come along. We haven't a second to waste."

-----

"Focus your power!" Athena yelled at me. "Double Shot!" She drew back the string of her dragon bow and released, her arrows punching massive craters in the ground. She then closed her eyes and I could actually see the energy gathering around her. "Final Attack!"

The energy around her seemed to fuse and fly out of her bow. It assumed the shape of a massive dragon and flew through the air for a second before landing with a massive explosion. The crater it left behind had completely swallowed up the other two that she'd made with Double Shot. I remembered the legends about killing a dozen Balrogs at once, and now that I had seen it, I could truly believe it.

I brought my Maple Soul Searcher up to my shoulder. It was a welcome change after using Ark's Ryden for thirteen levels straight, and it possessed much more flexibility and power than its yellow-green counterpart. I scrolled it myself, with weak scrolls, but it now possessed an attack rating of 65 points, 8 more than Ark's Ryden. I hoped it would be enough to allow me to master Final Attack.

I closed my eyes. "Soul Arrow!" I could feel the mana around me moving into my fingers, ready to summon spectral projectiles at a moment's notice. I drew back the string of the Soul Searcher and concentrated the mana through my fingers, feeling the arrow materialize.

"Arrow Blow!"

The arrow shot forth from my fingertips with a blast and a flash of blue light. Immediately, I felt the magic flow through the air and I concentrated hard, blocking out all other thought. I felt the unstable mana gather itself at my palm and I drew back the bowstring again.

"Final Attack!"

The spectral arrow left my hand with a rush and a blast of vicious heat, but I managed to keep my grip on the Soul Searcher as the arrow flew through the air and landed with a bang, creating a small explosion of its own and leaving a crater, though not nearly as large as Athena's.

She nodded. "You seem to have the general idea of it, but you need to exert more control over the magic. Remember that it is unstable and it will destroy you if you let it out of your grasp. Focus!"

"Yes, Master." I said. My hand was still hot with the heat from the attack. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead and drew the bow to my shoulder again, gathered the magic for my attack again.

"Arrow Blow!"

The arrow flew through the air and hit the ground with a bang, but I could have cared less about where it went. I was only focusing on the leftover, unstable magic around me, and I seized it with my mind. It is hard to describe the sensation of using Final Attack; a virtual tug-of-war with the unstable energy, trying to focus your mind and control it, as opposed to it revenging itself upon you.

I was ready to release, but I suddenly let my mind falter for a split second. It was the slighest fraction of a second, but it was enough. With a vicious roar, the mana freed itself from my mental grasp, as I struggled to recapture it.

I released the arrow and at the same time felt it sear my right wrist up to the palm. I bit my tongue and tried not to cry out from the pain, as the arrow feebly soared a few meters and landed with a small explosion.

"I told you to _concentrate_!" Athena rounded on me, her eyes blazing with fury. She showed me no pity, despite there being a vicious sear mark on my palm that I was frantically licking at, to ease the pain.

But at the same time, I knew there was going to be no pity. Isentryx was after the Dragon Shinebow as I struggled with the pain, and my only hope could be absolute mastery of Final Attack if I was to face against him. I nodded. "Yes, Master. I am sorry." I hitched the bow up to my shoulder yet again and closed my eyes, this time concentrating harder than I had ever done before. I almost thought my head was going to explode.

"Arrow Blow…FINAL ATTACK!"

It was a perfect shot. The arrow left my hand, going perfectly. Instead of burning me, it left a warm, satisfying feeling that resonated throughout my body. I watched with grim satisfaction as the arrow lanced the ground and exploded, leaving a crater about ten yards in diameter.

"Good job, Phoenix." Athena nodded. "I think that's enough for today. You're well enough as it is, and I don't think you have to overtax yourself."

"Thank you, Master." I bowed as respectfully as I could, despite the aching in my arms, and left the archery range. I paid the Ellinia fare for the taxi and was soon among those beautiful forests again. Somewhat painfully, I climbed the large tree trunks, picked up the usual meal of salad for Ascion and myself, and opened the door to my house.

"Zer!" Ascion ran into my arms and I nearly dropped the salad, while the caretaker for the day, a young wizard, about level 50, watched with amusement.

"I hope he wasn't any trouble." I muttered to her.

"No, it was great." she smiled. "He's really smart, you know. I can't believe he knows so much about mana studies for his age…"

"Yeah." I nodded. "Little freak."

Suddenly, I recognized that blonde hair and that sassy voice, and this time I really did drop the salad in amazement.

"Grace!" I stuttered.

"Phoenix!" she gasped, equally surprised. "You're-"

"Yeah, I'm already over getting my arm blown up." I sighed, attempting to salvage the remains of our meal. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, some of the fairies were looking for someone to take care of someone's kid, and I accepted." She stared at me, then back at Ascion, and back at me again. "Aren't you a little young to have kids?"

"He's my brother!" I blurted out, crimson-faced.

"Ah." She chuckled. "Here, let me help you with that." She waved her staff and the salad returned itself to its bowls. "You might want to rinse that out before you eat it, though."

"So," I said hurriedly to her as I set the table, accidentally putting out an extra fork at each place, "you're level fifty now?"

"Fifty-two." she said unabashedly.

"Holy…" I sucked in my breath. "I'm only forty-three."

"Yeah, well I train a lot." Grace said simply. She glanced at the table. "You expecting company?" I turned and saw that I had accidentally set the table for three.

"Oh! Um..er…" I turned an ever deeper shade of crimson. "Well, no- I mean, I was wondering if you might want to-" Behind me, Ascion was giggling profusely, and I had a vicious urge to slap the daylights out of him.

She regarded me with that knowing look that all females have. "Sure, Phoenix."

-----


	3. Into the Belly of the Beast

Once again, it was a beautiful day in the forests of Ellinia. The forest was alight with the fairies' magic and the air was filled with the scent of sweet flowers. However, I saw little joy in this day, for today I would have to meet Athena again to continue my training, as I had already done for weeks. As I pulled on a shirt, I noted the scars on my arms. They numbered less than my master's, although I hoped that with luck they would be the only ones I would have to carry from now on.

Ascion was already awake, reading a book, casually. No surprise, I haven't seen him do anything around the house other than reading the load of books Ark sent along. I improvised a quick breakfast by finding a few spare slices of bread and holding them above the stove, then I bid good-bye to my brother and set off for Henesys.

I arrived at Athena's without incident. She greeted me, then jumped straight to the matter. "Well, Phoenix? Don't just hang around there with your mouth open. Go warm up by running forty laps around the archery strip. I'll meet you afterwards."

"Forty…" I bit back a little profanity and went out. It seemed that having the leader of Henesys as my instructor had its disadvantages, but I was in no situation to complain, so I did as she asked. By the twentieth lap, my arms were already beginning to ache, and by the thirty-fifth, my eyesight was beginning to blur. I slid to a stop in front of her, panting and cursing myself silently for not working out more.

"I suggest you run some more in your spare time, Phoenix." she said bluntly, then drew her bow. "Let's hope your mental prowess has at least improved some." She stood at the far end of the archery strip, then held up her fingers and commanded, "Puppet!"

A not-very-realistic-looking dummy planted itself half-way on the strip, about 500 feet away from me. It would be difficult to attack it with a traditional shot or even one enchanted with magic at my level, but this was not what I was caring about at the moment.

Athena nodded at me, and I aimed at the puppet, closing my eyes and calling the magic again. "Arrow Blow!"

The arrow fell short of the puppet about 50 yards, but I had no time to dwell on it. I pulled back the bowstring again in preparation as I focused hard, harder, until my veins were bulging in my forehead.

"Final Attack!"

The arrow zinged straight, through the length of the archery range, and impaled the puppet through the head, then exploded forcefully, leaving bits of burning straw and cloth everywhere. I felt grim satisfaction at my success, but at the same time, I felt uneasy, knowing the consequences if I ever had to use this on a person. Somehow, I couldn't help but feel that Athena was training me to be a killing machine…

_No. _I shook my head. _Her extreme training is only to prepare for the worst-case scenario. I must accept it for the moment._

"Excellent, Phoenix." She gave a rare smile, then became serious at once again. "I think you have Final Attack mastered…at least using Arrow Blow. But you must now work on Double Shot and Arrow Bomb if you are to have complete mastery of the technique. Simply using Arrow Blow over and over again on an enemy will not prove too successful." Her eyes stared deeply at me and I knew she was thinking about Gault.

"Yes, Master." I took a quick swig of water from the canteen on my belt.

"Now, I should warn you." She waved her hands, saying "Puppet!" once more and there were now three figures standing on the archery range, ready for me to reduce them to cinders. "Double Shot and Arrow Bomb use nearly twice as much mana as Arrow Blow. Therefore, your strength with Final Attack will be correspondingly larger, but so will the strength you will need to exert to control it. And…" Her eyes lingered on me for a moment. "…If you should fail, the recoil will be much stronger."

I ground my teeth. I had hoped that my arms would not have to bear any more scars, but almost too obviously, I had been proved wrong. Still, I aimed my bow at the three puppets staring at me from down the range. I closed my eyes and chanted a series of spells in quick succession.

"Soul Arrow!…Double Shot!…Final ATTACK!"

I pierced the first puppet through the heart with one arrow, then quickly shifted my position and caught the second one through the eye. Then, I felt an extremely large amount of mana burn surge around me, and I struggled frantically to control it. Somehow, I managed to create the third arrow, its tip shining forcefully with unstable power, but I didn't know if I could release it without fear of recoil.

Still keeping my unwieldy hold on the magic, I released the bowstring and the arrow shot through the air and landed a few yards away from the third puppet, charring its side. I felt the extreme heat from the arrow sear my palm for a bit and I gripped my hand in agony for a second. To my surprise, instead of yelling at me, Athena's eyes showed me some pity.

"Good job, Phoenix. You did very well for your first try." She nodded. "Now…" She summoned three more puppets, then arranged them in irregular positions around the field. "Try it now."

I glanced at the field. It would be difficult to try attacking them all at once while stationary. Given Athena's point- I would have to execute Double Shot and then launch Final Attack. However, let me say that it was very difficult for me to aim and struggle with the unstable magic at the same time. Nevertheless, I aimed and released.

"Double Shot…" I shifted my position, even as there was a pounding headache in my skull. "Final Attack!"

The third arrow landed about 10 yards away from the last puppet and exploded, but all it did was envelop the puppet in a large plume of smoke. When it cleared, the damn thing was still staring blankly at me.

"Phoenix, you have to subjugate the mana while aiming." She sighed. "I know how painful it must be for you, but you must accept Final Attack as a part of your daily repertoire, not just as a last-resort ultimatum. And that means you will have to practice with it, even under the most extreme circumstances."

"Yes, Master." I bowed, then eyed the three puppets that were now staring at me again. However, this time, I decided to try something different. I had always used Double Shot to do away with the two targets on the left and center, but now I realized, I had to use Double Shot on the puppets on the left and right, and use Final Attack on the center one.

"Double Shot…Final Attack!" I roared, twanging the bowstring three times in rapid succession. The arrows hit their marks, and I suffered no damage, except for a slight burning sensation on my palm. Athena nodded.

"Excellent, Phoenix." She managed to smile again. "I knew you were going to be a great ranger someday."

"But I'm not a ranger yet."

"Don't be so pessimistic." She eyed me strangely. "Are you tired?"

"Well, a little, but-"

"That's enough for now." She waved her hand and motioned for me to come inside the house. "You're on your 45th level of training, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Here." She took two lavender-colored flower-shaped earring studs from her desk. "I think these will help in the years to come."

"Indeed." I replaced the studs in my ears with Athena's. "I thank you, Master, for all your patience and your thoroughness in my training."

She gave me a dry look. "I don't think you want to thank me for the thoroughness of the training, but I am glad you appreciate it."

"Yes." I stared down at the floor.

"You do realize, that in five levels' time, you will have to meet Isentryx, as you promised."

"I didn't promise him anything." I said listlessly.

"In any case," Athena continued, glaring at me, "I said, you will have to meet Isentryx soon enough."

There wasn't anything I could say to this, so I simply bowed my head down.

"Phoenix, you should go practice on copper drakes when you have some free time. I found it excellent practice."

"Are you kidding? Those things could eat me in one gulp."

Athena eyed me with a steely glare. "I think you underestimate your powers."

-----

Sure enough, I had little intention of going to the Dangerous Valley near Perion, but I eventually got around to it. As I thought, if I was going to face Isentryx soon enough, I would have to learn to take care of a few drakes first. So I made a quick lunch for Ascion before leaving for Perion.

The sky was filled with clouds, a far cry from the peaceful landscape in Ellinia. The wind boiled as it kicked up numerous clouds of dust, occasionally blinding me every so often. I didn't know how the warriors could stand to live there. I managed to stumble my way to the Dungeon entrance before going in.

At least, inside the Dungeon, it was reasonably peaceful, the wind outside not going in the tunnel. Following Athena's directions, I made for the cave nearby to the left, took a deep breath, then dived in.

Dragons whose skin was the color of copper marched around the landscape, and I knew them to be the copper drakes that Athena had spoken of, banished from the center of Victoria Island eons ago. I exhaled, then put my fingers together.

"Soul Arrow!" The bolt of light illuminated the landscape for a precious second before a dusty wind blew in, obscuring the terrain again. Not that it mattered. Under Athena's guidance and through my dexterity as an archer, my eyes could easily track prey with the slighest of tracks. I eyed the silhouette of a drake through the dust and aimed at it, focusing my energy.

"Double Shot!" The arrows flew through the dust and disappeared, but I could hear an angry roar that told me I had hit my mark. Almost immediately, the drake burst out of the dust cloud, baring its jaws.

Needless to say, I was very frightened, never having been face-to-face with an angry drake before. However, instinct kicked in, and I roared "Arrow Blow!", not having time to harness Final Attack.

The shot struck the drake between the eyes and it fell, hitting the ground with a huge bone-shaking thud. I felt grim satisfaction as I stood over the corpse. Unsheathing my sword, I slashed the beast open and (slightly sickened- I had never gotten used to gutting animals), deftly cut out the gut-strings, then washed them in a bit of my precious water. These would last another few months for my bow.

Another drake came rushing out from the dust and I had only a moment's warning before it bore upon me. I leaped to the side and I could feel the tank of a monster rush past me. If I had been standing in front of it…No, I didn't want to know. I drew back the bowstring, aimed at it, and yelled, "Double Shot!"

The arrows struck the dragon directly and it lumbered at me, but without faltering, I gathered the mana in extreme concentration and let the arrow fly.

"Final Attack!"

The shot whizzed through the dust, fast and true. It struck the drake in the chest directly, splattering the nearby ground with dark red blood. I deftly sidestepped the carcass and went on, climbing up the ledge to have a go at some more dragons.

A large group of them, mingled with some fire boars, were hanging out near a ledge. I smiled. Perfect training fodder. This would also be a good time to try out an attack I hadn't used in quite a while.

"Arrow Bomb!" I roared, feeling the spectral arrow grow hot in my hand and glow bright orange. I released the bowstring and the fiery arrow flew through the air, leaving a smoke trail. It landed among the group of monsters, exploding with a loud bang.

Suddenly, the group of monsters began to move towards me, and I suddenly realized what I'd done. _Shit. I thought they were on a different ledge._ My attack had only served to anger them, and if I didn't do something soon this was not going to end well. I closed my eyes and gathered the magic again in preparation for another attack.

"Arrow Bomb!"

The arrow flashed past and hit the ground with another explosion, stunning them for a split second. I felt the mana rush ferociously at me, even stronger than Arrow Blow or Double Shot, and I struggled to control it, the arrow beginning to materialize at my bowstring.

_Come on, dammit. _Sweat was flying off my forehead and the monsters had recovered from the effect of my bomb and were now rushing at me again, but I could not release the arrow yet because if I did, the consequences would be disastrous. I furiously worked to keep the mana under control.

"LUCKY SEVEN!"

I heard the voice, but I ignored it completely, knowing full well what would happen if I lost concentration. Finally, the aching in my head stopped, for a brief moment, and I knew now was the time, and I finally let go of the bowstring.

The effect was stunning. A pure beam of flame-orange light burst from my bow and exploded with a thunderous roar, killing every drake in the area. Yet, I saw there was still a scar on my palm and blood dripped from my hand. It was the first time I had dared to use Arrow Bomb in conjunction with Final Attack, and it had achieved the desired result, but not without a small price.

I glanced around me to see who had yelled "Lucky Seven!" and drew the drakes' attention away from me for a precious second. Sure enough, above me, there was a blonde-haired assassin, roughly level 50, grinning lazily.

"Nice move!" he called.

"Thanks." I nodded. "I owe you a lot for distracting them back there."

"No problem." He twirled a Steely in the palm of his hand. I felt my stomach twinge. _Steely…He must be rich. _"What's your name?"

"Joseph. But everyone calls me Joe." He pushed his hat farther up his forehead. "Yours?"

"Zeraion Phoenix." I responded.

"Two first names?"

"Yes." I was growing a bit tired of explaining this to everyone.

"That's a bit much to wrap a tongue around." He considered. "Just Zer will do for now." He again flashed his smile. "So, Zer, what are you doing up here? It's not safe for people under level 50 to train with the drakes. Nasty little buggers, they are."

"Well, my master sent me here. She said it would be appropriate for me to train…" I glanced at my arms. "Given the circumstances."

"Oh. Are you a prodigy or something?" Joe wrinkled his nose.

"Well…" I considered his words, not sure of how to answer. "Kind of…In a way."

"I see." He nodded. "Well, what you did back there to those drakes was amazing. You sure you're not a prodigy?"

"No." I blushed, red-faced. "Where'd you get those Steelies?"

"Bought them." Joe said shortly. "My parents were awful rich. They got in the habit of raiding Zakum and bringing back treasures. But one day…" He sighed. "They didn't come back. I guess they finally got in way over their head."

"Oh." I said, quietly. "I'm…sorry."

"No, it was okay." Joe shook his head. "I didn't like them much. They seemed to care more about finding treasure than taking care of their kids." He sighed. "I live by myself now. Legally, I could- and I did- inherit half of my parents' possessions. The other half went to my big sis."

"Well…" I prepared myself for an answer. "How rich are you, exactly?"

Joe turned away from me, slightly. "Seven hundred mil, at last count."

"Sweet mother of Balrog." I mused. _He's only fifteen, and he has 700,000,000 mesos to his name? Holy…_

"Doesn't matter." Joe waved it away. "I didn't do much with it, anyway. Only a mansion, food, and some equipment." He drew back the the inside of his jacket to reveal countless sets of Steelies and Ilbis, even…(my heart nearly thudded out of my chest) a set of the legendary Hwabis.

"Yeah." Joe sighed. "The rest's in the vault. Haven't touched it in a while."

"I see." I sighed. "Well, in any case, Joe, I just want to thank you for saving my life."

"No problem, Zer." He stared wistfully off into the distance, no doubt with his mind on other things.

"So, Joe," I said, breaking the awkward silence, "you wanna train together for a little while?"

His mood brightened a little. "Sure, Zer."

-----

At first, my first impression of Joe was that of a spoiled, rich assassin, but as we fought together, I could see how far off I was. Joe was an expert in the art of shuriken-do: throwing stars. Apparently, he'd trained for hours on end on this art, practicing it with a zeal that almost matched mine with Final Attack. Not only that, but he was highly educated, having hired several tutors to teach him about advanced mathematics, literature, life sciences, mana studies, and various other subjects.

When I commented that that must have been a lot of work, he merely flung a Steely at a nearby drake and said, "Knowledge is priceless." I immediately resolved to read more of Ark's books as soon as I got home.

He seemed to take an active interest in Final Attack, cheering every time I performed it successfully. At first, I almost feared that he would rush out as soon as I told him about it, but when I showed him my arms, he seemed to lose interest.

Although I had said to Joe that I would only be training with him for a little while, I ended up staying with him until sunset, and I had not taken notice of the time. Cursing slightly, I took quick leave of Joe. "Hope we meet again someday."

Joe's eyes seemed to narrow. "We will."

I returned to Ellinia quickly, picking up the meal of salads again, then headed home. Ascion greeted me happily; today was his twelfth birthday and he was on his twentieth level of experience as a magician. His knowledge, to my chagrin, was beginning to surpass mine swiftly; this only hardened my resolve to read some more of Ark's books. I suddenly remembered that I had completely forgotten to give him a gift, and I cursed silently. I decided to go out and see what I could find before it got late.

The cool night air of Ellinia greeted me as I stepped out, wondering what I could give my little brother. Perhaps a book? No, Ark had already sent too many of those. Maybe a toy? Perhaps, but Ascion had already lost his interest in toys as soon as he became a magician, single-minded in his pursuit of becoming a cleric. Finally, I passed the window of the Ellinia Armory, and I decided to give him a staff. A shiny new Wizard's Staff, to be exact. It would put a somewhat tight strain on my wallet, but my brother was worth it. I paid for the weapon and headed for home, but on the way, I bumped into the first and the last person I wanted to meet.

"Grace!" I stammered again. She was holding a package and wearing clothes that I couldn't quite identify.

"Phoenix, what is with you?" She sighed. "Stop blubbering every time you see me. You look like an idiot, you know that?"

"Sorry." I blushed. "Nice clothes."

"Really? Thanks." She smiled. "Just turned level 60."

I nearly choked. How the _hell _did she level so fast? Forbidden magic? But I put the matter away in my mind. "Who's the package for?"

She eyed me strangely. "It's for your brother. It IS his birthday today, right?"

"Yeah, it is." I gave her a once-over, appreciating her beauty even more in the dim light of the Ellinian atmosphere.

"Phoenix, what the hell are you staring at?" Grace's sharp voice jolted me out of my reverie.

"Oh- er, nothing." I felt myself glow a deep red. To my surprise, Grace only smiled and moved closer, her head incredibly close to mine.

"You know…" She purred seductively into my ear. "You're really cute when you're embarrassed."

Her lips grazed my cheek, and next thing I knew, she was gone, leaving her package in my arms.

I tried to look as blasé as possible when I returned home, but I couldn't fool Ascion.

"Hey, Zer, why's your face all red?" he asked in an innocent voice.

"Nothing." I said quickly. "I got you a birthday present." I held the staff out to him quickly before he pursued the issue further. "Have fun with it."

"Wow, a Wizard Staff!" Ascion hugged his new present tightly. "Thanks, Zer."

"No problem, bro." Unfortunately, just then, I saw Ascion's eyes fall on the second package. "Who's that from?"

"Umm…" I froze for a second, my cheeks turning crimson. "Just someone I met."

Ascion eyed me oddly. "Zer, I haven't seen you like this ever since Grace came to our-" He suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, staring at me. "Ohmigod!" he squealed. "She _kissed _you, didn't she?"

"No!" I snapped, my cheeks turning even redder. "Well, kind of- I mean, er…oh, stuff it. She sent you that package." I sighed.

Ascion untied the ribbon of the package, humming something as he worked. Finally, he drew out the contents. It was a beautiful cake, with _Happy 12th Birthday Ascion _printed on it with icing. I sighed. Well, this saved me the trouble of buying a cake for him later.

"Wow, it looks yummy!" He giggled. "Can we eat it now?"

"Sure." I sighed, then took a knife and cut the cake. I could hear Ascion humming the same tune while I worked. It sounded like…

"Zer's in love…Zer's in love…"

"ASCION!" I roared, glaring at him dangerously, still with the cake knife in my hand. He let out a squeal of mock horror and then collapsed into laughter on the table.

"Ascion, you better keep your mouth shut if you want any of this cake." I snarled. This threat had the desired effect, and he immediately fell silent.

Afterwards, the birthday boy took a hurried shower and went off to his room, no doubt to read a book (and probably think of ways to torment me about Grace). I sat in silence, alone, at the table, just thinking, for no particular reason, about Gault.

Where was he, and what was he doing now? Could he already have the Dragon Shinebows in his posession? And what would he do with them, if he had them? Would he use them for good or for evil? And (my heart twinged) what would I have to do, in that final ultimatum, when I would eventually have to battle him? Maybe I wouldn't have to, I reassured myself. Maybe he is just taking a stroll to Zakum for his own personal amusement and he's not going to start a wide-scale war that could engulf Bera.

I laughed humorlessly at myself. _Great theory, Zer. That makes SO much sense._

Tiredly, I retrieved my geometry constructions book from the shelf in the back, took up a pencil, and began to work, my confused mind settling as my pencil scratched lines upon the paper, lines that cut deep into the paper, as my scars cut deep into my flesh.

-----

Once again, the moon shone brightly above the sleepy little village of Henesys. Most of the young archers and hunters were in their beds, dreaming about the spoils for the next day. However, the village still bustled with activity, even more so as when it had been day.

Athena's footsteps echoed quietly throughout the grounds of Mushroom Park. Her thoughts strayed across Zeraion Phoenix for a brief second, but she pushed them away. He was doing very well, even better than she'd done in her own youth, and he had gained a fairly wide mastery of Final Attack. His powers could only grow in the years to come. She could only hope that his rate of progress could match Gault's.

Gault…Her heart twinged uncomfortably. Where was he? Did he have the Dragon Shinebows? Those were all questions that she didn't want the answer to, but she felt she would have them soon enough.

At the far end of the path, someone was waiting for her. The moonlight shone upon his experienced face, the dark brown hair that had been blonde at one time, and the familiar stubble that grazed his chin. She recognized it instantly, and it was a welcome face that she'd been yearning to see for a while.

"Well met, Athena." Unlike most of the other bowmen who'd been in contact with her, he shook her hand in a friendly gesture.

"Aye, Rathias." She nodded to him. "I trust your respite in Ossyria went well?"

"It could have been better." He glanced up at the moon before talking. "It is not wise to have this discussion outside. Do you think we should retire to your chambers?"

"I agree." The two walked to the large tree in the middle of Mushroom Park. When they went inside, Athena waited for Gardner to take a seat before she broke the silence.

"So, what befell you?" she asked.

"I went to Zakum Altar with some companions." he said shortly. There was something in his face that troubled Athena.

"What companions?" she asked, staring into his face.

"Traphes, Delinia, Arklen, and Maxwell." Those were the names of a few distinguished rangers and snipers that Athena had taught years ago. "And Gault Isentryx."

She drew in her breath sharply. "You went with Isentryx?"

"Yes, and I believe that is where my so-called 'respite' could have been better." He accepted a cup of tea from Athena and took a small sip before continuing. "He has improved much over these years."

"That's not something I wish to hear at present." Athena said shortly, causing a look of surprise to appear on her companion's face. "What level is he?"

"Turned ninety-three last week, I believe." Gardner's face was creased with worry. "At this rate, he could very well be a hundred at any moment."

"That is unfortunate." She sighed. "So, am I to believe that you found anything of value at Zakum Altar?"

"Yes, indeed." There was a smile of self-satisfaction on his face. "Iggy found a Metus, Shin found a Fairfrozen and Torr got a…can't remember the name off the top of my head, I think it was-"

Athena cut him off short. "Enough. Was young Isentryx looking for anything in particular?"

Gardner's happy face turned sober almost at once. "Now that you mention it, not only was he looking for something, he found it."

"Was it a Metus?" she said dryly.

"My dear, I believe that's the first time you've ever told a joke." He sipped a bit more of his tea, then continued. "No, it wasn't a Metus, and I'm not going to pretend you're stupid enough to believe it."

"So it was the Shinebow." A tear dripped from her eye and it caught the moonlight. "I fear to think what may happen when he becomes experienced enough to use it."

To Athena's great surprise, Gardner became cheerful almost at once. "Well, it's not the end of the world." he said airily. "So he gets a new toy; big deal. It's not like he's going to destroy the world with it-"

"I received information from someone that he is planning an uprising." Athena said in a low voice. "I have had my suspicions about the Shinebow having something to do with the matter, but this only seems to confirm them more and more." She suddenly lashed out at him in anger. "Why didn't you stop him from taking it?!" she roared.

Gardner nearly spilled the tea over himself, so surprised was he by Athena's outburst. "You think I could have? He was like an animal after we sealed Zakum. Did you see the look in his eyes when he found the Shinebow? I think that if anyone had tried to take it, he would have shot us all right then and there."

"That's not helping my mood, Rathias." Athena said dryly. "If you're scared of a teenager, then that is not going to help my faith in you."

"Well, would this?" Gardner responded in kind, taking something out of his quiver.

Athena's eyes widened. "You found the Shinebow?" she gasped.

"No." Gardner sighed. "There were two in the altar. I only had time to seize one."

She slumped onto her desk. "Lighten up, Athena." Gardner tried to salvage the situation. "We have two and he has one. How bad can things be?"

"Rathias, you were fighting with him at Zakum Altar." she sighed. "If you have gauged his powers, you would know what he is capable of."

"Who cares what he's capable of?" Gardner waved that away. "Think of what we're capable of. All we need is to corner him and pow!" He slammed a fist into his palm. "It doesn't matter what level he is; no ranger is going to survive a fight against two bowmasters-"

She cut him off. "Were you drinking today?"

He sighed. "Athena, your jokes are harsh."

"I'm well aware of that. But in any case, I am glad that you managed to seize the third Shinebow." She returned the bow to him. "Train hard."

"You're treating me like a kid, Athena." Gardner dryly stuck the Shinebow back in his quiver. "Just because you're the only bowmaster in the world doesn't mean you have to lord it over everyone else."

"Gardner, if the future plays itself out, we very well may have two new bowmasters." She glared at him, trying to make her point clear. "And I would like it if at least one of them was on our side."

"Okay, jeez. What would you suggest?"

"Try the Aqua Road dungeons."

"Very well." He left.

She sighed. He probably had been drinking, even if it had been a little. Usually, he was more formal and uptight with her. She knew him too well.

-----

"Double Shot."

I said the words clearly, calmly, with a different air. The arrows flew effortlessly from my fingertips and speared the Chronos neatly through the heart, killing it. Another was behind it, but I closed my eyes and began to concentrate again. The mana flowed effortlessly through my fingertips, the arrow materializing almost instantly. I was in a state of pure concentration, unaware of the time slowly drifting around me.

"Final Attack."

I speared three Chronos in succession as the arrow shot out and blew through the ghosts like a hot knife through butter. There were horrible cries as their spirits departed, and they were gone, leaving their cogs behind. I picked them up and stuffed them in my pack, wordlessly.

I had been under Athena's guidance for a year. I was now fifteen years of age. During that time, I had learned extreme patience and stamina. I no longer complained when Athena ordered me to run forty or fifty times around Mushroom Park. I no longer had to strain my nerves or fear for burning myself when I used Final Attack. It simply came, naturally.

I had already experienced much pain, as I had expected. Even the sleeves of my White Piette could not fully mask the scars that I had endured for ages. Daily, Athena had pressed me to focus harder, concentrate harder. And every day, I got a little better. Every day, I could feel my progress as the power whipped around me.

Now, I didn't even feel it. I could almost release the technique at will- not quite, but almost. I no longer had to strain, to focus the power. It just came naturally to me, as though it knew that I was going to control it. My mind had progressed to the point that I could easily harness the power that was exerted in any of my attacks; Arrow Blow, Double Shot, or Arrow Bomb; it meant nothing to me.

I knew I had not mastered it, not by a long way, as the mana still eluded my grip every so often, but I no longer needed to fear recoil. Either my arms had numbed to the point where I couldn't feel pain, or my mind had sharpened to the point where it could easily block the force baring upon me.

"Arrow Bomb…Final Attack." The arrows flew from my Soul Searcher, the first one exploding and striking the Chronos, stunning them, the second one flying like a javelin and striking the ground with a massive explosion, destroying their bodies and releasing their souls. With grim satisfaction, I collected the charred cogs on the ground.

I was on my forty-ninth level. Athena had sent me to Ludibrium, telling me that it would be good experience. She also requested that I return to Henesys as soon as I reached level fifty, immediately. The word in her letter was underlined with three deep marks in the parchment, and I could sense that something big was about to happen.

"Arrow Blow…Final Attack." Once again, another brace of Chronos fell to my powers, and I pressed on. The only way I could reach my fiftieth level was if I trained, relentlessly. I rummaged through my pack and took out a brown pill from the Ludibrium potion store. It was a warrior pill, and it tasted like dirt, but it contained a special mix of nutrients and chemicals that highly boosted one's attack power, and I was loathe to pass it up. Even so, it still tasted revolting, and I had to wash it down with some water.

A beam of pink light flashed by me and I dived to the floor. It narrowly missed me, but even so, it grazed my shoulder and I could feel a slight pain. However, it was nothing compared to the pains of Final Attack. I quickly realized I had walked into Master Chronos territory, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I lay down and fired my shot from the ground. A simple Double Shot to Final Attack combo was enough to take it out.

I shook my head, the sweat flowing off my blonde hair as I did so. I hadn't cut my hair in quite a while, and as a result instead of hanging in a disheveled clump on my head, it hung to the base of my neck. Ascion teased me about this, telling me, "Zer, before, you were a boy with a lot of face problems, but now you're a girl with a lot of face problems." I had given him a smack upside the head for that, but I couldn't blame him.

He had a razor-sharp wit and intellect, and he had achieved his dream of becoming a cleric a couple of months ago. I'll never forget his face when he burst home in happy tears and told me he had just received his second blessing from Grendel. Now, he's training to be a Priest. What a psycho. I had given little thought, if any, to my third job advancement as of late.

"Arrow Bomb…Final Attack!" I took out a group of Chronos nearby. I saw something flutter into the air as they disintegrated and I ran over to it. It was a Dark Calas. Perfect for that brat brother of mine. Smiling, I folded it and stowed it away before continuing on. I was nearly level fifty…only a few more of these ghosts to go.

"Arrow Bomb! Final Attack! Arrow Blow! Final Attack!" My shouts blended in with the cries of the Chronos as they disintegrated. I gave little thought to them as they wasted away. I only had to kill a couple more now.

"Double Shot." I pulled the string back, and two arrows shot through the air into the heart of one Chronos. A double critical. It shrieked, as another one appeared to take its place.

"Final Attack." I let the arrow fly, my eyes shadowed, and the arrow lanced it straight in the heart and exploded, taking out a few more around it as well. I felt my strength return to me in a sudden rush and I raised my bow to the sky.

I had done it. I had reached my fiftieth level at last. Finally, I had reached that precious level. Now, I had to return to Athena at once and consult her on what my next course of action would be.

-----

Athena Pierce was sitting in her room, staring out at the night window. She was expecting two letters from her students at any time.

The mail carrier poked his head in. "Hello, Athena. You received two letters. I'll just put them over here." He left the two scrolls on a nearby table before he withdrew.

She glanced at the scrolls, then walked over, slit them open, and began to read. Both were very short.

_Master:_

_I have reached my hundredth level of training at last. I am also now nineteen years of age. If paying a visit to you does not seem too troublesome, I will arrive at once._

_Gault Isentryx_

_Master:_

_I have reached my fiftieth level of training at last. As you requested, I am now on my way to Henesys village as you read this. I hope to see you soon and await your advice._

_Zeraion Phoenix_

After reading both letters, she folded them twice and with a flick of her hand, set both aflame, where they burned into ashes and were immediately blown away by a gust of wind. She stood up, awaiting the arrival of both Gault and Zeraion.

-----

Gault arrived at the stroke of ten. As soon as he came in, he bowed to Athena. "Well met, Master."

"Well met, Gault." Athena sighed. "I trust your journey to Zakum Altar went well?"

Gault's lips curled up in the thinnest of smiles. "Indeed."

"So," Athena asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, "did you find anything interesting?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." Gault withdrew a heavy, golden bow from his quiver. "The Dragon Shinebow, I have heard."

"Yes." She touched the bow, to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

She wasn't. Reluctantly, she pushed the bow back towards Gault. "Congratulations. I thought that it had been sealed away by Zakum forever more."

"I thought so, too." He slid the bow back in his quiver. "However, records of that bow have existed. When I read them, I decided to acquire it, no matter the cost." His eyes glittered for a moment, unnerving Athena.

"I see. What do you plan to do with it?" she asked, in a very casual tone.

"Something I should have done a long time ago." he murmured, stroking the length of the bow thoughtfully. An uneasy silence hung in the air after these words, a silence that was gratefully interrupted by someone opening the door and entering the room.

Both Gault and Athena, level 100+ bowmen, turned to see a hunter half their level make his way sheepishly into the center of the room. Both recognized him at once.

"Ah, Phoenix." both said at the same time. He nodded a greeting to both and plopped himself in a chair.

"Tired, Phoenix?" Gault said dryly. Phoenix cast a glance at Gault. "Good day to you too, Gault." he sighed.

"So, Phoenix, I take it you have reached your fiftieth level now." Athena said. "I offer you my congratulations."

"And mine as well." Gault said, stroking his Dragon Shinebow some more.

"Thank you." Phoenix relaxed further in the chair. "Have you anything else for me?"

"Not at the moment." Athena said, casting a wary eye at Gault. "I congratulate you also on your skills with Final Attack." Gault looked at Phoenix in surprise.

"He's mastered Final Attack?"

"Well, that depends on your definition of 'mastered', but yes, I believe he is more than competent." Athena stood up and walked out of the house to take her nightly walk, leaving Phoenix and Gault to themselves.

"So." Gault fixed his steely eyes on Phoenix. "I see you're level 50 at last."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to take me up on that offer I made you some years ago or not?"

Phoenix paused, then considered. "Yes…Yes, I will."

"Excellent." Gault got up. "I have a residence some distance away from here, and I would be happy to offer you a meal and a bed for the night. Tomorrow, we'll start."

"Start what?"

Gault eyed Phoenix. "Why, the beginning stages of the rise of the archers. What else?"

Phoenix glanced at Gault. "I…I…of course, I'll accept."

"Good." Gault motioned for Phoenix to follow. "Come along. Tomorrow, you can meet some of the people I've commisioned. I'm making an address to the bowmen tonight. We'll gather tomorrow for our first meeting." After these words, he left, Phoenix following closely behind.

-----

Into the hornet's nest, so to speak. That was where I was going, right into the heart of my supposed enemy. But I had no choice. Training as a recluse wouldn't help my case against Gault, and I had to gather evidence and information on his plans.

My feet were beginning to get tired as we walked along the dark Henesys dungeon path. "How much further is it?" I whined.

Gault looked at me. "Just another mile. It's not that far."

"A mile-" I cut off the rest of my sentence. The last thing I wanted was for Gault to think I was too weak to travel a mile. He turned away from me without another word, as I followed behind.

After about ten minutes, Gault stopped. "Here we are." he said, pointing to his left.

My eyes followed to where he was pointing, at a clump of bushes. "Um, Gault, that's just a-"

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "Shh." Slowly, he bent near the bush and whispered something I couldn't hear.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the bush began to change color, from green to a metallic shade of silver. Then it began to grow. It wasn't a bush anymore, it was a-

A gate. Even as I watched in awe, the trees behind the gate weren't trees anymore, their bark was changing color and shape, forming the outline of a house…no, not a house, a mansion, more like. Slowly, as I watched this awe-inducing display of terraforming, my eyes were widening and my jaw dropped, while Gault watched in semi-amusement.

Then, with a loud roar and a crack, the house finally rose up out of the ground, and I was left looking at a huge mansion with stunning gates and a large grounds behind it. Probably a massive archery range. I shuddered at this display of power. It was hard to believe that the hunter I'd encountered years ago was capable of…all this.

"Nice, isn't it?" Gault smiled, seeing my dumbfounded face. "Built it a year ago. It cost a pretty penny, but money's not an issue when you have a hoard of stuff from raiding Zakum Altar." He whispered something to the gate and it opened. "Come in and don't be shy. Aside from the servants, we're the only ones here at the moment."

-----

Dinner was served shortly after we arrived at Gault's mansion. He offered me a choice of rare and delectable courses, but remembering ten-year old Ascion's words with the snails, I denied all his offers and ordered a salad instead. Nevertheless, he complied and presented a meal that I think would have immediately converted all carnivores. The veggies inside it were unbelievably fresh and seasoned perfectly. I thanked Gault profusely after the dinner.

"It's nothing, Phoenix. Nothing at all." He waved it away. "The others; that is to say, the other captains of our coalition, so to speak, will be arriving in about-" He glanced at a large clock mounted on the wall. "-three hours. Do you think you can stay up until then or do you want to go to sleep now?"

"Um…" I did want to stay up and find out more about his plans, but I was very tired. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd really like to call it a day, if you don't mind." I gave him a knowing glance and moved my arms.

"Oh." he said, shooting a quick glance at my arms, a scar peeking out from the edge of my sleeve. "Of- of course. Forgive me. There's several guest rooms upstairs. You can have your pick of any one. Get a good night's rest. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day." He rubbed his hands in anticipation.

I thanked him and left for the stairs. As I walked past him, I noticed the Dragon Shinebow peeking out of his quiver, identical to Athena's.

"Nice bow." I murmured.

"Thanks." he replied. I climbed up the stairs and went into the nearest guest room.

"Holy-" I sucked in my breath. It was like a palace. A huge bed that could have comfortably held 5 people was in a corner, a large dresser and a refrigerator next to it. There was a shelf of books in another corner, a large gem-encrusted mirror mounted on the wall, and the whole room was lighted with glowing crystals on the ceiling that resembled dragons' heads. In the back of my head, I remembered Joe and wondered if he had a mansion like this.

I took off my clothes and had a quick shower to clean myself, then put on the provided dressing-gown and climbed into the bed. It was unbelievably soft- like I was sleeping on a nice, fluffy cloud. I laid my head on the pillow and thought everything over.

_He seems like a nice guy. He's definitely rich, and he's very hospitable. _I cuddled the pillow some more. _Maybe we were wrong about him. Maybe he just wants to do good and run a bowman-training school._

But then again, why would he need the Dragon Shinebow? _Maybe just to mark his superiority. It's not like he would try to destroy the world with it…Maybe it's just one of those treasures he found at Zakum and wants to keep._

My stomach churned. _I hope._

-----

The sunlight streaming on my face awoke me in the morning. For a second, I didn't know where I was; then, I remembered accepting Gault's hospitality last night. Yesterday, he had said the other "captains" of the "coalition" would be here today and I could meet them. It was probably going to be an exciting experience, but why did he have to use terms like 'captain' and 'coalition'? It sounded like he was forming an army or something, and that was not a helpful thought.

I showered and brushed my teeth. When I stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around my waist, I noticed that something was on the dresser table near my bed that I hadn't noticed before. It was a package with a note pinned to it. I tore off the note and read it.

_Phoenix,_

_Congratulations again on level 50. I trust you had a good night's sleep; today you'll be meeting several of my friends, and I hope you become acquainted with them._

_Last night, I took the liberty of going to the Free Market and buying you some equipment in light of your recent achievements. Don't worry about the cost; it was a mere bagatelle. _

_Hope to see you downstairs soon._

_Gault_

Level 50 equips? I unwrapped the package, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

Gault had really overdone himself this time. There was a blue-colored bowman gown, its reinforced sleeves like fabric, but its power like steel armor. I put it on and I could feel myself grow lighter, more dextrous. There was a pair of Dark Willows, and I could actually feel my dexterity increase as I slipped them on. Was all of this stuff scrolled? Most likely. I felt my heart twinge as I thought how much this must have cost.

There was a pair of purple-colored steel-tipped boots, comfortable but extremely durable. There was a pair of skull-shaped earring studs, glinting sinisterly in the sunlight and I slipped them into my ears. There was a Black Maro cap and I put it on. It was extremely comfortable and it was a long cry from the tight Distinction that I had been wearing for a while. There was a long, white Napoleon cape, its length trailing on the floor. I put this on too and felt it enhance my dexterity. Scrolled, I bet. Under the cape, as I had expected, there was an Olympus.

The blue bow glinted beautifully in the sunlight and I picked it up and twanged it. It felt extremely powerful, and I thought of the damage I could wreak with it and Final Attack. It came with a stabilizer, a device that, quite obviously, could stabilize my shots. I opened the window and aimed the bow outside.

"Arrow Blow…Final Attack!"

The initial burst of energy flew extremely far into the sky and fell into the trees below, about 600 feet, I would have to guess. However, I concentrated my energy, which was not difficult at all with Arrow Blow, and refired. This second attack pulsed even further, leaving a light trail behind it before it fell with a massive explosion in the forest below, felling several trees. I shuddered. Had my prowess with this skill improved that much? Maybe it was Gault's bow and armor, but I doubted it.

Satisfied with myself, I stuck the Olympus in my quiver and prepared to head out. There was a jacket on the door, with a note on it.

_Phoenix, this is an officer's uniform. I know it might sound inconvenient, but while you stay with me I want you to wear this at all times, unless you're in your room. I think it encourages a sense of authority as a captain, and besides, it also looks nice._

_Gault_

Sure enough, it was slightly inconvenient to wear the uniform over my robe, but as I stared at myself in the mirror, I was too vain to complain about the inconveniences anymore.

-----

I hurried downstairs for breakfast, where the warm smell of toasting bread greeted me as I walked down into the dining room. Gault was seated at the head of the massive table, but there were also several other rangers I didn't recognize, and one sniper, all wearing the same uniform that I was wearing. Unsure of where to sit, I finally picked the seat next to the sniper. He barely glanced at me as I sat down.

"Ah, Phoenix." Gault smiled. "You sleep well?"

"Yes, very." I responded. "I thank you for the equipment."

"It was nothing." He waved it away. "Now have a little buttered toast and let me introduce you to these guys." As I took some bread, he pointed to various people in turn.

First, there was Rathias Gardner, the ranger seated next to Gault at the table and the same one that Athena had mentioned had mastered Final Attack. He looked somewhat grim, with his dark amber hair and his serious experssion. He also had a little stubble on his chin and I estimated him to be in his mid-thirties. According to Gault, he was level 107 and the same level as he was. I felt a jolt in my chest. Here I was, surrounded my people who were more than twice my level; what was I doing here? I glanced at my arms and thought, _The only reason I'm in this group is because I've mastered Final Attack, and because I've met him before. If not for that, I'd just be another junkie._

The woman sitting opposite Gardner had long, red hair that flowed past her waist. She was also very beautiful and I pictured her to be like Grace, except about ten years older. She had a Fire Arund slung over her shoulder. Her name was Delinia Arklanser and she was level 93.

Next, there was a dark-haired ranger with dark eyes and a calm, forbidding expression. I think if there was one word to describe him, it would be 'sullen." He barely smiled and didn't open his mouth except to eat. His name was Traphes Igzarion and he was level 88.

Fourthly, there was another girl, with light brown shoulder-length hair. She was very pretty, but didn't possess the same kind of womanly beauty that Arklanser and Grace had. Rather, she was more on the cute side. She had a Golden Hinkel on her back. Her name was Natalia Arundale and she was level 77.

Lastly, there was the sniper. He was the youngest in the group, aside from me, and had a serious expression not unlike Gardner's. He had shoulder-length golden amber hair, and he wore square gun-steel spectacles that made him look much older and mature than he really was. Unlike the others, he greeted me with a quick "Well met, Zeraion Phoenix" before turning his attention back to his food. He had a Gross Jaeger over his shoulder and he was level 72. His name was Rysdale Tales.

So, there I was, sitting in a high-class dining room, surrounded by these highly experienced men and women, and I didn't know what else to say except "Heya, guys." I heard the ranger Igzarion say to Arundale, "Who the hell is this?"

"They should be arriving any second now." Gault set down his fork. "We should go meet them." The rest of the officers rose from the table and departed towards the front door. I hurriedly glomped down some more toast and followed them.

There was a clamor that could be heard even inside the mansion. Beaming, Gault threw open the door. Everyone, including me, drew a deep breath. About a hundred eager hunters, crossbowmen, rangers, and snipers were lined up outside the gates, ready for action.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Gault said, addressing us six, "welcome to the next few years of your life."

-----

Author's Note: All your review are belong to us. (Cough)


	4. Iggy and Tales

**Chapter 4**

The wind blew softly through the great forests of Ellinia, ruffling Ascion Blade's hair for a moment. He sighed, unfolded a scrap of parchment, glanced at it, then continued on. His Wizard Wand was stuck in the pocket of his Dark Chaos Robe, but in addition to a sharp wit and a encyclopedic mind, he also had lightning-quick reflexes and could draw the weapon at a moment's notice.

"Only a couple more miles until Perion." He snarled. "Dammit, I wish I could teleport…" He shook his head. "No. Master Grendel emphasized the importance of healing magic above all. I need the exercise, anyway." He swung himself up a rope, then pulled himself up the ledge, where he immediately slipped on a banana peel. "What the-"

He tripped in the air, his legs flailing, and his bottom hit the tree ledge painfully. He swore, wondering who the hell would leave banana peels in the middle of Ellinia forest, when his question was answered by an angry screeching. He turned to see a Lupin, banana in hand, angrily chattering at him.

"Uh-oh." Quickly, he drew out his wand and yelled, "Magic Guard!" just as it threw another banana peel at him. It bounced off his shield, but he winced anyway, knowing that any damage to his guard would only deplete his mana reserves. "Magic Claw!"

Two blades of magical energy burst out of his wand and struck the Lupin directly, but it seemed unfazed, throwing another banana at him. He ducked it with surprising reflexes for a magician, then roared "Magic Claw!" again. The magic struck the Lupin dead-center, but it wasn't enough. It leapt at him, scratching his face and leaving a bloody mark. _If I had Holy Arrow, this thing would be toast._ He swore, then struck again. "Magic Claw!"

Finally, the blades of the arcane spell struck the Lupin between the eyes, and it fell to the ground, stunned. He kicked it off the narrow forest ledge and watched in grim satisfaction as it fell several hundred feet to the ground. "Stupid little bugger." He pressed his fingers to his bleeding cheek and murmured, "Heal." The flesh knitted itself back together. He rubbed his cheek, satisfied for the moment, then continued on towards Perion.

-----

"Ladies and gentlemen," Gault said, addressing us six, "welcome to the next few years of your life."

I continued to stare with amazement at the clamoring group of bowmen. How did Gault manage to rally up so many people overnight, let alone tell them how to discover the hidden house? No matter. I guess word spread. With a flourish, Gault opened the gates and the crowd trampled in, staring eagerly up at all of us.

"So." He nodded. "Let's see. You five-" he gestured to all the captains except Gardner- "can stay in the house for a bit until I get this whole mess sorted out. You'll have the names of your units in about one hour's time." Without hesitation, Arklanser, Igzarion, Arundale, Tales, and I ventured in the house, the door closing itself behind us.

Feeling slightly awkward and put-out, I twisted my hands behind my back for a moment before Arklanser's voice broke the silence. "So, you're Zeraion Phoenix?"

"Yeah."

"Heh. What level are you?"

"Fifty."

"I could tell." she said in a slightly sharp voice, then turned away and struck up a conversation with Igzarion and Arundale. I quickly realized that being level 50 was not going to really help my position here, no matter what level of Final Attack I had. Out of boredom, I turned to the sniper, Tales.

"Hey." I murmured. He looked at me. "Hey."

"So…" I tried to start a conversation. "Um…How'd you get here in the first place?"

"Affirmative Action." He sighed, twanging the string of his Gross Jaeger. "If all our captains were rangers, then all the crossbowmen would revolt. I was the only one available at the moment."

"Oh." I wondered why he, of all people, had been chosen by Gault to be a captain. Surely there were higher-leveled snipers out there? However, Tales, seeing my face, added, "And I was Gault's neighbor when we were kids. We were born on the same day."

"Really?" I mused. "So how come he's thirty-five levels higher than you?"

He tensed up a bit and I regretted making that comment. However, all he said was, "Gault trained much more than I did- or more than I do." He shrugged. "I haven't trained a lot in a while." There was a kind of dry air to his words that suggested that he did not particularly like Gault.

"Do you know him well?"

"For a while, yeah, I did." He sighed. "Then he started getting more distant as his level got higher. It's always like that…friendships and families breaking up for the sake of training…kinda sad, actually."

"Tales." I put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me in surprise. "How old are you?"

"Same age as Gault. Nineteen." he said, his calm expression enhanced by his glasses. "You?"

"Fifteen." I shrugged. "Tales, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you trust Gault?"

He considered the question very carefully, and I could see that he was trying how best to answer it. Finally, he simply said, "I neither trust nor distrust him."

His cryptic answer prompted me to ask, "Then why are you in his…coalition in the first place?"

He raised an eyebrow in amused annoyance. "Phoenix, you're a regular cross-examiner." he sighed. "Because I need the money."

"Money?"

"Yes. There is a regular salary. Didn't Gault tell you that?"

"No." I answered truthfully. In the back of my head, I wondered how much he was going to pay us. I remembered the lavish meals and lodging and felt my head swell a little bit. I set aside thoughts of payment for the moment and asked, "Why do you need the money?"

He was silent for a moment before he answered, "My sister."

I fell quiet and decided not to pursue the issue further, but he continued of his own accord. "When I was little, about six or seven, our family went on a vacation in Ossyria. However…" I saw his throat clench. "There was an accident, and my parents were killed and my older sister was injured. Nevertheless, she took care of me throughout my childhood, and I promised myself that someday, I'd help her recover…" His voice trailed off.

"What happened?" I managed to speak.

He stared shortly at me. "Avalanche."

"Oh." I sighed. "I…I'm sorry." I laid my hand on his shoulder again. "My parents are gone, too. Mother died in childbirth with my younger brother, and Dad went off on an errand a few years ago and never came back." I tried to smile. "Don't feel too bad. I'm sure your sister will get better soon."

He managed to smile as well, the corners of his lips lifting ever so slightly. "Thank you, Phoenix."

"Doing a little bonding, Rysdale?" Arklanser called from the couch. I saw Tales' face harden for a bit, but the tension was lifted when the front door opened and Gault poked his head in.

"I got everything settled." He flashed us all a thumbs-up. "You can all go outside and meet your recruits now." Immediately, Tales walked away with the rest of the captains without a backwards glance at me, and I followed them outside.

-----

"AHHHHH!!!"

The scream penetrated through every cubic inch of air in Perion. Every young warrior, training for their second job advancement, heard it. Every fighter, page, and spearman, dueling each other furiously, training without stopping, heard it. Even the third-classers, the crusaders, white knights, and dragon knights, meditating on the tall, dry mountains of Perion, heard it.

"What the-" Dariel Marron raised an eyebrow and his Lion's Fang in annoyance. "Sounds like someone's getting eaten out there."

"So it would seem." Keiga Seles sheathed his awkwardly large Fairfrozen in the special spear-holder on his back. "We should go investigate."

"Why bother?" Marron slashed aside a copper drake that he had been training on. "Whoever it is probably deserves it."

Seles glanced at his pupil. He was gifted in both the physical and mental department, which was a rare talent for a warrior, but he was always very stubborn and never cared for others, something he'd been trying to ameliorate for a year.

"Marron!" he barked angrily, causing the younger student to jump. "If you want to become a Crusader, you must always remember the motto of the warriors: It is our duty to protect the weak and fight the strong. This is one of those times when we have to protect the weak. Now get up before I make you do a hundred push-ups!"

"All right, all right, Master." Marron said, kicking aside the dead drake and sheathing his Lion's Fang. "Let's go."

A second scream pierced the atmosphere, and Seles and Marron ran to the source of the noise. Although the scream was clear, both warriors had not reached the source of it even after running all the way to the border of the forest of Ellinia. Finally, Marron stopped to rest, panting. "Do you think we've been following in the wrong direction, Master?"

"No, Marron. When I hear something firsthand, I believe it." Seles brushed aside some of his hair and gestured. "Keep going. Perhaps our victim may be in the forest."

However, both warriors did not have to run for more than a few seconds before the source of the scream was discovered. A young magician leaped out of the forest, covered with angry, biting monkeys.

"AHH! GET THESE THINGS OFF OF ME!" he screamed, trying to brush the Lupins away, but all they did was bite and scratch him more. Marron raised an eyebrow; warriors and magicians loathed each other on principle. However, under the strict eye of Seles, he decided now was not the opportune time for hatred. He unsheathed his Lion's Fang and roared, "Slash Blast!"

The attack struck true, and the magician finally was able to get some quick peace. Before he could get the opportunity to thank the warriors, though, another stream of Lupins overran all three, angrily biting, clawing and screeching. Marron swore as a Lupin caught him by surprise around the shoulder and he furiously punched it off of him; the magician shrieked, flailing his arms to protect himself from the crazy animals. Only Seles retained his sense of calm as the monkeys swarmed around him. Sighing in light annoyance, he unsheathed his Fairfrozen and twirled it. "Dragon Roar!"

Seles' attack pulsed through the air, leveling several of the trees in the forest and striking every monkey within a wide radius, throwing them high into the air and scattering corpses everywhere. Those still alive did not dare return for more, screeching as they turned tail and ran back into the heart of the forest.

"Whew. Glad that's over." Seles sighed. He resheathed his Fairfrozen. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah." The magician, a cleric, got up and smoothed out his hair. "Crazy monkeys…Never taking that shortcut as long as I live again."

"Sure." Marron eyed the cleric. "What's your name?"

"Ascion Blade. Yours?"

"Dariel Marron, and this is my teacher Master Seles." Seles gave a nod. "What were you going through the Monkey Forest for?"

"Need to get to Perion and meet someone." Ascion panted.

"Who?"

"Axe-fighter, named Ark Wolfen. Any of you know him?"

Marron shrugged, but Seles gave a look of recognition. "Ah, yes, I know him. He's one of my students."

"Really? That's great!" Ascion's face brightened. "You know where he is?"

"Yeah, sure. It's no trouble." Seles motioned for the cleric to follow. "You need any healing?"

"Nah, it's okay, I've got it." Ascion said, healing his wounds with his magic.

-----

Ark Wolfen sat silently at a table in his stone house in Perion, threading his fingers through his hair and fingering the haft of his Rising axe. Ever since he'd lived with his two younger brothers, Zeraion Phoenix and Ascion Blade, he hadn't had much time to train, being an authority figure to his siblings, but now that little Ascion was safely in the hands of Zeraion, he could rest easy. Sending Ascion to Zeraion was not an easy decision, but after some deliberation, he realized he couldn't be effective as a father figure if he simply languished while they trained. He had to stay strong.

There was a knock on the door. Ark called listlessly, "Who is it?"

"It's Ascion." came the reply. Ark immediately lightened up. "Come in."

"Hey, bro." Ascion plopped himself into a chair. "Nice place."

"Thanks."

"You might want to do a little monkey extermination every now and then, though." he sighed, stroking his temples a little.

"What do you mean by-" Ark started to say, but Ascion cut him off. "Never mind."

"So…" Ark finally managed to say. "What are you doing here? I thought Zer was taking care of you in Ellinia."

"I was." Ascion said bluntly. "Until he sent me this." He took a scroll from his pocket and handed it to Ark, who read it wordlessly.

_Ascion, I won't be able to take care of you for a while. Something came up. Stay with Ark in Perion for a while. I'll try to be back soon. I promise._

_Zer_

"So." Ark said. He folded the note and set it aside. "What do you suppose our dear brother is up to?"

"I dunno, Ark." Ascion shrugged. "Maybe, like you, he found someone willing to train him."

"Yes, perhaps." Ark said, seeming lost in thought. Finally he said, "Oh well. Zer's fifteen now and he can take care of himself. I only hope he pays us a visit every now and then." He straightened up. "Come on, Ascion. I think I've got a spare bed somewhere."

-----

Blinking in the bright sunshine, I steadied myself, thinking that perhaps this could all be a dream.

It wasn't. Following Gault's directions, I met my "recruits," so to speak. Unlike the rest of the captains, Gardner, Arklanser, Igzarion, Arundale, and Tales, I found that I had been put in charge of…well, the bottom of the pack. While everyone else was marshaling up large groups of around fifteen or twenty rangers, snipers, and high-leveled second classers a couple of levels away from reaching the third class, I was faced with a handful of five giggling kids, clutching bows and crossbows. They were all mostly low-leveled hunters, with the exception of one crossbowman.

"All right." I cracked my knuckles. Since Gault had not given me a list of names, I assumed I would have to be the first to break the ice. "Um…Just give me all your names."

Their names, in order from oldest and most experienced to youngest and least experienced, were Triton, Kalen, Sophia, Sephan, and Erlanger. Triton was the oldest, about fourteen, only a year younger than I was, and was level 45. Kalen was the crossbowman, slightly younger than Triton and was level 42. Sophia was a slightly arrogant huntress; she was level 39. Sephan was indifferent; he seemed as though he could have been anywhere else. He was level 36. And then there was Erlanger, who was obviously the youngest and the shyest. He was level 32.

Confronted with this group of motley kids, I could think of nothing else to do except say, "Uh…nice to meet you guys." They simply said little or nothing in greeting, and I glanced over at Gault. He flashed a sarcastic smile and mouthed, "Take them for a run in the back."

I mouthed back, "Easy for you to say," then turned back to them. "Um…what do you all say we go for a run?" I headed off to the back of Gault's mansion, the group of kids following behind.

The archery grounds were huge. Even I stared in amazement as I took in the large sight. There were no less than six different archery strips, each of varying distance; several high poles with platforms; I supposed those were to hone sniping skills. There were also obstacle courses and running tracks. It was like a bowman's heaven.

I walked over to one of the running tracks and gave it a once-over; it seemed about a quarter of a mile long. Athena had always made me run fifty laps around a track about a hundred feet long; doing the math quickly in my head, I supposed doing a mile around wouldn't be difficult for them. I held up four fingers to signify four laps, then took off, my gown flapping in the wind.

After running one lap, I glanced behind my shoulder to see how everyone else was doing. Only Triton and Kalen had managed to keep up, somewhat; the rest were straggling around the track. Erlanger had barely finished half a lap. I glanced up and saw Traphes Igzarion, the dark, sullen ranger from before, throw me an arrogant glance, then marched off towards the full-mile track. Snarling, I rushed on, determined to complete a full four laps.

When I finally finished, brushing sweat off my forehead, I sat down on the grass around the track and watched the rest of my group continue to run. Triton, Kalen, and Sophia finished without incident, though panting heavily; Sephan and Erlanger were only on their third lap before I called them to take a break.

"So, er…" I sighed. "We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Zeraion Phoenix."

Triton raised an eyebrow. "Are we supposed to call you Captain Phoenix or something?"

"Well, no, you don't have to if you don't want to." I said, biting the tip of my tongue. "But I would prefer if you did."

Kalen scoffed. "What level are you, Captain Phoenix?" He said the last two words with a kind of dry air that hurt my pride.

I growled. "Fifty."

"Wow, that's only five higher than me." Triton fingered the string of his Vaulter 2000 in light annoyance. "You sure you're not supposed to be a captain by accident? Everyone else is a really high-leveled ranger…"

I sighed, raking my sweaty hair out of my face. Obviously, establishing my authority was going to take a while. I glanced at my sleeves and wondered if I should show them my arms, but I thought better of it, only deciding to use that as a last resort. I sighed. "That's none of your business. Why are you all here in the first place anyway?"

Triton sighed. "For the same reason as everyone else, I guess." He sighed. "Gault told us all that the archers were overpowered and that if we wanted to be the best of the best in Bera, we should go to his house, where we'd get the best training available." He looked at me. "Though I guess he was probably stretching the truth on some counts." Kalen and Sophia snickered.

I felt a vein in my forehead bulge. "Well, be that as it may, I'm your captain now, and if you don't like it, you can leave and let the other three classes run over you." This caused him to fall silent.

"Now." I got up and motioned for the others to follow. "I want to see how far you guys can fire." I walked over to the nearby archery range, 750 feet long. A series of targets were already lined up at the far end of the range and I gestured to them. "Come on, shoot."

Erlanger was the first to go, and he was so nervous that the bowstring of his Ryden snapped. Behind him, I heard everyone else snicker, and I sighed. "Here, Erlanger. You can't bend a bow if you're as tense as a rock. Loosen up a bit." I patted him on the back encouragingly and restrung his bow. He nodded, red-faced, and shot his arrow about 400 feet down the range. I nodded; it was an excellent shot for someone his level. I then gestured to the rest of them. "Come on, I haven't got all day."

Sephan's Red Viper shot the arrow about 450 feet, and so did Sophia's. Next, Kalen went up and his arrow flew about 550 feet. Triton was the last to go, his experienced eyes scanning the range. He drew back the string of his Vaulter 2000 and pulled, then released. His arrow went the farthest, about 600 feet.

"Not bad, guys." I nodded, drawing my Olympus out of my quiver. "Now, you all did very well, but you need to improve your strength and your stability in shooting. Like this…" I drew an arrow from my quiver, an alien feeling since I was mostly used to Soul Arrow, and set it to my Olympus. I pulled back the string, closing my eyes, then released the arrow. It flew the whole distance across the range and struck a target right in the center. I smiled.

"There." I reinserted the Olympus back into its quiver. "Now all of you try again and see if you can't get a bit more distance on that."

Before anyone could answer my challenge, I heard someone roar "Inferno!" A bolt of flame flew from the sky and struck the targets at the end of the range, burning them to cinders. My head whipped around and I saw Igzarion, the ranger from below, his Marine Arund drawn. Behind him, there were a large group of level 60-80 people snickering.

"You testing them on that baby range, Phoenix?" Igzarion called. His voice had a slight accent. "You know, there is a range twice as long, 1500 feet, down there…" He pointed. "But I don't think it's short enough for those wussies you're training." A few people behind him laughed. "Heck, you could measure those kids' shots with a ruler." More laughs.

I felt my hands clench into fists. "Shut up."

"What are you gonna do about it, Phoenix?" I heard Igzarion taunt.

"You heard Captain Phoenix. Leave us alone." It was Erlanger's voice.

"Aw, it's trying to communicate." He made a face. "Let's see how well you do with this. Strafe!"

Four arrows shot from his bow faster than I could see and buried themselves in the ground, uncomfortably close to my feet. I growled and heard Igzarion taunt, "Next one's gonna get you!"

"What part of "shut up" don't you understand…" I paused for effect. "…Iggy?"

I heard a snicker from the five behind me and could see a vein in Igzarion's forehead bulge. "Don't presume to order me around, Phoenix. You don't even belong here. You should be in the hunting grounds training with the snails." More laughter.

"Piss off." I snarled. It was the wrong thing to say to a level 88 ranger about to shoot my guts out, but I said it anyway, and there was a mock cry of fear from the crowd. Igzarion's face turned even paler.

"That's it, Phoenix. You're dead." He raised his bow again. "Inferno!"

I saw the bolt of fire coming at me, but I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. Before I prepared myself for my last painful moments on earth, I heard a cry of "Blizzard!"

Massive ice floes ripped from the ground and rose up in front of me, effectively shielding me and my party from the flames. The flame hit the ice with a loud hiss, blanketing the field with tons of steam. When it cleared, I turned and saw Rysdale Tales, the sniper from before, angrily glaring at Igzarion with his Gross Jaeger in hand.

"Leave the kid alone, Iggy." he snarled. For some reason, though, Igzarion had the gall to say, "Get the hell out of here, Tales. This isn't your problem."

"It is now." His eyes narrowed dangerously underneath those steel spectacles.

But I had had enough. I wasn't going to sit around here and let that jackass of a ranger boss me around, no way, no how. Ignoring all pretense, I whipped out my Olympus and roared, "Soul Arrow…Arrow Blow!"

The shot zipped through the air, exactly where Igzarion would have been a split second ago if not for his quick reaction. I heard him taunt, "Is that all you got, using your kiddy moves like that?" However, I had expected it.

"FINAL ATTACK!" I roared, not caring about anything except the massive burst of energy from my bow and soaring straight toward Igzarion. His eyes widened in panic and he managed to blurt out, "Inferno!" The blast of fire met my attack head-on, but it wasn't enough. My arrow exploded with such force that Igzarion was thrown off his feet and crashed backwards into a group of hunters standing nearby.

Igzarion managed to stand up, brushing ash off his robe. His eyes narrowed dangerously at me. "We will meet again, Phoenix." With that, he turned away, his group following after. I glared at his back. "What a jerk." I muttered, re-sheathing my Olympus. I turned to see Trition, Kalen, Sophia, Sephan, and Erlanger staring at me open-mouthed.

"Holy…" Triton said, stunned with disbelief. Erlanger looked as though his eyes would explode out of his head at any time. "How did you do that…Captain Phoenix?" Even Tales was left speechless, but he managed to regain his composure. "Nice trick, Phoenix." he muttered before walking off the field.

"Wait!" I called after him. He turned to face me. "Thanks for your help back there."

"It was nothing." He shrugged, then walked off the field. I watched him as he left.

-----

That night, dinner was a reasonably quiet affair. About half the people seated in the massive dining hall were eating silently, humbled by my technique that afternoon. The other half, mostly female, probably under Arklanser and Arundale and thus hadn't seen the shot, still chatted noisily.

I took my usual seat next to Tales, and he did not breach the subject of what had happened this afternoon. Igzarion, as usual, did not speak, although every now and then he shot me a dirty look. I returned his glares with equal satisfaction.

Finally, Gault clinked his spoon against a glass. "What is it with you people? This isn't a prison camp…Surely something interesting must have happened for you guys to talk about!" He smiled amicably.

"Nothing much, Isentryx." Arklanser shrugged her shoulders. "Unless you count all of my girls trying to think of ways to seduce you and Iggy."

"Yeah, mine too." Arundale shrugged listlessly. "Everyone seems to have their mind more on hormones than archery these days."

Gardner chuckled. Igzarion, Tales, and I remained stony-faced, still unwilling to talk. Unfortunately, our silence caught the attention of Gault, who said, "Anything happen today, Iggy?"

Igzarion muttered a note of assent before becoming extremely interested in his potatoes, and Tales said, "Nothing much, Gault."

"Really?" He said with some interest. Finally (as I had feared) he turned to me. "Well, Phoenix, how about you?"

I managed to glance up and saw Igzarion shooting a 'tell and you die' look at me. My face turning slightly pale, I muttered, "Eh, not bad. I showed the kids around and they had fun, and Igzarion and I had a small argument, but it was nothing-"

"Iggy blasted Phoenix." Tales said shortly. Everyone turned to look at him.

"What?" Gault said, his tone a bit sterner.

"It was nothing." both Igzarion and I muttered, but Tales continued. "Iggy started making fun of Phoenix and he tried to burn him up, but I came onto the scene and used Blizzard-" he shrugged and took a mouthful of rice, then continued. "-and then Phoenix used something called Final Attack and blew Iggy away." He chuckled a little under his breath as he said this.

"Final Attack?" Gardner, Arklanser and Arundale raised their eyebrows in amazement. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean Phoenix took out his Olympus, screamed "Final Attack" and blew Iggy ten feet into the air." Tales said, laying down his fork and knife with a satisfied air. I turned a little pink and shoved a large bite of salmon into my mouth.

"Is this true, Traphes?" Gault glanced at Igzarion with a dry stare. Igzarion's face went the color of badly mixed raisin ice cream.

"Kind of." he said, staring down into his plate. I heard Arundale say, "Iggy, why'd you have to pick on the little one?" Both Igzarion and I turned pink, and I heard Igzarion mutter, "Natalia, I hate when you call me Iggy."

"Well," Gault said, breaking the awkward silence that followed, "internal discord is the last thing I want in this. Traphes, see to it that this doesn't happen again."

"Yes, Isentryx." Igzarion said listlessly, getting up and trudging away from the table. I heard Arklanser whisper to Arundale, "Oh my god…Final Attack?"

I stared down into my plate, my appetite gone, and I excused myself quickly, going back into my room to rest.

-----

There was a knock on the room of my door. Too listless to care who it was, I raised my head an inch off my desk and called, "Who is it?"

"It's Tales." came the reply. I sighed. "Come in."

The sniper entered, casting a quick glance around my room as he came in. "Hey."

"Hey." I responded. Tales eased himself into a nearby chair and said, "So, what are you planning to do over the weekend tomorrow?"

"Weekend? Tomorrow?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah." He stared at me. "Everyone gets Saturday and Sunday off. It's Friday." He relaxed again in the chair. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Er, I don't know." I said truthfully. I had not given any thought whatsoever to a vacation. "Um, I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe see a few friends." My heart twinged as I thought of Grace.

"Ah, really?" He nodded. "I'm going off to Ossyria for a bit."

"Really, what for?"

He tensed up. "I have to go see my sis. And my parents." His voice trailed off.

"Oh…right." I let myself fall limply onto the desk again. "Yeah."

"Well…" He brightened up. "Don't let Iggy frighten you. He's just an air-head. Anyway, I don't think he'll give you much trouble after you blasted him away."

"Yeah."

"You study Final Attack?" He asked with some interest.

"Yeah." I yawned, feeling myself grow tired. "Well, I think I'll call it a day. Good night."

"Alright." He nodded, then got up. "Well, I have to leave now. Good night." He left, closing the door behind him.

In that frame of time, I knew my life would only get tougher on from here, but I was truly grateful to have a friend.

-----

Meanwhile, while Zeraion Phoenix slept, the rest of the captains of The Uprising (for that was Gault's name for this band of renegade bowmen) were talking in the living room of Gault's mansion. All were chatting quickly and all fell silent for a moment when Tales entered the room.

"Where's Phoenix?" Gault asked.

"He went to sleep early. I don't see the need in troubling him." Tales shrugged, then took a seat.

"So be it." Gault took a deck of cards out of his pocket. "Might as well have some entertainment while we chat." He dealt out the cards neatly, five to each person. "So, what do you guys think?"

"I don't think we should do it." Arundale said flatly, her eyes barely glancing at her cards. "It seems so stupid. I thought the whole point of this was to just train bowmen to become stronger, not to start a war."

"Yeah." Tales said, taking a quick look at his cards. "We don't need any more bloodshed than there is in the world already." He threw two cards on the table. "Two, please."

Gault dealt out the cards and scowled. "Listen, guys, you are taking this too seriously. I'm not saying that we should go out and burn all of Bera. Just a little civil disobedience is what I'm talking about."

"Civil disobedience?" Arundale sighed. "Pillaging villages is not civil disobedience." She sighed again, throwing down her cards. "I fold."

"Natalia has a point, Gault." Arklanser said darkly. "You can't just tell these kids to go out and start blowing down houses. It's not right." She set down three cards. "Three, please."

Gault sourly dealt out the cards, and Gardner cut in. "I think what Gault's trying to say is that we should be assertive. He is right in that we've lost a lot of territory ever since the power of the third classes was discovered years ago. And it's also not false that the warriors, mages, and thieves haven't exactly been kind about it." Catching the look on his companions' faces, he added, "And don't bother. Straight flush." With a snide grin, he threw his cards on the table.

Igzarion and Tales both swore, throwing their cards down as well. Only Arklanser sighed as she muttered, "Stupid Y chromosomes."

"Well," Gault said, collecting the cards and passing the deck to Gardner for a second hand, "it doesn't matter. What Gardner said is definitely true, and anyway, I was bullied by a mage yesterday while training." He smirked. "I think they'll get their just desserts soon enough."

This odd choice of words did not soothe the other captains, nor did Gardner's triumphant revelation of a four-of-a-kind.

-----

I woke up, the sunlight streaming through the elegantly carved window. Swearing slightly as the sunlight pierced my not-yet-awake eyes, I rolled off the edge of the bed and hit the ground with a painful thud. Then I remembered it was Saturday, and we had off today.

I dressed myself, then went downstairs for breakfast. However, I ate nothing except a piece of toast, as I wasn't really hungry, then excused myself. As I left, though, I found Triton, Kalen, Sophia, Sephan, and Erlanger waiting for me at the door.

"Captain Phoenix." Triton said. "Where are you going?"

"To meet a few friends." I said, pulling my hat over my head. "It's Saturday. You guys should be having fun, anyway."

"Nah. We're going to train." Kalen said, hitching his Silver Crow over his shoulder. "We want to be strong. Like you."

"Yeah." Erlanger smiled. "We wanna use Final Attack."

"No!" I yelled. They all were surprised by my outburst. "Huh?"

"Um…" I bit my lip. I didn't want them to suffer from the same torture I did, and I was hoping that I wouldn't have had to do this, but there was no choice. I drew back the sleeves of my gown, earning gasps of horror and disgust from the kids. I kept staring at the ground as I left them to see my scarred limbs.

Finally, I stood up and drew my sleeves back over my arms. "Listen to me. Final Attack is not something you can take lightly. Master your other techniques, and you will do well. Don't take my path just because you saw me showing off for a second." My words reminded me of Athena's words, four years ago.

Finally, Triton lowered his head. "Yes, Captain Phoenix." The others nodded dumbly, and I sighed. "Thank you. I hope you will not obstruct the path any further; the time goes by fast." Erlanger and Sephan stepped aside, allowing me to descend the steps of Gault's mansion. I heard Sophia whisper in horror, "Did you see his arms? My god…" I sighed. I hoped that my scars would convince them not to take my path.

I left Henesys and called a taxi to Perion. Once again, I was standing in the land of the drakes, but now was not the time for training. I had a couple of people I wanted to see.

I brushed some hair aside and walked slowly through Perion, the dry earth cracking under my feet. The sun beat fiercely down and I had to pull my cap down over my forehead to escape its heat. However, this limited my visibility and I nearly ended up walking into a wall (much to the amusement of some nearby warriors) but I finally managed to get my bearings and locate the house I was looking for.

I knocked, three times. There was a call of "Who is it?"

"Phoenix." I responded. Immediately, the door flew open, smacking me in the face, and I fell to the hard earth. The last thing I heard was a distant "Big bro, great to see you! Hey, why are you on the ground?" before I blacked out.

-----

Triton stood, poised at the far end of the archery range with his Vaulter 2000 in hand. He aimed carefully, nocking an arrow to his bow, and released. "Arrow Blow!" he bellowed.

The arrow shone bright blue in the sunlight and flew through the air before it exploded with a bang, burning a hole in the center of the target at the far end of the range. He smiled, pleased with himself. "You next, Kalen."

The crossbowman gave a grunt of assent and got up from the grassy lawn, his Silver Crow in hand as he loaded a bolt into it, aimed and fired. It was a close shot, but he managed to hit the target squarely. He sighed. "I need to work on that." He glanced at the rest of his comrades, doing exercises on the grass. "You next, Sophia."

The huntress pouted. "Kalen, you know that I can't shoot that far."

"Fine, fine. Stop whining. We'll never get anywhere like this." Nevertheless, Kalen ran across the strip and pushed the heavy targets about 100 feet closer. "Satisfied?" he panted.

"Yes, very." She flipped a strand of her almond-colored hair from her face. "Except, I just changed my mind. I want a challenge."

"What?!" A vein twitched in the poor crossbowman's forehead.

She giggled. "Just teasing you, sweetie." Kalen flopped down onto the ground, muttering something about how crazy girls were. Behind him, Sephan and Erlanger were doing sit-ups and push-ups, sweat flowing from their hair.

"Okay, guys, I think you can stop now." Triton said dryly, who had assumed charge of the group in Phoenix's absence. "It's not going to do any good if you kill yourself training…"

"You saw how that jackass teased Captain Phoenix." Sephan spat. "We're not helping his reputation as we are right now. We have to train as a team."

"Yeah." Erlanger said, brushing more sweat off his forehead.

Triton rolled his eyes at the pair. "Well, you get my point. Don't commit suicide." He was interrupted by a shout of "Yay, I hit it again!" from Sophia. Both Triton and Kalen rolled their eyes again.

-----

"Ark, I think I killed him…"

"No one ever died from getting hit by a door, Ascion."

"Yeah, but he's been out for a while…"

"Both of you, shut up. I'm not dead, and I'm fine, aside from a huge pain on my head. Now where the hell am I?"

I got up, a throbbing pain in my head, and looked around. I was lying on a comfortable bed, with blankets pulled over me. Both Ark and Ascion were hovering above me, sighing with relief when they saw me move.

"Great job, Ass Blade." Ark said dryly, slapping Ascion on the back of the head. "At least you didn't murder him." I let out a snort of unrestrained laughter as I heard Ark use his pet name for our younger brother, and Ascion scowled.

"Shut up." he said, glaring at Ark. "So, Zer…er, I'm really sorry for slamming a door into your face." He giggled sheepishly.

"Whatever." I sighed, rubbing my sore forehead. "I would've liked to meet you guys under happier circumstances, but getting beaned in the schnozz by a door isn't all that bad, either." I cracked my knuckles. "So, how are you guys doing?"

"Wonderful." Ark sighed, flexing a muscle. "Hit level 50 today, Ass here got 40-"

"I told you to stop calling me that…Wolfie." Ascion smirked, and I saw Ark scowl. I couldn't help myself, and I laughed again. Typical sibling rivalry…even though Ark was seventeen, Ascion was thirteen, and I was fifteen, we still acted like kids so much.

"So…" Ark finally managed to regain his composure, after giving Ascion another thwack upside the head. "Why'd you send Ascion here?"

"Something came up." I said darkly. And I told them about Gault and my new position at his house, but I left out my suspicions about his plans. I didn't need my brothers to worry about me at a time like this. After I had finished telling my tale, both Ark and Ascion looked at me in wonder.

"Well, Zer…" He sighed. "You thinking about being a ranger yet?"

"Um, well not really." I said. In truth, I really had not given any thought to the impending issue of my third class, but now that Ark had breached the subject, I did give some thought to the matter. _Twenty more levels…What is that, about two more years? Oh well. Hopefully Final Attack will be enough to cover all that._

"Yeah." I sighed. "Maybe in a couple of years."

"Same here." Ark fingered the edge of a large golden axe on his lap. "Master Seles is the biggest airhead I've ever seen-" Ascion snorted in laughter- "-and it doesn't help that he's a Level 100+ Dragon Knight to top that all off, but for some reason, he's an expert at training Crusaders. Got four under his belt already." He sighed. "What about you, As-" he caught himself. '-cion?"

Ascion shot a steely glare at Ark before saying, "Master Grendel isn't exactly the kindest of teachers…" He took a glance at his palms. "But it'll be worth it. He says I'm the fastest student he's ever had in his lifetime…and that's really long." He smiled in self-satisfaction before continuing on. "And he says I'll be a priest in no time, maybe in a couple of years. He said he'll write me a recommendation."

"Is that just because he wants to get rid of you as soon as possible?" laughed Ark. Ascion immediately punched him, but he made no effort to dodge it; the cleric's weak melee attack had no effect on his sun and battle-toughened skin. Still chuckling under his breath, Ark turned to me. "You, Zer?"

"Well…" I considered. "I've been training with Athena for the last year, and it's been hell…" I drew back my sleeves, earning a groan of disgust from both of my siblings. "But it's worth it. With Gault's training, I should be a Ranger in a brace of years."

"So." Ark said, glancing out the window. "We'll all achieve the legendary third class in two years…"

"Yes, I hope." Ascion said, caressing his palm.

"Well, I hope to see you guys at my graduation." I snickered. Both Ark and Ascion looked at me.

"Yeah." Ark said, his stare growing serious. "We'll meet at Henesys, all of us, in two years' time, where we were growing up when we were kids."

"Yes." Ascion said, his eyes growing bright. "And we'll all have achieved our third classes. Crusader, ranger and priest…"

"Agreed." I held my hand out, and I felt both my brothers' hands squeeze mine.

"In two years." we all said, in that dry and musty Perion room. It was a nice bit of brotherly love on the spur of the moment, I think, and it was a rather uncomfortable one, all three of us falling silent soon after this impromptu vow.

Finally, Ascion touched a finger to my forehead. "You look fine, Zer." he said. "Sorry for banging that door into your head."

"It's no problem, Ascion." I sighed, getting up. Ascion muttered "Heal" one last time to alleviate the pain in my head, then stepped aside as I got up, dressed myself, and went off to the Dangerous Valley to train.

-----

"You sure you guys aren't going?" Gault said, exasperatedly.

"I'm not going to take any part in this, Gault." Arklanser said dryly, summoning flames with a flick of her fingers.

"Neither will I." Arundale said in the same tone, flexing her Hinkel. Both Igzarion and Tales made grunts of dissent as well.

"Oh…fine. Well, you're missing out on a lot. Gardner, what about you?" He turned to the older ranger.

Gardner sighed. "I'm with you, Gault, but I think we should put it off for a while. Now really isn't a good time for it."

Gault rounded on him. "Why not?"

"Because morale isn't exactly high right now." Gardner nodded at his colleagues. "Not to mention that the kids aren't used to life here for a while. Give it some time, maybe a week or two." He spoke with an analytical air that showed he'd clearly been thinking the matter over.

Gault sighed. "Whatever floats your boat, Rathias." He slumped into a chair. "Any of you want to play some cards?"

"Not at the moment." Arklanser said, prompting Gault and Gardner to leave the room. Arundale sighed as they left.

"Really, the nerve." She sighed, plucking her bowstring one more time before slipping it into her quiver. "Who does he think he is, leading a bunch of people into Ellinia? I wouldn't be surprised if they rioted and burned the whole place down."

"Good sentiments, Natalia." Tales said dryly. Like Arklanser, he too was practicing his elemental abilities, summoning shards of ice from the air with his nimble fingers. "I don't trust Isentryx. He sounds a lot sinister than he wants us to believe."

"Yes. Do you notice how his eyes sometimes flash when he talks? Creepy, if you ask me." Arklanser flicked her wrist carelessly and accidentally lit a nearby potted plant on fire. "Sh-"

"Don't worry, I've got it." Tales said, extinguishing the small conflagration with a quick snap of his fingers; the smell of burnt plant and steam lingered in the air. "I hope Gault isn't too fond of primroses." he noted sardonically, as the plant continued to smolder.

"He does seem to be prone to displays of emotion whenever we talk about the power of the bowmen." Igzarion said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, and I'd give a Balrog's fortune to find out what his guise behind all this is." Arundale said, wrinkling her nose.

There was an uncomfortable silence among the captains, broken only by Igzarion's mention of "Where's Phoenix?"

Tales shot him a dirty look before responding, "He's in Perion. Said he needed to see a few friends. Which reminds me, I should probably be leaving for Nath any time now." He slid his Gross Jaeger into his oddly-shaped crossbow quiver before exiting the room, leaving Arklanser, Arundale, and Igzarion to ponder Gault's true motives.

-----

Author's Note: Yeah…kinda pointless chapter, but I promise you the next chapter will have some action! And remember that reviews make me happy. Seriously, they do. Although it's a bit much to ask, I would like it if you could press that little blue button in the corner and leave a nice, legible, thoughtful comment. It really helps the updating along; trust me. (Wink)


	5. Death of an Angel

**Chapter 5**

-----

I sighed balefully as I climbed the familiar steps of Gault's mansion. I had been training in the Dangerous Valley all day and it was sunset. I had gained a well-deserved level, but I had seen neither Joe nor Grace, two people whom I really needed some companionship from. I sighed again. Oh well, at least there was still Tales and the kids.

When I entered, there was a sense of depression among the three remaining captains, Arklanser, Arundale, and Igzarion. Ignoring him, I turned to the two women listlessly. "When is Tales getting back?"

"Day after tomorrow. He asked Gault for an extra day's leave on account of…" Arklanser raised her eyebrow. "You do know what happened to his parents, right?"

"Yes." I nodded shortly.

"Well, there's your answer. He also has to take care of his sister." She shot a dark glance at Arundale, who returned it, and I could sense that they were hiding something from me.

Seeing as how I was not going to get any more information from them, I asked, "Where's Gault?"

"He's with Gardner. Killing squids in the Aqua Road dungeons to pass the time until-" She cut herself off.

"Until what?"

"It's nothing you need to know about, Phoenix." The flame-haired rangeress turned away from me.

"Listen," I said, slightly brusquely, "I'm a captain of The Uprising, just as much as you are, and I have a right to know what's going on in this place around here."

Both Arundale and Igzarion raised their eyebrows in light surprise at my assertiveness. Instead of being offended, though, Arklanser merely looked amused. "Phoenix, you're a tough one." Abruptly, she flicked her fingers right in my face, creating a small plume of flame. I had expected it, though, and made no reaction except a blink.

"Heh, if you really must know…" She lowered her voice. "Gault's going mental, if you will."

"Yeah, I think I know that already." I said dryly. "What exactly is he planning?"

"Hey, I don't know anything more about it than you do." she said, shrugging. "Gault keeps his plans to himself. All we know is that he referred to it as "civil disobedience." Which is only reason for us all to be suspicious."

"It's…peaceful, right?" I asked gingerly, dreading the answer.

She sighed. "It's anything but. I thought this was an accelerated archer training program, not an army."

"Well," Igzarion said, in the same dark tone that we all had, "as much as we may dislike it, we are becoming what we fear most." He sighed. "These uniforms, these ranks…even these halls…I feel like I'm in the military department of some country."

"Iggy, you said something intelligent for once." Arundale said dryly. Igzarion turned pink, but it was obvious that Arundale was the only one who could call him "Iggy" without provocation.

Right now, I was debating whether to tell them my suspicions, but I wagered they would figure it out soon enough. The only issue currently on my mind was this "civil disobedience" thing he was planning, and I seriously doubted it would have any good effects. I wished Tales was here; he would have offered some decent advice. However, he wasn't, so I merely satisfied myself with ruffling my hair aimlessly.

"When exactly did he say this…thing would happen, do you think?" I asked.

"Well, originally, he wanted to do it today." Arundale said, tossing her light brown hair behind her neck. "But Gardner talked him out of it, thankfully…" She sighed. "It's going to happen a few months from now; that's all I know. Personally, I don't want it to happen at all, but there's little we can do about it."

"How long do you think it's going to take to be a ranger?" Igzarion asked me bluntly, breaking the silence. Without turning, I answered, "Two years, probably."

"I see." he nodded. Finally, he walked over and laid his hand on my shoulder. "Listen." he said in a low tone. "I apologize for the events of yesterday. I had not known the extent of your abilities and I thought you were here to spite us." He lowered his head sheepishly. "It seems I was mistaken."

"The kid knows Final Attack, Iggy. Cut him some slack." Arklanser said dryly.

"How was I supposed to know he possessed the gift of the bowmasters?" he snapped back.

"You could have paid attention when Gault held our first meeting the day before yesterday." Arundale retorted.

Igzarion scowled, but I laid a hand on his shoulder in response. "That's okay. I accept your apology."

"Aww, how sweet." both women cooed. Both of us turned slightly pink. To change the subject, I quickly said, "Does anyone here actually trust and believe Gault?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, followed by three quick murmurs of dissent.

So Gault had intended to select only the best for his plans, but he had made a fatal mistake; we all distrusted him, however distantly…

And I could only hope that would be his undoing. I took a glance at the clock on the wall; it was six and I could squeeze about three more hours of training in, with luck. I took quick leave of the others and went to Perion.

-----

"Power Strike! Final Attack!" 

The shouts of the young warrior blended with the night cries of the beasts near Perion. Ark Wolfen leapt into the air and with suprising speed and accuracy, cut two deep slashes in a nearby drake: it fell with a loud thud.

"Excellent, Wolfen." Keiga Seles nodded at his young protégé. "You will be an excellent Crusader someday."

"Thank you, Master." Ark nodded. The Perion sunset was always beautiful and both warriors left their training for a moment to appreciate the golden-orange sphere sinking into the blue and purple sky.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Seles smiled ever so slightly. Ark bowed his head and gave a murmur of assent.

"Master Seles…Is it all right if I ask you a personal question?" Ark ventured to ask.

"Yes, go ahead." Seles nodded, not taking his eyes off the sun.

"You are a Dragon Knight, and yet you only train Crusaders…how is that possible?"

Seles sighed, his auburn hair rippling in the soft winds of the Perion evening. Ark could see that his teacher was considering how best to answer the question posed. Occasionally, Seles cast a dark glance at his left arm as he thought. Finally, he said, "It is not appropriate to have this discussion at present."

"I…I see." Part of Ark was willing to let the matter alone, but the other part of him was dying to find out just what exactly Seles' secret was.

"It is of little importance, anyway." Seles dismissed the matter lightly. "I suspect you will reach your seventieth level within a year and a half, if time permits."

"Excellent." Ark cracked his knuckles. "I thank you for your judgment."

"You're welcome." Seles smiled. "Now do a hundred push-ups. You need to work on those abs."

"Oh, son of a…"

-----

I suppose life would have been so much different for me, if it hadn't been for that forced conversation I'd had with Arklanser, Arundale and Igzarion that day. If I had never got wind of Gault's plans for a revolt, a riot, or even to use his term, "civil disobedience", maybe this all could have passed; maybe my life could have been so much better and could have saved so much pain.

Judge for yourself. It had been twelve months, twelve precious months since I'd first accepted a position as a captain in The Uprising. During that time, I'd gained ten levels; right on track with my schedule and only another ten more until my time as a Ranger had come. I was still teased by Igzarion every once in a while, but his jokes were somewhat human as opposed to cussing me off and trying to burn me to cinders. The kids in my group were doing great; everyone was in their 40's except Triton, who was actually level 50 now (and had given him somewhat of an ego, I was sorry to say). Nevertheless, life was pretty decent.

Ark was doing great, and Ascion as well; both were slightly lower-leveled than me but (as clearly expressed in their letters) working overtime to catch up. During this time I must admit, to be strictly fair, that Gault, despite our suspicions, was extremely kind. He gave us a paycheck of a cool mil a month, which, even after taxes, was still quite a sum, and I put the money away in a savings account, not knowing what to do with it at the moment.

Still, I could not rest my sense of uneasiness; Athena's words rested in my heart and my mind, and I was absolutely certain that Gault was certainly up to something; my conversation long ago had proved it.

"Double Shot…Final Attack."

I was training on the quarter-mile archery strip, 1320 feet long. My Olympus spat the intial bursts of arrows about 1000 feet down; the third shot flew straight, lanced the target squarely in the center, and exploded. Perfect. I sighed, looking over at my team on the shorter range, but at least none of them needed to move the targets forward, except for poor Erlanger, still lagging behind the rest of his group. Tales and Arundale had a slightly longer range, Iggy and Arklanser had the 1800-foot strip, and Gardner and Gault had control of the 2000-foot monster. Darkly, I grit my teeth and snapped my fingers; the mysterious built-in system conjured up another few targets for me to send to hell.

"Double Shot! Final Attack! Arrow Blow! Final Attack!"

I dashed down the strip a bit more flamboyantly than I should have; some of the girls from Arundale's side giggled. Smiling, I failed to notice Tales snapping his fingers, a snide look on his face, and I got whacked in the face by a target jutting up out of the ground. Stars winked in front of my eyes for a second; I got up, dazed.

"What the hell was that for?!" I roared angrily at him, a lump the size of an egg throbbing on my head. Both Tales and Arundale were doubled up with laughter; the former managed to shout "Sorry, Phoenix, wasn't looking" before losing himself in another wave of snickering.

I rubbed my sore head before returning to the front of the strip, grumbling. I couldn't blame him, though; none of us really trusted Gault, as was evident in our conversations, and it was the least we could to wring some dry humor out of the occasion.

-----

Lunch was a silent affair; us captains (excepting Gardner) had learned not to loosen our tongues in front of Gault; so whenever he pressed us, we merely replied with a simple "Nothing interesting". However, Tales took the opportunity to mention the episode with the target this afternoon; it was all I could do to stop myself from throwing my glass of faux kir at him. I was reasonably glad when lunch ended and I was allowed an optional break. I left Triton in charge of the group, then left for Henesys.

The wind greeted me with the soft scent of spring flowers as I walked through the familiar town of Henesys, so peaceful in its nature. I pushed open the familiar door of Athena's house and was nearly run over by a small mob of small kids, no doubt just having received their blessing and ready to purchase a War Bow. Chuckling slightly, I met Athena's eyes; she was just as beautiful, intelligent and strong-looking as when I had first met her five years ago. I had never really thought of her in this way before…stupid teenage hormones, I thought.

Athena glanced up at me. "Ah, Phoenix. It's good to see you again."

"Yes, and the same to you." I sighed, flexing my Olympus. "Where would you suggest going to look for an Asianic Bow? I'm getting slightly tired of this Olympus."

"Ah, so I presume you've reached the sixtieth level now?" Athena eyed me with new interest.

"Yes."

"You are sixteen, correct?"

"Yes, that is true as well."

"If you continue training at this rate, you should reach the seventieth level on your seventeenth year." She nodded. "It would be an impressive feat for a ranger; only one other person has reached the third class at such a young age."

"Who?" I asked, knowing full well who it was.

She gave me a knowing look. "I don't think you need me to tell you that, Phoenix." She glanced out the window for a bit before staring back at me; the gentle breeze ruffled her copper-colored hair. "Pertaining to your original question, I would suggest going to the Forest of Evil in Ellinia, where the cursed Maladies dwell. Be warned, they are not to be taken lightly."

"I'm not the kind of person to take lightly." I said dryly, drawing up my sleeve. Athena gave a kind of dry smile. "True." she said, looking me over for a bit. Finally, she nodded. "So be it, Phoenix. I hope to see you in the years to come."

"Yes…I hope to see you as well soon, Master." I took quick leave of her, then following her advice, caught the taxi to Ellinia.

-----

"So." Keiga Seles stared at his crusader-wanna-bes, three of them at the moment. Normally, he gave private lessons, but he decided now would be a good time for a little joint training. "You've all advanced very far in the short time that we've been given, and for that I'm proud." The three fighters all stared dryly at each other, loving Seles for his kindness and at the same time hating him for his vigor.

"Anyway, this isn't the first time I've decided to give a non-private lesson; but I think it should be some decent experience for you. Don't screw this up, please." He cast his eyes dryly over his three proteges; they returned the glance.

One of the eager fighters with raven-black hair and a serious face, the oldest at eighteen, was Ark Wolfen. Unlike his other two comrades, he was accustomed to the slow speed but heavy power of the axe. He carried his golden Rising axe over his shoulder, able to inflict heavy damage with it at a moment's notice. He was the most caring of the three, preferring not to hurt someone unless really necessary, but when he was focused there was no stopping him. He was level 58 and somewhat under-leveled for his age, but he was determined to make up for it in lost time.

The second was a blonde-haired teenager who carried his Lion's Fang sword in a sheath in his belt. His name was Dariel Marron and he was sixteen. He reminded Ark of his younger brother, Zeraion Phoenix, except that he was more well-built, had wilder hair, and a sassier attitude. What set him apart from the other two was that he tended to be stone and stubborn; he was very analytical but almost nothing could change his mind once he'd made it up about something. He was level 55.

Lastly, there was an eager fighter who was the youngest of all three; he carried a Traus in the small sheath in his belt, but he had the swiftest reaction time of all and could have dealt two or three strikes in the time it took his comrades to make one. He had disheveled hair the same color as Ark's and unlike his teammates, he preferred not to wear a helmet, wearing a bandana instead. He was the voice of reason and a good source of comic relief as well; however he also had the most determination and drive. His name was Ryden, and the other two made jokes about his name and how he ought to have been a hunter, but he took it in good humor. He was only level 47 at the moment, but this only steeled his determination to catch up to his companions.

"So, I know you've only met each other a couple of times so far, but I'm sure you'll be a great team." Seles smiled amicably, trying to lighten the mood. The warriors only shot glances at each other.

"Anyway…" He cleared his throat, then continued. "The monsters in the Dangerous Valley are finally starting to live up to their name; couple of people got mauled yesterday. Have you heard about it?"

"Yes, it was very sad." The sword fighter, Ryden sighed. "I hope they get better."

"I wouldn't count on it." Seles said dryly. "But in any case, this is a job for you guys. Mostly, you'll be knocking off copper drakes, but you might also have to deal with a few red drakes now and then. They're tough critters, but it's nothing you can't handle together. And then there are a couple of fire boars, which you should have absolutely no trouble with. I want to see how many you can kill in a day and night." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the Perion Dungeon. "Get moving."

"Yes, Master Seles." all three mumbled before setting off. Once they were out of earshot, Marron punched a fist into his gloved hand. "Seriously, fire drakes? I think Seles is knocked up in the head, if you ask me."

Ark shot Marron a quizzical look. "Dariel, get it through your head; three well-trained fighters are not going to get mauled by one drake."

"Yeah, we can handle it." Ryden said happily.

"Look who's talking." Marron said dryly. This immediately caused a small amount of argument, which was only stemmed when Ark drew his large axe.

After a short walk, the fighters reached the Dangerous Valley. True to Seles' word, the drakes certainly seemed more ferocious than last time; the place was nearly devoid of humans except for a few brave ice wizards.

"Let's go." Ark nodded, drawing his axe. Behind him, there was a sound of swords being drawn as Marron and Ryden drew their weapons too. A drake rushed at them but Ryden lashed out. "Power Strike!" he yelled, zipping at it and dealing a slash to its leg. It roared in pain and opened its jaws, but Marron's heavier blade whistled through the air and decapitated the beast with a quick strike. Satisfied, Marron cut off the ears and a section of the tail. "We'll need these as proof."

"True." Ark whipped around with unnatural speed, and struck down another drake with two quick strikes. Meanwhile, behind him, Marron and Ryden were stabbing furiously at the beasts, dodging and jumping as they cut them down. The fighters quickly regained control of a part of the valley, and the copper drakes retreated.

Unfortunately, the humans below attracted the attention of a couple of red drakes, who wandered into the territory below. Ryden was the first to see one, stomping over near them.

"Uh-oh." He shouted, "RED DRAKE!" Both Ark and Marron turned to look at him, but it wandered over with amazing speed and opened its jaws. It would have taken Ryden's arm off if not for his quick reaction; he bashed at it with his sword but the blade had little effect on its fire-hardened scales.

"Power Strike!" Marron roared, bringing the blade of his Lion's Fang down on the monster; it left a deep slash but only angered the beast. It opened its mouth and with a loud roar, flames erupted from its mouth.

"Shi-" Marron dived, the flames scorching the tips of his hair, leaving Ark in the way; he barely had time to shout "Power Guard!" before the flame reached him. However, his spell managed to deflect the flame back and stun the drake for a precious second. Focusing his limited mana, Ark chanted "Axe Booster…Rage!" in quick succession before drawing his axe. "Power Strike…Final Attack!"

The attack was successful and he managed to cleave two deep wounds in the dragon's belly; a quick stab from Ryden was enough to send it toppling to the ground. It hit the ground with a loud thud, its blood pooling everywhere.

"Ick." Marron sighed. "Well, at least it's dead. Good job, guys."

"Moron," Ryden said in a sarcastic tone, "if I recall correctly, you were cowering on the ground while we did all of the work."

This comment was enough to touch off another argument between the two, a skirmish thankfully interrupted by the arrival of another red drake, which Marron and Ryden slaughtered in quick succession.

-----

"Double Shot…Final Attack!"

I charged forward, the energy surging about me as I leapt at the Malady that was my target. My first two arrows slammed the witch in the chest and the third one caught her in the head; there was an explosion and a ear-grating scream before she exploded in a blast of dark smoke. When it cleared, I looked about me; there was a bit of frog spawn in a flask lying on the ground, but not much else. Nevertheless, I pocketed it with a grimace.

How long had I been here? Definitely a while…Another witch dived at me with a shriek; I side-stepped her nimbly and shot her with two flicks of my wrist; more frog spawn, but still no sign of that treasured bow I had been looking ceaselessly for. Despite my dexterity and determination, there were still several cuts and scars on my arms; so many that it was hard to tell which ones were fresh and which ones were from my bouts with Final Attack; and so many that my arms looked like they had been put halfway through a meat grinder.

I swore. "This is NOT helping my mood, damn it." I guzzled down a potion and felt the pain in my limbs somewhat recede; I gathered my senses and roared "Double Shot…Final Attack!" in quick succession. Another witch fell to my determined wrath and I saw a flash of gold fly through the air.

"Yes!" I pumped my fist in victory, but when I got there, my face fell- it was a gold-colored piece of ore. I picked the thing up and felt an impulse to throw it down a tree hole, but on second thought, I slid it into my pack and ventured further through the Forest of Evil.

I brushed aside a low-hanging clump of leaves and closed my eyes, seeking my next target…and I found it, hovering above me, ready to cut me apart, but I was ready.

Quickly, I raised my bow and jumped up, gathering my energy. "Power Knock-Back!"

The blue steel of the Olympus clanged satisfyingly against the Malady's head, stunning it; a quick Double Shot was enough to send it away. I collected the frogspawn (without really wondering why I would need it, all it did was smell bad.) However, my question was answered a second later when someone yelled, "Thunder Spear!"

A flash of lightning came roaring right at me and I ducked, but I realized whomever it was hadn't been aiming for me at all; rather, the attack struck a Malady right behind me that had been ready to slash me a second ago. I took a deep breath of relief and then turned to thank my benefactor.

"Thanks for your help, I-" My mind automatically went into emergency shutoff as I stared at this person.

(AN: Yes, this is getting a little cliché, the whole "have ppl appear and save Zer's ass" concept, but I suck at romance; and besides, having her parachute in isn't going to do much good either.)

"Phoenix, shut up before you babble my name again and embarrass me." the familiar, sassy voice of a certain ice/lightning wizard (now mage) said.

"Well-" I found some courage, despite the odd squeezing sensation in my chest, and managed to say, "What are you doing here?"

"I have my reasons." she said evasively, and my eyes narrowed. "You?"

"Outdated equipment." I muttered, pointing to my Olympus.

"Oh, I see." A wicked-looking smile crept over her face and I saw her hands delve into her pack. "Are you looking for this?"

"Wha-" I nearly choked; she was holding a sleek, new Asianic Bow in front of me. I made a snatch for it, but she playfully raised it above my grasp; I dived at her and she side-stepped me; finally, I managed to corner her into a clump of trees, but just before I prepared to seize it, she giggled, said, "Teleport!" and with a flick of her wrist vanished into thin air to reappear on a branch several feet above me.

"Damn it!" I roared at her from below, but my frustration only seemed to make her more and more amused. "Want it, Phoenix?"

I turned red in the face and could feel a vein pulsing in my forehead; I roared, "Get down here, Grace, or you're going to regret it!"

"Aww, Phoenix, is that any way to treat a girl?" she said in a falsetto voice before leaping nimbly to the next branch; I grit my teeth, raised my Olympus, and roared, "Arrow Bomb!"

She teleported out of the way and made a playful face at me; my face went from red to crimson and I roared "Arrow Bomb!" again; the branch she'd been standing on exploded and she teleported out of the way, but I was ready. I adjusted my aim and roared, "Final Attack!"

My attack caught her by surprise and blew off the top of the tree she'd been standing on; she lost her balance and fell off the branch, screaming. Immediately, my mind went into convulsions as I immediately sheathed my bow and dashed towards her, trying to get her before she hit the ground.

There was a thud as she landed safely in my outstretched arms; unfortunately, I had miscalculated the effect that a twenty-year old woman would have falling from a height of 100 feet. My arms, which had already been banged up from training, couldn't take it and I crashed onto the forest floor with a painful thud, Grace still in my arms.

"Smooth, Phoenix." Grace muttered, standing up and dusting herself off. Immediately, I knew I had been fooled into catching her; she could have easily teleported to safety if she had wanted to. I sighed, feeling rather stupid.

"You still want the bow?" Grace dangled it a couple inches above my head, but my arms were so painfully taxed that I could barely move them.

"Grace…That wasn't funny." I snarled through bared teeth.

"Well, I thought it was." She giggled. "Listen, I'll cut a deal with you. If you want this bow, I want two things…"

_Shoot me now, _I thought as I painfully staggered to my feet. Probably ask me to dress up in a miniskirt or something, something to further degrade and humiliate me.

"I want 100 jars of frogspawn…And a kiss." She giggled again.

"Is that all?" I said, staring.

"Yes, is that too much for you?" She stared at me innocently. I eyed her with some distrust; this woman had probably broken both of my arms at my own expense for her own amusement. Still, it seemed like so little, and yet so much, for that bow.

"This isn't a trick, is it?" I muttered.

"Oh, come on, Phoenix, I would never do anything like that to you."

Several different retorts were floating on my tongue at that point, but I bit them all back and counted out a hundred jars of the frogspawn for her; she pocketed it with a flush and winked knowingly at me.

Quickly, I put my arms around her and planted my lips on hers. Under normal circumstances, I would have given the world for this moment, but given the current situation, it seemed more peckish and hurried than either of us would have liked.

Finally, I somehow managed to break free from her grasp and took a breath. "That was…"

"Shut up, Phoenix." She smacked my face playfully. "Here's your bow." She dropped the precious weapon at my feet and began to walk away.

"Wait!" I called, and she turned.

"Um…thanks, Grace."

Her eyes flashed for a moment and I ducked, instinctively, as I heard "Thunder Spear!" and a blast of lightning whizzed over my head, charring a tree.

"I'd prefer if you called me Gracie from now on, okay?" she said in a half-cute, half-venomous voice, then left. I fingered the bow for a bit; it really was excellent. I had not asked Grace what level she was, but now that I had seen her in action, something told me I would be better off not knowing.

-----

It was late afternoon when I returned; the kids rushed out to greet me, panting and red-faced from the day's work, and ended up running me over. Not that I really cared; ever since I'd blasted Iggy with Final Attack my reputation among them had been cemented for good. Thankfully, none of them followed my example and used Final Attack, or I would have went insane (and probably have to sign a few waivers into the bargain.)

"Sweet, Phoenix! Where'd you get the Asianic?" I heard Triton say.

"Forest of Evil." I said shortly, not keen on letting them know that I had had to kiss a mage for it. "What did you guys do today?"

"Well, since you were gone hunting all day," Kalen said, "Captain Tales took charge and made us all run five miles."

"Really, he did that?" I asked, putting on an interested voice.

"Yeah, and it hurt!" Sophia whined.

"Well, you guys probably deserved it anyway. You practice distance today?"

"You're a riot, Captain Phoenix." Triton said in a dry tone. "Yeah, I got 1000 feet today, and the rest of them got at least 600."

"Good." I checked my watch. "It's dinner time, you guys should be heading off to the mess hall." Upon these words, everyone scurried off, eager for food, except, as I found, Erlanger. He twisted the string of his brand-new Vaulter 2000, apparently in one of his shy spells.

"What is it?" I asked, though not unkindly.

"Everyone keeps making fun of me." he said in a quick rush. "They all think I'm too weak."

"Well, then shoot them in the head." I said.

"Captain Phoenix, that's not going to help." he sighed.

"I know, I was trying to lighten the mood." I turned to face him. "Look, Erlanger, if they think you're weak, then prove them wrong. Train harder. Prove to them that you can be every bit as good as them." My heart twinged as I thought of my encounter with Igzarion a year ago. "Or better."

He sighed. "Thanks, Captain Phoenix." He then went off to dinner, and I followed. Dinner was some kind of chunky stew with bread. It wasn't exactly the sort of fare I had expected Gault to serve, but I was hungry and my stomach was in no situation to complain.

"So, Tales," I muttered as I blew on a spoonful of stew, "my kids say you told them to run five miles."

"That is an outright lie." Tales said nonchalantly, his face an impressive visage of steel behind those spectacles.

"Well, I thought so, too, but that doesn't explain the fact that they were all red-faced and sweaty."

"I'm telling you, Phoenix, I didn't make them run five miles." Tales said, partaking of some bread.

"Tales…" I felt my face turn red with slight fury. Obviously, something had happened, but I was not going to get any more out of him for the time being.

"He made them do six." Arundale said shortly. My mouth froze just as I lifted a piece of bread to it; the others snickered.

"I, er, think I should be going now." Tales said, quickly setting down his spoon.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" I roared, lunging at him; he nimbly dodged it and dashed off. I got up, knocking my chair over and whipping out my Asianic Bow. As he dashed outside, I roared, "ARROW BOMB!" There was a huge explosion and a flash of fire outside, followed by a shout of "Aim better next time, Phoenix! Blizzard!"

A blast of snow erupted through the front door and slammed into me full-force, covering me in cold, sparkly white powder. I heard someone mutter, "Is that your captain?" followed by Kalen's voice saying "No, I don't know this imbecile."

"Good job, Phoenix." Arklanser said dryly. "Inferno." The flames from her hand melted the snow and quickly evaporated the resulting water, and I trudged back disconsolately to Gault's table.

-----

Ark Wolfen came in through the door of his house, sighing depressedly. Today, he had achieved level 60, but somehow his spirits were still low.

"Ark, what's up with you? You look like you got eaten and vomited up by a drake…"

"Good analogy, Ass Blade." Ark said, slumping into a chair. "No, I didn't get eaten by a drake, but now that you mention it, I wish I did."

"What is there to be depressed about, anyway?" Ascion said, tending to his brother. The globe of his Cromi glowed as he healed his brother's various bruises and cuts. "You're level 60, which is more than I can ask for at the moment…What's on your mind?"

"Zer." He said, shortly.

"Well, what about him?" Ascion asked. "I'm sure he's doing fine…"

"Yeah, but this Gault guy he's been training with sounds dodgy. I didn't like the look on Zer's face when he was speaking about him."

"He sounded cheerful." Ascion shrugged.

"I know that. But I don't really think he felt cheerful. Maybe there's something he's not telling us."

"Maybe there is, but have you conisdered the fact that maybe he just doesn't want you to worry? He's sixteen and he can take care of himself. It's not like he forgot how to cook in your absence."

"True, but he's still my brother, and that doesn't change anything." He rubbed a bit of rust off the edge of his Shining axe and sighed. "Anyway, it didn't help the mood in Seles' class today when I hit 60. It looked like Marron was going to have a seizure."

"Well, that might not be a bad thing. He needs a trauma; it'll probably work wonders for that ego of his."

Ark chuckled. "Thanks, Blade."

"Since when have you called me Blade?" Ascion raised an eyebrow.

"Since I didn't feel like calling you Ass Blade, that's when." Ark relaxed in his chair, ignoring the shouts and expletives from his brother.

-----

I finished my dinner without much appetite and went upstairs to the dorms to lie down for a bit. Almost as soon as I laid down there was a knock on the door. I fully expected it to be Tales and I readied my bow in hand, but it wasn't.

It was Rathias Gardner. He made a mock expression of horror when he came in. "Expecting company, Phoenix?"

"No." I hastily replied, stuffing the bow back into my quiver. "I wanted to pop Tales one for what he did today."

"Ah, you mean torturing your kids and giving you a powder all over Gault's floor?" He had a jolly laugh that sounded like someone's grandfather. "Yes, I'm sure that was all in good fun, but aside that, you two look like the best of friends…"

"Well, he's better than that airhead Iggy." I snorted.

"Igzarion is just…determined, that's all. You can't blame him for that." Gardner said with a strange look in his eye. "Gault is just like him…except on a grander scale."

"Do you trust Gault?" I asked him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Define 'trust'".

"Well…" I was at a momentary loss for words. "I mean, do you support what he's doing? Do you know anything about his 'civil disobedience' plot?"

"Well, I do support his decision to create a bowman-training academy with his money, but as for his civil disobedience, I can't say I do."

"It's not going to be peaceful, is it?" I asked darkly, expecting the same answer from him as I had from Arklanser.

He cocked an amused glance at me. "He says so, but I've known Gault for longer than you can possibly imagine, and to tell you the truth, I would be highly surprised if he simply marched through Ellinia without doing anything else."

I felt a lead weight settle in my stomach. "That's really helping my mood."

"Yes. Athena told me much about you." he said with a quick nod.

"You know Athena?" I said, surprised.

"Yes. In fact, I've known her longer than you've lived."

"I see." I realized that I was sitting next to a man who had mastered Final Attack, known Athena for probably a couple of decades, and had a Shinebow stuck in his quiver.

"Where'd you get the bow?" I asked.

"Found it off Zakum." He sighed. "Listen, Phoenix, if you want to train, I'd suggest Grupins. They drop really great stuff that you can sell for a pretty penny, and the battle experience isn't bad either."

"Grupins…" I fingered my bow for a bit. "Don't a lot of people use forbidden magic there?"

"Well, true, but the garden isn't that small either." He shuffled a bit closer to me. "If you ask me…I think something big is going to happen soon."

"What do you mean by that?"

His face assumed a more serious expression. "I don't think Gault has peace on his mind at the moment, if you get my point."

"Yeah." I nodded.

He grabbed my face and almost yelled, "Phoenix, you must become a Ranger as soon as possible, understand me?!"

I stood, stunned at his outburst. He sighed.

"Sorry. I just…" He stared at me, then slowly broke off his gaze. "Just train hard. You might need it later."

He left, and I was spared with no relief from my thoughts.

-----

_Six Months Later_

I had put it off for quite a while, but I finally got around to going to Orbis to snipe down some Grupins.

As fate would have it, I had purchased a few bow scrolls with the money that I had gotten from Gault, but most of them ended up self-destructing in my face. Nevertheless, I couldn't track down Grace and beg her for another bow (nor did I feel like doing so), so I awaited my seventieth level with trepidation.

"Garden of Green…let's see." I murmured, tracing a few lines on a map. Sure enough, the aforementioned garden was a thousand feet above my head, out of reach save for a few precarious ladders.

I gulped. _Don't look down. _I seized ahold of the first rung on a nearby ladder, and pulled myself up. I'd always had a fear of climbing and heights ever since I was five and I'd tried to climb a tall tree, with disastrous results. Climbing a ladder was much easier than climbing a tree, but my heart still thudded with every step I ascended.

After some time, which I don't quite recall with much accuracy, I was finally up that ladder. Brushing sweat off of my forehead, I quickly strung my bow and looked around.

"Double Shot…Final Attack!"

Three golden shafts flew from my bow and struck a Grupin; however, when the smoke cleared, the Grupin was still there, severely wounded but still very much alive. It bared its teeth at me, its horn charging with icy energy.

"Uh-oh." A beam of icy-blue shot from its horn, and I felt myself being thrown into the air and landed with a painful thud. _Damn you, Gardner. _Quickly, I released an Arrow Blow, which was enough to put it down.

"Double Shot! Final Attack! Double Shot! Final Attack!"

I quickly realized that a Double Shot/Final Attack combo was sufficient enough to kill the overgrown cats about half of the time; whenever it didn't, I finished them off with a quick Arrow Blow. In this fashion, I managed to slaughter them quite easily, slicing off their extremely soft tails and stuffing them into my pack.

The sun shone brightly down on me as I fought, and when the crazy felines weren't biting or freezing me, I had to admit, the fairies' garden was really a nice place.

A beam of ice suddenly struck me in the arm and I cried out in pain, dropping my bow. "Shit!" The Grupin was rushing towards me, and I was left unarmed. In desperation, I pulled out the sword that I carried at my belt and lunged as it dived towards me.

I managed to slash its side, but that only served to anger it, unfortunately. It lunged at me again and I frantically blocked its attack, but not without getting my left cheek clawed up. Angrily, I lashed out with my foot, catching it in the face by surprise. I took this opportunity to snatch up my bow, but before I could fire, I heard a soft growl and turned to see it only inches away from my face.

I roared, "Power Knock-Back!" and swung my bow ferociously. The Grupin skidded back a few feet on the ground, but it was ready to discharge another barrage of ice at me and I was unprepared. However, just then, there was a shout of "Fire Arrow!"

The flaming projectile struck the Grupin in the side and it keeled over. I sighed; this kind of thing always seemed to happen, me being cornered by monsters and someone having to save me. Oh well.

"Thanks." I muttered. This time, I could see that my benefactor was another female wizard; obviously fire/poison. She had short red hair that was tied into two pigtails and she carried an Evil Wings staff over her shoulder.

"No problem." She sighed. "It's nice to see someone who isn't using forbidden magic for once."

"Ah. Well, this is my first time here. I'm only here on a suggestion from a friend."

"Yeah, well, you have to be more careful when you train here. These cats have a bad bite." She stared off into the sky for a moment, then looked back at me. "Name's Schuyler. What's yours?"

"Zeraion Phoenix."

"Two first names, huh?"

"Yes." I bit my tongue in annoyance.

"Well, Zeraion will do for now. Besides, I don't think you feel like using your last name. No one does." I remembered the words of my parents, it seemed, ten years ago, and I shivered.

"So, how many levels until Ranger?" she asked, glancing at me again.

"Five. You?"

"Ah, one here." She giggled.

A sour expression crept across my face. "Well, in any case, congrats in advance. You wanna train together?"

"Sure." she said. "I can't kill that fast by myself."

"…Don't remind me."

-----

After gaining a well-deserved level with Schuyler, I decided to head back to Victoria. As it turned out, Schuyler lived in Henesys herself and rarely left her home except to train every once in a while. I took leave of her near the town gates, then I went off towards Athena's house, because I needed some conversation, and the leader of Henesys looked like a good place to start.

I sidestepped the usual stream of eager kids and eyed the master of the bowmen. Her copper-colored tresses trailed to the floor as she looked up. "Yes, Phoenix?"

Having nothing to say at the moment, I blubbered, "Four more levels until Ranger."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's nice, but I would think you'd be training instead of having a chat with me."

I sighed. "No…no, it's not that." I pulled a chair over and sunk myself in it. "It's about Gault."

"Oh, I see." she murmured, pressing her hands together. "What troubles you?"

"At first, I thought he was just some goody-goody training archers." I sighed. "I wish I could have believed that, but my experiences have led me to believe that he is anything but."

"What experiences?" she asked, eyeing me with a sharper glare.

"He's planning a…well, a civil disobedience thing of some kind." I glanced down at the floor. "Although, knowing him, it's probably anything but."

"True." She fell to running her hand across the hard wood of her desk. "You will have to face Gault someday."

I felt my insides slowly turn to ice as I heard these words. "Don't remind me."

She only continued to stare piercingly at me. "If you know that Gault is planning something…If you know that you will be destined to face him…And if you know that he is at least 40 levels higher than you…"

I braced myself.

"You'd better get the bloody hell out of here and start training, Phoenix." she muttered before standing up and leaving the room. I sighed; the conversation did not go as well as expected, so I was left with no choice but to head back to Gault's mansion.

-----

However, when I returned, the atmosphere among the populace was fairly spirited. All the captains (except Gault, most ominously) were looking disconsolate, but the other units were all excitedly chatting as they dressed themselves for battle.

Dreading the worst, I turned to Tales and merely asked, "Is it today?"

He answered my question with the quickest of nods. I swore and grit my teeth.

_So, this is it. _

However, just then, I felt a hand clap down on my back and I almost bit my tongue off in shock. I turned to see Gault, beaming at me.

"Phoenix! Great to see you!"

"Great to see you too." I said, emotionlessly. He then grasped my hand. "So, Phoenix, are you going to do me the favor of joining us on a little walk?"

"Who's us?" I asked.

"Oh, just the general populace, excepting those killjoys." He waved to the other somber-looking captains. "It'll be fun, I promise."

"Gault, I…" I was about to refuse, but something in the back of my head stopped these words. Behind that smiling face of his, I could clearly sense pure evil radiating from him. His eyes had that crazy look that I'd seen years ago, and as I remembered his encounter with the magician at Pig Beach, I suddenly realized that this was not going to end well.

But if I denied his offer as well, he would definitely suspect something was up. Sighing, I muttered, "Yes, I'll go." much to the surprise of my colleagues. "When do we start?"

"Oh, I'd say about an hour from now. Hope to see you there." He left with a flourish, causing everyone else to round on me.

"What the hell did you accept for?" Arklanser roared.

"Look, I don't-" I bit my tongue for about the third time today, trying to control myself. "I don't support this thing any more than you guys do, but if all of his so-called 'captains' refused this thing he's been planning for about a year and a half, wouldn't you think he'd get suspicious?!"

This drew silence from the others. "Besides," I added, "this'll give me an opportunity to get some proof about his true motives."

"Just don't get yourself caught up in the excitement, Phoenix." Tales said darkly, leaving, as did the rest.

-----

About half an hour before the dreaded moment was about to begin, there was a knock on my door and I opened it to find Gardner.

"Gault sent these for you." he said, dropping a large package onto the floor. It fell with a thud. "By the way," he murmured, as though he was afraid of being overheard, "don't do anything foolish."

As he left, I opened up the package and found a new set of level 60 equipment, excepting the Asianic Bow. I quickly changed, not paying much attention to the clothes, but I did notice that I received a suitable dexterity bonus when I put them on. I sighed. How could I accept items from him, when I knew that he was my worst enemy?

But this wasn't a time to make sides. Not yet, at least. Underneath all the battle clothes, there was a new officer's uniform. Unlike the old one I had been wearing, this one was white instead of blue and seemed a bit more regal. I sighed, not wanting to put it on, but I knew Gault would expect me to. So I pulled it over my shoulders. It was fairly uncomfortable, but it was handsome. Still, aesthetics would not forgive what I was about to do.

I stuck my Asianic Bow in my quiver, then headed out, my face bowed to the ground. I passed the other captains wordlessly, until I reached Gault at the head of the small group he'd assembled, which now looked like a small army, about 50-60 people strong. I scanned the group carefully and breathed a sigh of relief to find that my kids were not among them.

"So, Phoenix, you ready?" Gault smiled. I raised my head an inch and saw the manic glint in his pupils. I merely grunted in assent.

"Well, get ready. It's a long walk to Ellinia." He nodded, then snapped his fingers. "March!" he commanded. At once, our army of archers began to walk forward, with an almost creepy air of obedience. I only stared straight ahead, walking aimlessly along the path.

We reached Ellinia in fairly quick time, the sparse red and yellow forests of Henesys giving way to the lush green behemoths of the forest-dwelling. I heard the grass and branches crunch under my feet with an ominous cracking noise as I walked.

Finally, Gault stopped a few yards away from what looked like a small village. He turned to address the troops. "Now, remember, I only want civil disobedience from you. I think you know what that means and I hope I don't have to repeat it again for you."

The archers nodded, and Gault raised his Shinebow to the air.

_Shinebow?! Hey, wait a minute, when did he hit level 110-_

This horrific thought was interrupted by a roar of "Charge!"

"Shoot!" I dived to the side, abandoning all decorum, as the archers surged forward. Immediately, as I lay on the ground, I heard shouts of "Arrow Bomb!" "Iron Arrow!" "Inferno!" "Arrow Rain!"

The fairies screamed as their peaceful home was invaded; magicians were scurrying everywhere. A few stayed behind to fight our forces, then quickly gave that up when their meager spells had little effect on our armor. I felt sick and I wanted to throw up.

The scene was horrible. Managing to glance up, I saw a ranger torch a few houses with Inferno; near that, I saw another sniper blowing up more territory with Arrow Eruption.

"Dammit, I thought he said civil disobedience!" I roared, but my words were lost in the tumult of the destruction-crazed crowd.

_Damn it, Gault, what have you done to them?!_ I frantically looked around for Gault, but he had somehow disappeared from the main scene, leaving the others to rampage around. No doubt he didn't want anyone to see him.

As much as I wanted to stop the others from their destruction, I knew that Gault was up to something, and so I dashed forward, past a group of screaming children, until I heard his voice. It was a bone-chilling sound that I never thought he was capable of; it sounded like a demon had taken over his voice.

_You have opposed me for the last time; you have always been a hindrance to me. The time has come. You shall pay in blood._

Then there was a roar of "Mortal Blow!", a horrible feminine scream, and then a painful silence. I saw Gault emerge from the woods a few yards off to my right; my heart missed a few beats. What the hell was he doing- or had done?

My heart filled with dread as I pushed aside a clump of leafy branches, and I saw who the target of Gault's rage had been.

Grace was lying on her side in a pool of her own blood, staining the grass below her a horrible dark crimson. A huge spectral arrow had impaled her through the chest and blood was trickling from the corners of her mouth. Her beautiful blonde hair was now matted with dark specks.

Tears sprung to my eyes. _Gault…how could you…! Why?! _I ran to her side, my shoes slipping on the bloodied ground, until I reached her limp body.

Her eyelids flickered softly. "P-Phoenix?" she gasped. She was obviously in vicious pain, but she was trying her best to conceal it.

This was the most painful moment of all for me; the fact that she was suffering horribly, and she saw me as one of them; one of the thoughtless archers who had razed her home; and that somehow, I was the cause of all this.

"Grace…" I sobbed, my tears flowing freely and landing on her face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know it would come to all this…I really didn't…"

I lost myself in another wave of howling. To my surprise, Grace managed to muster the strength to grab my hand.

"Don't cry for me, Phoenix." she gasped softly, coughing up some blood. I felt even sicker inside, but I did as she said. Tough to the very end, as ever. She was so much stronger than I was, or that I ever could be.

"I…I know it wasn't your fault." she said, as gently as she could under the circumstances.

"No…" I had stopped crying, although my voice was still choked up with sobs. "I…I should have stopped Gault when I had the chance, I knew he was evil the whole time, that fucking bastard, and I didn't-"

She squeezed my hand tighter, cutting me off. "Phoenix, p-please listen to me. S-stop blaming yourself f-for all this. I don't w-want you to s-suffer your whole life j-just because of m-my death." She gave a tragic little smile. "Maybe…m-maybe I deserved it, in the end…"

"No!" I grabbed her hand tighter. "Don't talk like that!"

She only smiled some more; that hurt me, more than anything. "P-Phoenix, I was using forbidden magic to level, the whole time. Didn't you ever realize that?"

My heart went cold. _So that was it._

"Ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to be stronger." The weakness had left her voice. "I saw the warriors, the archers, the thieves, all rise higher than me. People like you, Phoenix." She gripped my hand. "I realized…the only way for me…was to use a forbidden spell. I wanted to be a legend."

"You didn't have to do that!" I sobbed. "Why did you have to go that far?"

"Because I wanted to, Phoenix." she moaned. "It was my decision…and now I'm paying for it. Every action has its equal and opposite reaction. First law of magic."

"Don't talk like that!" I cried. "Come on…I'll take you to a cleric or something…"

"Phoenix, I can't. The attack…went through my heart. There's no spell to cure a mortal wound like that." She squeezed my hand some more and coughed up a little blood. "Maybe…the next world will be a better place…than this." Her voice grew even fainter.

"Don't…" I tried to think of something to say, but there was simply nothing I could say that could heal this situation.

"Zeraion…" It was the first time she had ever used my first name.

"Promise me…you'll stop him…for the sake of the world…"

"Grace, I…" The words stuck in the massive lump in my throat, and I bent over her, as her eyelids began to close for what I knew would be the last time. There was one last thing I had always wanted to tell her; I only wished that it could have been under different circumstances.

"I…love…y-"

Slowly, I kissed her lips, just as the last remnants of warmth left them forever.

-----

"Where's Gault?" Arundale muttered, glancing at the clock on the wall. "He said he'd be back around now."

"Probably pillaging another village, I guess." Arklanser said dryly.

There was a hurried knock on the door. "Who the hell could that be?" Igzarion muttered.

"I guess I'll go find out." Gardner sighed, getting up to open the door.

Nothing could have prepared any of the captains for what was behind the door; as soon as it was opened, Zeraion Phoenix staggered in, breathless, his white uniform stained and splattered with blood. In his arms was the bloodied corpse of a young woman.

"Holy-" Gardner leapt back. "Phoenix, what the hell?!"

Phoenix stared up at his colleagues before murmuring…"Gault…"

Then he fainted, the two limp bodies collapsing on the ground with a thud.

-----

When I awoke, I was lying in a clean bed. Someone had changed me in the middle of the night, apparently, as I was now wearing pajamas. Tales was sitting near me.

"Ah, you're awake." he said. "You scared the bloody hell out of all of us last night, Phoenix."

"Who changed me?" I muttered to no one in particular. It was an inconsequential thought, but it was the first thing on my mind.

"Arklanser." he responded amusedly. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, sweet mother of Balrog." I moaned, sinking back into the bed.

"Don't worry, I won't tell you who gave you the sponge bath." the sniper said, chuckling to himself.

I managed a dry chuckle. "You're a riot, Tales." I stared up at the ceiling. "That bastard! How could he-" I sat up, despite the aching, and pounded a fist into my palm. "Athena was right. I am going to have to fight him someday, no matter what."

"Phoenix, be realistic for a sec. Gault is…about 50 levels higher than you are. You're not going to survive a fight against him any day."

"Good point. But mark my words. I will kill him someday."

"Did you get knocked up in the head or something?"

"Tales, I-I loved her." I sighed, staring back up at the ceiling. "How would you feel if the one person you thought you loved was…murdered?"

He sighed. "Good point, Phoenix." He stared thoughtfully at me, his long hair fluttering in his face. "But in any case, you're going to have to become a Ranger before you do anything foolish."

"Yes, I know." I sighed. "When am I going to get out of this bed?"

"Tomorrow. You just got treated for exhaustion. You'll be out of here soon. Before I leave, though…" He pulled a card out of his pocket. "I was asked to give this to you." He tossed it onto my lap and left the infirmary.

I opened it to find a badly drawn picture of a stick figure holding another obviously female stick figure. The caption read, "Captain Phoenix, did you knock her up?" It was signed by Triton, Kalen, Sophia, Sephan, and Erlanger. I stared at the card for a minute before setting it on my bedside table, muttering, "Stupid kids."


	6. The Ranger, Crusader, and Priest

**Chapter 6**

Author's Note: Yay, a new chapter. This is my longest yet, at 30 pages. This is where interesting stuff starts to happen and the story begins to draw inspiration from the Eragon series, sort of.

And for all of you complaining…when you write fiction, EVERY character is expendable. Especially the hot girl.

Disclaimer: I don't own MapleStory. If I did, I would have my account back, 4th job would be out, and all hackers would be dead.

* * *

Gault had not returned, even by lunchtime. However, this was a precious advantage, as it allowed all of us to talk freely about our suspicions. 

The overall mood at the captains' table was quite dismal. Gardner was the first to break the dismal silence.

"I ordered the…coffin today, Phoenix." he said shortly.

"Thanks." I said, staring down at my food. "How much is it?"

"It was a bagatelle, Phoenix. I'll pay for it." He waved the matter away and took a mouthful of risotto.

"So, what are we going to do?" Arklanser said. "We know what Gault's done. We know he's killed at least one person; we know he's probably doing more as we speak."

"Maybe we could try assassination?" Tales said, taking some bread. "We could all just corner him in his room and blast him to kingdom come."

"Wouldn't work." Gardner sighed. "Gault can't be taken by surprise. He has incredible reflexes and ESP."

"What's that?" I asked. "Isn't that what mediums or other spiritual people have when they see ghosts?"

"Far from it." Gardner said. "ESP is extra-sensory perception, and it basically refers to people, bowmen or thieves, with an incredibly high amount of dexterity. Their senses are sharpened to the point beyond human limits, and it's something you really have to be born with; it's damn near impossible to acquire ESP through mundane means."

"So basically," Igzarion said, "we can't even fire an arrow at him without him knowing about it."

"You could fire an arrow at him and he could dodge it, pluck it from the air, and throw it back at you before you could blink." Gardner sighed. "I've known Gault longer than all of you have, unfortunately, and I have a unpleasantly good gauge of what he's capable of."

I looked at Gardner. He claimed to have known both Athena and Gault for a very long time; I didn't doubt his words, but it added another kind of mystique to his already lofty profile.

"In any case, this doesn't help our situation." Arundale noted. "We're all very powerful, but Gault even more so, and four rangers, one sniper, and one hunter are not going to stop him."

"Not to mention that he's got a whole army of slaves to do his bidding." Tales said dryly, casting an eye over the other units, eating carefreely.

"Well, we have to do something…" I said. "Can't we dissuade them to go against Gault?"

"Maybe, but that would take some serious maneuvering, short of nailing that girl's corpse to a stake and showing it to everyone…" Gardner sighed, then had another bite of rice. "I agree with Phoenix, we should do something. The question is, what."

"There's not really much we can do, at this point in time." Tales said. "All we really can do at the moment is train harder. No one is going to believe us if we start putting out pamphlets that Gault is a psycho, and if we try to storm him directly, it might as well be a suicide mission."

"Well, I agree with Tales, but Gault's only going to get stronger in the years to come." I said.

"More incentive for you to become a Ranger as soon as possible, Phoenix." he replied.

-----

_Four Months Later_

"Double Shot! Final Attack!" I roared. My Asianic Bow spat out three bolts of light in quick succession, downing a pair of zombies. I picked up their teeth, then whipped around and dealt some more punishment to another freshly-risen monster.

On the suggestion of Tales, I had gone off to the Forest of Dead Trees to train. Gault suspected nothing of our plans, but at the same time, we had made no progress against him. It was a relief that he'd put off any future incidents of 'civil disobedience', but as Gardner put it, "The dragon lies sleeping in the cave." No doubt, he was up to something even worse, and I didn't want to think about it.

"Arrow Bomb!" I roared, blasting a group of undeads nearby; they lumbered slowly towards me. Before I could react, though, Tales raised a hand and roared, "Blizzard!"

A series of jagged ice pikes rose from the hard ground and impaled the zombies through the chest; I watched with some disgust.

"Well, at least they got ice on it right away." the sniper said, sardonically, before turning his attention to another group of wandering zombies. I drew another few arrows and let them loose, enjoying the feeling of wood and steel through my fingers for once rather than bolts of light energy. The arrows struck down a few more zombies and I smiled.

I was level 69, and Tales level 79. If all went well, I would soon be strafing and burning down monsters with ease, and Tales would have a chance to wield a Marine Raven that he'd been eyeing for ages. "Arrow Bomb! Final Attack!"

I struck down another group of the zombies. The two of us had been out here for hours, and although the experience was swift, it was no picnic hanging out in the dark, frozen grounds waiting for the flesh-eating monsters to rise.

A zombie rose from the ground a foot away from me; it clamped its arm on my leg and gave a hard bite. I swore and kicked it away; Tales quickly strafed it down.

"You all right, Phoenix?" Tales shouted.

"I'm fine." I yelled back. Zombie wounds were extremely infectious and deadly, but an ample supply of antidotes from the El Nath potionery had kept this threat at bay. I dabbed at the wound with some of the green solution; the pain subsided and I drew some more arrows.

"How much longer do you need?" I shouted at him.

"An hour, tops. You?"

"Same here." I huddled my torn robe around me and swore. If I was a Ranger and could summon the power of fire at my fingertips, I wouldn't be shivering like this, but all I could do at the moment was make arrows explode. I quickly knocked off another brace of undeads and coughed, slurping down a bit of red bean soup to protect from the cold.

-----

"Come on, guys!" Ark Wolfen yelled at his two comrades. "We have to kill the drake, dammit!"

"Ark, that's not a drake, that's a full-blown dragon!" Dariel Marron shot back. "Have you lost it?"

"I don't care what it is, all I know is that we've gotta stop it!" Ark roared. "Rage! Power Strike!"

Ark's attack cleaved off a large piece of the dragon's skin; it gave a deafening roar and dived down at him.

"Power Strike! Final Attack!" Ryden roared from behind, chopping off the end of its tail. The dragon, its attention diverted, gave another roar and turned to Ryden, its bloody claw raised. It slashed at the fighter; he leapt out of the way but not without receiving a gash in his helmet.

"Damn, I paid three hundred grand for this hat too." Ryden said, running his fingers over the ripped metal.

The dragon let loose a burst of fire that incinerated a nearby patch of shrub; Marron raised his Sparta and roared, "Slash Blast…Final Attack!" He left a gigantic spiral cut along the dragon's side; it raised its claw again to attack him, but Ryden stabbed his sword into the dragon's heel.

The dragon, tiring of this, rose into the air, flapped its wings, and let out a fiery roar, nearly scorching the three fighters. Ark ran his hand over his axe and murmured, "Axe Booster!" It glowed blue for a moment, and he ran forward.

The beast brought its claw upon him; he raised his axe and shouted, "Power Guard!" Its claw banged against his guard and its huge, bloody fingernail fell to the ground. Undaunted, he continued sprinting towards it, and jumped onto its leg. Gritting his teeth, he began to shinny up the dragon's knee.

"Oh, gods." Marron sighed. "Ryden, distract it while I go help him." The younger fighter nodded and picked up a fairly large-sized stone. With a shout of "Hey, your mom's so ugly she scared away the Crimson Balrog!" he flung the stone at its jaw, knocking off a tooth. This gave Marron the opportunity to jump onto its other leg and climb upwards.

The dragon's eyes narrowed, focused on Ryden. He leaped deftly to the side and dodged its fire blast, then charged forward, death in his eyes, and slammed his weapon against its leg. It reared backwards in pain, nearly throwing the other two off.

"Keep it down over there!" Marron roared as he grabbed ahold of the scales on the dragon's chest, while Ark climbed onto its head. "On three, Dariel!"

"One…two…THREE!" Ark brought the blade of his axe down on the dragon's head, while Marron impaled it through the chest with his sword. It gave a deafening cry of pain before crashing to the ground, sending Ark and Marron down, bruised but very much alive.

"Jeez." Marron spat onto the ground. "If Seles thinks dragon-wrestling is a good way to spend the afternoon, he's got another thought coming."

"That wasn't even a drake. It was a full-grown dragon." Ryden said anxiously. "What in the world does that?"

"Growth hormones?" Marron said humorlessly.

"I don't think so, Dariel." Ark said, sighing. "This had better be the only one around."

"It should be…I guess it's probably some fire mage on crack screwing around." Ryden said.

"The thing is," Ark said, cleaning his bloody axe, "you don't see many fire mages on crack these days."

Ryden gave his teammate a quizzical look. "Just where have you been, Wolfen?"

"You don't want to know." Marron snickered.

"Dariel, just because I'm only one level away from being a sader doesn't mean you have to be jealous." Ark said, with a slight smile.

The swordsman scowled.

-----

The soft forest wind blew through the ornate stained-glass window of a tree-house in Ellinia. A soft flower-petal flew in through the open window and landed softly on Ascion Blade's palm.

"Oh, another faelin petal. Just what I needed." the cleric murmured, setting it on the corner of his desk.

"Ascion," an emerald-haired teenage girl chided him from another table, "you should be working on your magic theory essay instead of looking at the flowers."

"Finished it already, Iris." Ascion shrugged, pulling a neatly bound scroll from the pocket of his robe.

The girl sighed. "Seriously, Ascion, don't you ever do anything besides be so…nerdy?"

"I am not nerdy!" Ascion snapped, upsetting a bottle of ink. "I'm…just responsible."

"Uh-huh." The girl called Iris shook her head. "This coming from a guy who's the youngest priest-to-be ever at only fifteen, finished ALL his assignments and projects for Grendel in advance, and proved all the magic theorems in existence just because he was bored."

"Not all of them." He waved his wand and siphoned the spilled ink away. "I was in the middle of balancing an equation for Dolon's Seventeenth Theorem before you butted in."

"Is this why you have no friends?" Iris said in a mocking voice. Ascion's cheeks turned a dark pink.

"Shut up. Everyone's just jealous."

"Oh sure, like I would ever be jealous of some kid who memorized Grendel's encyclopedia of magic theory…"

"I didn't memorize it! I only borrowed it for some light reading one day!"

"And the day after that, and the day after that…"

"Iris, shut up already!" Ascion moaned, burying his face in his arms.

"Ah, don't worry, Blade, you know I'm the only one around here who actually likes you." she said, playfully smacking his disheveled hair.

He sighed and stared out the window. "To hell with it. You're right, I do need to get out more often. Want to go to zombies?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" she gasped.

"N-no!" His ears reddened. "I just wanted a training partner!"

"Well, in that case, Blade, you've got a date." She smirked and walked away. Ascion stared at her in disbelief.

"I guess trouble with the opposite sex runs in the family." he sighed, rumpling his dark brown hair.

-----

"Arrow Bomb, Final Attack!" I roared, twanging the string of my Asianic Bow with a loud snap. I discharged two explosive projectiles that blew up a large group of zombies nearby. Bits of zombie rained down as I looked on with grim satisfaction.

"Tales, how many more do you need?" I whined.

"Not that many." he said, aiming at another small huddle of zombies.

"Well, hurry up. I'm freezing to death out here."

"Heh, I don't mind the cold." the sniper grinned, spearing the undeads with more massive icicles.

"Oh, stuff you." I sighed, turning away from him. Even though rangers and snipers loathed each other on principle, I had to admit, we were the best of friends, and rivals at the same time. I grit my teeth and slew another couple of zombies with Double Shot, and I raked a hand across my forehead, matted with blood, sweat, and zombie.

"Only need a few more." he said. "You can get out of here soon."

"That's good to hear." I sighed, killing another zombie. I myself only had a few more undeads to go before I reached that precious threshold, the seventieth level that only a few years ago I would have thought pure folly to attempt.

Finally, with a roar of "Blizzard!" Tales reached his eightieth level. I scowled as he eagerly pulled out a Marine Raven and began blasting away. Apparently his powers of ice had been amplified with his new crossbow.

'You'll be fine out here by yourself, right?" Tales called.

"Yeah, I only need a few more." I said sourly. Tales laughed.

"Alright, then I'll see you in Nath, Phoenix." He unfurled a scroll from his pocket and disappeared in a flash of light and wind.

I thought of Ark and Ascion. Where were they? Were they hard at work, striving to attain the excellence of the third class, as I was? I had not seen my brothers for almost two years ever since I'd left them in Perion.

Another Double Shot…another few zombies. Only a handful more. About ten. I sneezed in the cold, then shook my head and aimed at another. I closed my eyes and let the familiar magic suffuse me.

"Arrow Bomb." I murmured, releasing the string and letting the blade of blue fly through the air. It struck true and killed the zombie instantly; the familiar sensation of the untamed magic, once alien and unfeeling, now gentle and comforting, swirled around me.

"Final Attack." I pursed my lips and lanced a brace of zombies, killing them. I imagined each one to have Gault's face. If there had been any petty sympathy or gratitude towards him on my part, it had totally been flung away with Grace's murder. It was true, she had used forbidden magic, and she had deserved to die…but not like that, not at the hands of another.

"I will kill you." I whispered into the dark night, drawing the string with such force that it snapped, leaving a whiplash wound on my palm. Swearing, I stuffed the injured hand into my mouth for a bit before taking out another gutstring and restringing the bow.

Double Shot, Final Attack…Arrow Blow, Final Attack, it was all second nature to me. I was ready, ready to embrace the world of the third class. I was ready to accept my destiny.

I drew the string back. "Arrow Blow." The blue flashed in my mind, the magic flowing around me…I gathered it, formed the arrow, pulled back the string…

Instead of the "Final Attack" that should have came from my mouth at that moment, I heard a roar- a desperate, deafening, pained roar, as though a dragon had been bottled up inside me and was now escaping. At the same time, I felt the unstable mana explode with unimaginable force; the arrow soared from my hand and flashed in the form of a dragon before it landed with a huge explosion. Pain was ripping through every fiber of my body as the vicious magic coursed through my veins.

I felt the familiar rush that had told me I had reached the seventieth level, but the pain was still there; pain so strong, it was almost tangible. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and a loud ringing in my ears. I could hear someone's voice, but I was in too much agony to care, and I fell gratefully into the abyss.

-----

Athena was taking her afternoon stroll around Henesys, glancing around at the town she'd founded. It was really a beautiful place; the children were running about and playing around, people were selling their wares at market, and the sound of flying arrows whistled in the air as her eager archery students practiced their art.

She took a turn around the corner, and that's when the mail carrier ran up to her, out of breath.

"Athena, I've been looking for you all afternoon!"

"Really? What is it?"

"It's the newspaper. I think you should read it." The mailman handed a tightly bound scroll to Athena and sped off, no doubt to deliver the news to more people.

She cast a glance at him. Normally, she didn't have time for petty things like the news, but given the circumstances, she felt today could be an exception. She slit the seal and began to read.

It was a story about how a small village nearby Ellinia had been razed. There had been only a handful of survivors; all of them reported that a group of bowmen had appeared and done it, leaving without any remorse or remunification whatsoever. There was a search going on for the parties responsible and if caught, they were to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

Athena's eyebrows raised in shock and dismay. If her suspicions were true, Gault had indeed gotten the revenge he'd been talking about for so long against the other three classes.

But she knew he wouldn't stop there.

Her heart clenched, and she stood there, simply holding the scroll and staring off into space.

-----

I woke up in a daze, the pain still rolling around inside my head. I was lying on a soft bed, accompanied by nothing except the ceiling light. Apparently someone had saved me and carted me to safety, but who?

I heard a voice, a girl's. "Do you think he's fine?"

Another voice, male. "He'll be fine. He's tough like that."

"I hope so. It would be a bad thing for him to kick the bucket just when he's level 70."

My mind stirred. Who exactly were these people, and how did they know about me?

I looked around myself, the pain in my head receding. Once my vision swam into focus, I was able to see that I was in a rather regally decorated room; it was almost like the room I had at Gault's place, except a little smaller; but grand nevertheless.

There was the sound of a whistling kettle far off in the distance; I heard the girl say, "Soup's ready."

"Alright, I'll take it up, see if he's awake." the other voice said. There was the sound of footsteps, then my door swung open and I was able to look at my benefactor. Blonde hair, dark eyes…an assassin; no, a hermit. He had a Blue Scarab on his wrist, a Dark Identity cap, and red/black earrings. He looked strangely familiar.

"Oh, Zer, you're awake." he nodded, setting a bowl down on the dresser. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm- Hey, wait a second, how do you know my name?!"

The hermit cocked an amused glance at me. "You're one to forget faces easily, aren't you?"

"Wait a sec." It clicked into place and I felt like an idiot. "Joe, is that you?"

"The one and only." He grinned, twirling an Ilbi about his finger. "Congrats on 70, pal…although it's kind of a gyp if you get a seizure right after."

I sighed; praise be to that hermit's dry sense of humor. "Thanks. What level are you?"

"Seventy-five." he responded, flicking the steel into the air and catching it as it fell. "Not exactly Dark Lord, but I'm getting there."

"That's good to hear." I sighed and lay against the pillow. It was snowing outside, the flakes lightly banging against the nearby window. "So, this is your house?"

"One of them." he shrugged.

"How many of these do you own?"

He paused to eye me sedately. "Five." It was obvious he was reluctant to talk about his wealth.

However, I was spared from the discomfort by the arrival of the girl whose voice I had heard before. Red hair and two pigtails, an Evil Wings in her hand.

"Schuyler?" I uttered in disbelief.

"How many Schuylers do you know?" she retorted. I sighed. Nothing like a bunch of sarcastic friends to pep one up.

"What happened to Tales?" I asked.

"Who?"

"The sniper. With long hair and glasses."

"Oh, him. He stopped by for a bit but he said he had to go see his sister. He offered his condolences."

"Zer, I've been meaning to ask you. Where the hell did you get all those scars?" I saw that Joe was referring to my arms, the wounds I'd picked up while practicing Final Attack.

"Um…" I bit my lip, a number of lies flying through my mind, but I knew it would be a great injustice to withold this information from my friends, so I told them the truth. When I finished, both were staring at me, Schuyler with disgust and Joe with awe.

"Phoenix…That's disgusting. How could you do that to yourself?" she asked. It was her tone of voice that hurt me the most.

"You don't understand. There's someone…I have to kill. This was the only way."

"Well, you didn't talk about that when I met you at drakes." Joe said.

"That was…before someone I knew…was murdered." I growled, my hands balling into fists.

Both Joe and Schuyler raised their eyebrows.

"Still, you didn't have to do…that." she said genty, caressing the scars on my arms.

"Every action…has its equal and opposite reaction." I murmured in kind, remembering my beloved's last words.

At mention of this, Joe's face suddenly lighted up, as if he had an idea. "Those scars troubling you much?"

"Well, I've learned to live with them." I shrugged. "They do cramp up every once in a while, though."

"Would it be possible for someone to heal them?" he asked, an interested look on his face.

"No." I sighed. I had indeed consulted Ascion time and time again about the subject, but after inspecting them he had merely given a resigned look and shaken his head. "The clerics say there isn't really much that you can do with wounds like that."

"Ah." A snide grin spread across his face. "The clerics say."

"What are you getting at?" I asked him suspiciously.

In answer, he took something out of his pocket; it was a small key. He unlocked a drawer to the left of my bed and took out a thick book, flipping through the pages until he reached what he wanted.

"Joe, what the hell are you going to do?" I said, drawing back, but he only laughed.

"Don't worry, Zer, this will be painless." He seized my wrist suddenly; I tried to squirm away, but his grip was iron. He traced a few lines with his finger onto my palm and chanted, "Alchemist!"

A series of blue lines began to crisscross from his fingers onto my hand, flowing up through my wrist like veins; my skin felt both hot and cold at the same time. Joe continued to grasp my arm tightly; he chanted some more words I couldn't decipher and squeezed my arm so tightly I thought my hand would pop off. The magic continued to flow, covering both of my arms like a grotesque cast.

Finally, he released my arm, panting; I was panting too, but more out of nervousness that exhaustion. He looked at me, obviously pleased with himself. "Not bad, if I say so myself."

I took a glance at my arms and saw they were…flawless. Every single wound I'd acquired in my life had been healed, replaced by new, glistening skin; the pain was totally gone. Schuyler was staring open-mouthed; I think my jaw went slack as well as I stared at what this hermit had done that so many clerics and priests could not.

"How did you-" I spluttered.

"It's amazing." He twirled his Ilbi some more. "All these mages claiming to be the smartest guys in the world, and they can't even heal a couple of flesh wounds."

"-do that?" I finished.

"Oh, just a little alchemy, Equivalent Exchange and all that crap. I could go into a lot of obscure and archaic terms here, but basically what I did is I took healthy flesh from one part of your body and fixed it to your wounds. The scars will pass out in time."

"What do you mean, you took healthy flesh from one part of my body?!"

He sighed. "Well, let me put it this way. If you tell someone to kiss your ass in the future, you might want to hold your arms out to them."

This caused Schuyler to erupt in giggles.

"So," I said, carefully skirting the conversation away from my behind, "how did you find me in the first place?"

"Oh, I train at zombies often. And this gal was nearby at White Pangs and had a couple of scrolls, so…" He shrugged.

I sighed. "Thanks for all your help, Joe. You've already done too much for me."

"No problem, Zer." he muttered, glancing back at his alchemy textbook with a kind of dismayed look, as though it had wronged him somehow.

Just then, there was a flurry of banging downstairs; Joe raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell is making that kind of noise this late at night?" he muttered before leaving the room to check up on the midnight visitors.

Suddenly, there was a shout of "WHERE THE HELL'S MY BROTHER, YOU BASTARD?!"

There was the noise of something breaking downstairs, someone cursing; both Schuyler and I rushed downstairs to examine the source of the scuffle.

I tried as best as I could to stifle my amusement when I saw Joe tangled up with a fighter and a cleric, all three shouting, swearing and throwing punches at each other, a green-haired female mage looking on, horrified.

"Guys, shut up!" I managed to shout amid bursts of badly suppressed laughter. "I'm fine. This is a friend of mine."

The fighting ceased and all three looked up at me. "Sorry, Zer." Ascion mumbled, red-faced, before dusting himself off and healing himself.

"So, what are you here for?"

"Well, it's a long story, short explanation." Ark said. "I went to the drakes with Dariel and Ryden today, and I hit level 70...so I went off to Ellinia and I heard that Ass Blade had run off with some girl to zombies…so then I had to get on a ship to Orbis post-haste and find the little philanderer-" he gave Ascion a playful smack upside the cheek, then continued. "-And I find him making out behind a rock-"

"It was just a little kiss, Ark!" Ascion snapped, whacking his brother with his wand.

"Yeah, and if I might add, it looked like you were eating her face." Ark said, dryly. "But that's aside the point, after Iris what's-her-name stopped screaming and slapping me, Ascion was level 70 too, so the next thing we set out was to find you. And then we met this red-haired girl-" he pointed at Schuyler- "-and she said that a hermit called Joe had taken you to his house. So naturally, we came as fast as we could."

"Well, I'm flattered." I sighed. "Joe, I hope you have some spare rooms."

"Yeah, whatever, Zer." Joe muttered, rubbing the bruise on his cheek.

"So, third-class advancements, first thing tomorrow, guys?" I asked.

"Yeah." Ark said eagerly, and Ascion nodded. "Oh, by the way," Ark said, indicating a large package that had fallen to the floor during the fight, "we got you a present."

I picked it up and tore it open. A whole slew of fresh level 70 ranger's equipment tumbled all over the floor; I stared at my brothers. There was a Dark Linnex, a pair of Dark Elf Shoes, Dark Patriot, Dark Eyes, and a shiny new Golden Hinkel. There was even a pair of Metal Silver Earrings to top it all off.

"Holy-" I stared at my brothers in awe and gratitude. "How did you afford all of this?"

"Zer, when you train at fire drakes a lot…" Ark said dryly, "you find things. Like Steelies."

"Alright, where are the guest rooms in this house?" the green-haired girl, apparently Iris, asked.

"Upstairs." Joe said, still rubbing his cheek. Immediately, Ark, Ascion, Joe, and Iris dashed upstairs, leaving Schuyler and me alone.

"Zeraion…" She muttered. "You have some strange brothers."

-----

The next morning, I awoke refreshed, with no unpleasant reminders of the night before, save for a very slight headache. Other than that, though, I was in top condition.

When I got downstairs, the sun was only beginning to rise over the snow-capped trees in the distance of El Nath; only Ark and Ascion were awake at the moment, sharing a breakfast of smoked salmon and toast. Both were decked out in their best clothes and ready for battle.

"Hey, Zer." Ascion said, and Ark raised a hand in greeting. "Have something to eat, you look starved."

"Do I?" I said dryly, but I did accept a piece of toast with a slice of fish draped over it. It wasn't exactly what you would call filling, but it did soothe the slight aching in my head and gave me some strength.

"Well, I never thought this day would come." Ark said, sipping some water. "Not for Ascion, at least." This brought a snarl from the aforementioned cleric.

"Just teasing, Blade." Ark chuckled. "Anyway, we should leave soon. There's only so much time in a day." He finished one last bite of his food, wiped his mouth, then got up and left through the huge front door. Ascion and I followed.

There is a massive ice cliff in the middle of El Nath town. On top of it stands the residence of the four third-class advancement instructors. Needless to say, it was a horrible stretch to climb it, for someone afraid of heights like me, but I managed to pull myself up without sustaining any horrible injury.

Inside the small residence, it was rather toasty. A fire was burning in the nearby grate and the instructors looked up at us. One of them, armed with a sword draped across his back, asked, "What is…your purpose…in coming here?"

"We wish to make the third-class advancement." Ark responded.

"I see." Three of the instructors pulled out pieces of parchment and began to scribble; finally, they gave Ark, Ascion, and me three notes.

"Bring these…to your masters in Victoria Island." the man said, then turning his back again to sit before the fire. The three of us needed no urging and left.

-----

There was a conference between the Four Wisemen of Victoria Island in Sleepywood. Grendel and Athena sat opposite a round table, firing retorts at each other, while Sitting Bull and Dark Lord looked disconsolately on.

"Athena…" the old man rumbled in a surprisingly loud voice. "I wish to know the identities of the people who destroyed that village!"

"I'm telling you, Grendel, I don't know!" Athena shot back. "Believe me, I don't condone this act any more than you do, but just because I'm the leader of the bowmen, you expect me to keep all of them tongue-in-cheek?"

"It is odd," Grendel continued, "that the magicians, warriors, and thieves all outnumber the bowmen…and yet, they are kept in order while the bowmen run around Victoria pillaging villages and killing people."

Athena resisted the impulse to draw her bow and merely bit her tongue. "Grendel, if I had their names, I would tell you in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, that information has not been fortunate enough to reach my ears. If I find anything, I'll let you know."

The old mage's eyes narrowed. "You seem to be witholding something from us."

"Whatever would give you that impression?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously as well.

"You seem troubled." he merely said, his arms folded.

Athena was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of three people; one was a fighter and the second was a cleric. The third was Zeraion Phoenix.

"Zeraion!" Athena raised her eyebrows. "What brings you here?"

"You weren't in Henesys." the hunter shrugged. "We had to ask around for a little while."

"I take it you've reached level 70?"

"Yes. However, I wish it could have been an occasion of celebration."

Athena could sense the tone of his voice, but she decided to let the matter wait. "You have visited the residence of the third-class instructors in El Nath, I presume?"

"Yes." Zeraion pulled out a scroll, as did his companions. Athena read the scroll, then tossed it onto the hot coals of the sauna, where it ignited immediately and was ashes in seconds.

"You won't be needing that anymore." she said. "Now then, your next step is to obtain an artifact from the dungeon. It is a dark charm, and it contains shadows of the powers that dwell in the four classes. In order to obtain the charm, you will have to fight a doppelganger of myself- so to speak. It's significantly weaker than my true form, but that doesn't make it harmless. Be on your extreme guard when fighting it."

He nodded. Grendel said, "Interesting…these three are brothers. I think it appropriate that we hold a triple examination ceremony, if it pleases you."

"What does you mean by that, Master Grendel?" Ascion asked.

"Instead of taking the test by yourself, as most people are apt to do, you three can take the test together as a party. While it may sound easy, keep in mind that you will have to fight versions of myself, Sitting Bull, and Athena at once…so take extreme care."

Ark and I exchanged glances, but Ascion said, "We'll accept."

My insides seemed to fall out. "Yes, we'll accept."

"Excellent." Grendel rubbed his palms. "Now, in order for all three of you to take the exam at the same time, it is necessary that you enter the dungeon through a special dimension door. It will take some time to articulate, but it will be well worth it." He, Sitting Bull, and Athena left, and we quickly followed, not wanting to stay in the sauna with Dark Lord.

-----

My insides were fluttering as I realized the importance of what was about to happen. While Grendel traced an array on the ground, I turned to Ark and Ascion and asked, "How much do you think this is going to impact our chances of winning?"

"If you ask me, I think we've already got it in the bag." Ascion chuckled.

"Well, I think we can do it." Ark shrugged. "It's just like fighting with Dariel and Ryden at drakes, except I have better teammates." I chuckled at this.

Finally, Grendel was finished drawing his dimensional array. He, Sitting Bull, and Athena arranged themselves around the circle and began to chant.

At first, nothing happened. However, I felt the wind pick up, and then suddenly, I felt what seemed like a tornado barrel its way through. Dust and dirt were being kicked up frantically into the air, and there was a bright light, so bright I couldn't open my eyes. However, the light soon abated, leaving what seemed like a black hole in its wake. A ferocious roar of wind was erupting from the portal.

Without flinching, Ark walked in, his amethyst-colored Chrono axe over his shoulder. There was a flash and a roar as he disappeared. Ascion cast a glance at me before following, the swish of his long Requiem robe fading in the roar of the portal as it swallowed him up as well.

I stared at the portal, fingering my Hinkel's string. This was it; the legendary third class that I'd revered ever since I was a child. Could I do it?

Yes. I had my friends and siblings behind me. I could not fail. I had to complete Athena's prophecy and destroy Gault once and for all.

Without looking back or faltering, I too shouldered my weapon and walked into the roaring abyss, the wind howling furiously in my ears as I stepped into the mysterious cavern.

-----

"Dammit, when's Ark getting back?" Dariel Marron sighed, repeatedly bashing at a bunch of angry drakes as they roared and bit out at him. "Hate to admit it, but I miss that bonehead."

"You won't be missing him when he strides in with a Chrono and starts using Panic everywhere, Moron." Ryden teased.

A vein bulged in Marron's forehead, but he dared not attack the younger fighter. Ryden may have been small compared to his teammates but that didn't make him any less vicious when provoked. Instead, he settled for "Don't call me Moron again…or else."

"Yeah, whatever." Ryden unsheathed the mock-up of a Sparta that Seles had given him. It was much heavier and unwieldy than a normal sword, but it would help train strength and blade mastery. With little effort, he rushed forwards and decapitated a drake.

"Or else what?" Ryden mocked.

Marron glanced up at him again. "Never mind. Just shut up and help me kill these things. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll find some Steelies."

"Sure…whatever, you say, Mor-"

In a flash, Marron had drawn his blade and pointed it at his teammate. "Don't screw around with me, Ryden." he warned dangerously.

Ryden only coolly stared down the tang of Marron's sword. "Shut up, _Dariel._" he mocked with a patronizing accent. "We're a team now, and teammates don't kill each other…even if they want to." he added, patting the sheath of his sword.

Marron sighed, then resheathed his own Sparta. "Whatever you say…teammate." He ground out the last word.

-----

The first sensation I experienced when flying through the portal was one of awe. My eyes were closed, but if I opened them it would make no difference; the atmosphere was pitch-black. However, there was a strange feeling of being squeezed through a tube that was both exhilarating and asphyxiating at the same time.

With a thud, I crashed onto what felt like a cold stone floor. Both Ark and Ascion were casting a dry glance at me. "Took you long enough, Zer." the latter muttered.

"Well…" I took stock of our surroundings; we were inside what seemed like a long corridor, barely lighted by evil-looking torches mounted on the walls. "I guess we keep going forward. Going back isn't an option."

Both nodded, and we went onward. As we pressed on, a faint sound reached my ears; it was a wailing sound, a sound of pure despair.

"Hear that?" I muttered.

"Yeah. We must be getting close to something." Ascion cocked his head to the side.

"Only one way out from here." Ark sighed, walking on, the clank of his metal greaves eerily resonating across the hall.

I continued walking, until the floor ended. No, really. All of a sudden, I stopped; the path suddenly seemed to break off, leading into empty space. It was fairly creepy, to be standing on solid ground and staring into a boundless abyss only a few yards away. I wandered to the edge of the path and peered down; nothing down there except more darkness.

"What do you think we do now?" Ascion asked.

"Only one thing that we can do." Ark shrugged his shoulders. "We jump."

"Jump? Ark, are you crazy? That's going to-"

He did not wait for me to finish; with a shout, he leaped off the cliff that our path had become. For a second, I expected him to break gravity and fly through the air, but instead he plummeted through the darkness, downwards.

"ARK!" both of us shouted. We looked down, but there was no sign of our brother anywhere. Gritting my teeth, I said to Ascion, "Come on. There's no other way."

I took his hand, and we leaped off the ledge together. It was a strange thrill; as I fell, I didn't want the exhilaration to end, but at the same time I didn't want to do it again.

We seemed to be falling through an endless chasm, until I saw a very dim light below; could it be a hidden chamber of some sort? I told Ascion to brace for impact and shut my eyes.

We slammed into the ground at full force; the strange thing was that even though we'd jumped from a height that should have killed us, we were very much alive, except for some slight bruises which Ascion quickly healed. Then I looked above us and saw the ledge we'd jumped from, only a couple of yards above my head.

_So…the whole thing, the darkness, the falling, that was just an optical illusion? _I felt slightly unnerved, but there was no time to think about that now. We found Ark nearby, shaken but very much alive. Ascion quickly healed him, and we pressed on.

We were in another corridor similar to the one we'd jumped from. I was beginning to wonder if this was all another optical illusion and we were going in circles, but at the end of the hall, instead of another seemingly bottomless pit, there was a few floating ledges that seemed to lead downwards to a…as I looked down, an arena of some sort?

"No turning back now." I grit my teeth, then followed behind Ark, Ascion at my heels. Once we were in the pit and on solid ground again, I looked around; the wail that we'd heard earlier was much louder now, but where was it coming from-

With a tremendous roar, the ground underneath our feet suddenly ripped apart. Beams of light were bursting from the ground and soaring upwards; I yelled and dodged the spectral blades as they burst from the ground; the floor was shaking violently, the wailing was louder…

And as quickly as it had started, it was over, the ground now severely cracked and strewn with rubble. However, as my eyes adjusted to the now dimmed light, I saw three figures silhouetted in the eerie bluish glow of the ethereal torches.

They ventured closer, and as we tensed ourselves, I could see that they were the figures of Sitting Bull, Athena, and Grendel; except much more ghostlike, as though they were doppelgangers of their flesh-and-blood forms. They had bloodred pupils and their bodies glowed a spectral gray.

After what seemed like an eternity, the figure of Sitting Bull spoke; only three words spoken in a ultimatum tone.

"_Draw your weapons."_

Ark drew his huge axe, shimmering lavender in the light, and I strung my Hinkel. A few more tense seconds passed before Sitting Bull spoke the next word.

"_Begin."_

_-----_

What followed in the next several minutes seemed like an eternity.

I only had a moment's warning before Athena launched four arrows at me; I dived to the side and dodged them. Ark chanted "Rage!" and Ascion roared, "Bless!" I felt my brothers' power surge into me.

Fired by this, I snapped my fingers and commanded, "Soul Arrow…Bow Booster!" Immediately, the magic began to suffuse me. I then raised my bow and roared, "Double Shot…Final Attack!"

The first two arrows missed, but the third managed to strike the ground near the ghostly figures and explode. However, they emerged, relatively unfazed. Grendel raised his staff and commanded, "Shining Ray!"

Bursts of light spewed from his staff; I heard Ascion roar, "Invincible!" and saw one collide with an invisible barrier just a few feet from my face. Ark was off to the side, having a ferocious melee duel with Sitting Bull; so it seemed Ascion and I were on our own.

Athena fired another volley of arrows, which I either dodged or Ascion shielded, then I roared, "Double Shot…Final Attack!" I managed to hit Athena twice and blast Grendel with the follow-up attack. Grendel recoiled; this gave Ascion the opportunity to raise his Angel Wings and shout, "Holy Arrow!" He pierced the ghostly form with an arrow, opening up a gash in the translucent body; but it sealed itself as quickly as it appeared.

"Shoot." I growled. _We're going to need a lot more stamina if we want to beat these guys. _Angrily, I aimed, firing a quick Arrow Blow/Final Attack salvo at Athena. This was enough for me to stun her, which Ascion quickly followed up with another Holy Arrow.

In the background, Ark raised his axe and roared, "Power Strike!" His attack clanged off of Sitting Bull's blade, but he whirled around with lightning speed and shouted "Final Attack!" He managed to inflict a deep slash in the phantom's side the immediately healed. Death in his eyes, Sitting Bull raised his blade and roared, "Combo Attack…Panic!"

The force of the attack blew through Ark's guard and sent him flying into a stone column. Swearing under my breath, I sent Ascion to take care of him, then raised my bow and shouted, "Double Shot! Final Attack!"

Unfortunately, Sitting Bull managed to spin his blade around and quite literally- chopped the arrows in half as they flew towards him. Needless to say, I was more than a bit surprised; also unfortunately, I didn't see Athena raising her bow and chanting "Mortal Blow!"

Something with the force of a raging elephant slammed me in the side and I crashed into the stone wall; blood flowed from a gash in my forehead. My eyesight blurring, I saw Ascion ferociously dueling with the three ghosts, trying as best he could to evade their attacks.

"Ascion, over here!" I shouted. His gaze falteredand with a shout of "Explosion!" Grendel blew Ascion into the wall as well.

"Damn it!" I pulled Ascion up to his feet as the ghostly figures charged towards us. Ascion quickly murmured "Heal!", sealing the gashes and bruises I'd accomodated. Refreshed, I quickly sunk three arrows into Athena, as Ascion launched a flurry of his holy arrows at Grendel.

Unfortunately, Sitting Bull chanted something I couldn't decipher, and then out of nowhere a brace of Tauromacis appeared, charging at us.

"Shit!" I dived to the side as Ascion went in the opposite direction. I quickly got up and sent three arrows flying at the Tauromacis, but all that did was aggravate it. It charged at me, its spear raised, and sent a bolt of lightning crashing towards me. My body met the wall for the second time with a sickening crack.

Just then, I saw Ark charging out of nowhere, his axe raised high above his head. With a roar of "Power Strike!" he cleaved off its arm. While it howled and thrashed in pain, I took the opportunity to blast it with another round of ammunition. It fell to the ground with a tremendous thud, dead.

The other Tauromacis, angered at the death of its companion, sent a bolt of lightning at us. Ark stepped in front of me and chanted, "Power Guard!" The lightning bifurcated harmlessly about us as Ascion blasted the beast with a holy arrow. It roared and lumbered towards him.

"Oh no you don't." I growled, raising my bow and firing three arrows at it. The first two stabbed it in the back, and the third, the Final Attack, soared straight and exploded on its claw, blowing the spear out of its grasp. Ark charged forward and ended its life with an axe stab through the heart.

My resolve hardened, I aimed straight for Athena and shouted, "Arrow Bomb…Final Attack!" These two shots hit their mark, and with a explosion of blue flame and a howl she disappeared into the darkness. I smiled. Excellent.

Before Sitting Bull could summon more Tauromacis, I charged forward and raised my bow. "Power Knock-Back!" I roared, slamming the Hinkel right onto his head. This stunned him enough for Ark to charge him with a Power Strike/Final Attack combo. Like his companion, he vanished into the darkness. Last to go was Grendel.

He raised his staff and chanted, "Ice Strike!" A series of massive icicles burst from thin air and flew towards us, knocking the wind out of me for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Ark lashed out at him with a powerful upwards slash; it stunned him and allowed Ascion to aim a holy arrow right into his critical point. There was another burst of blue flame as he vanished.

"Finally." Ascion sighed. He ran over to me and murmured "Heal." I felt my wounds close up and I got to my feet. "Now what?"

"Well, I picked these up." Ascion held out three evilly-glimmering necklaces; we each took one. "I think these were the dark necklaces that Athena was referring to."

"Wonderful." Ark murmured, stowing the jewelry away in his pocket. "Now how do we get the hell out of here?"

"Over there!" I shouted, pointing at the nearby portal that was beginning to close.

Ark, Ascion and I immediately began to run for it; the portal was growing smaller and smaller by the second as we ran, our shoes clanging against the ground. However, in classic misfortune, Ascion tripped over a piece of stray rubble.

"ASCION!" I shouted as he fell; Ark twisted around but he'd already disappeared into the portal…my mind was racing and I turned back to grab his hand, pulling him up.

"Come on!" I roared at him; the portal was now significantly smaller…I didn't know if I would make it. I ran faster, faster than I had ever run in my life, but at the same time, it was shrinking…much too fast.

Too fast.

I tripped, flying through the air, Ascion's hand still in mine, and I screamed in despair as I saw the portal begin to close up. _No…_

Then I heard Ascion snap his fingers and mutter, "Teleport!" and the next thing I knew, I had disappeared in a flash of rushing wind and darkness.

-----

I fell with a thud onto the soft loam of Sleepywood. Unfortunately, Ascion landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of my chest for a bit. When I finally managed to stand, Ark was looking at us.

"Zer! Blade! You made it out?"

"Yes," I muttered, glaring at Ascion, "if he hadn't tripped, I wouldn't have almost pissed myself…"

"Oh, shut up, Zer. You know, if it hadn't been for my Teleport, we'd still be stuck down there."

"Oh, yeah, praise be to your quick wit," I muttered, "not to mention your overall _clumsiness…_"

Ascion was about to send a Holy Arrow into my gut, but was thankfully interrupted by the breathless arrival of the real Sitting Bull, Athena, and Grendel.

"Oh, thank goodness." Athena sighed. "We overshot the return portal. Good thing you're not hurt. Did you get the necklaces?"

"Yes." I said, pulling out mine, as did my brothers.

"Good." She seemed to stare off into the distance a little before returning her gaze to me. "Now, if the three of you travel to the instructors' residence in El Nath they should tell you what to do next."

I nodded and turned away from her, Ark and Ascion at my heels. What I had most dreaded had come true from overhearing Grendel and Athena's conversation; the authorities had gotten wind of the destruction in Ellinia, and as a result Gault had dragged us all into hell. We were now little more than convicts and criminals.

_How many more lives must be lost to stop a single man?_

Slowly, I shook my head and walked through the forests of Sleepywood.

-----

Back in Henesys, the atmoshere was extremely dismal. All the captains of The Uprising, minus Gault, Phoenix, and Tales, were sitting around a table, playing a game of poker. However, despite the light mood, there was an air of depression that hung about the room, except for Gardner.

"Four of a kind." he announced triumphantly, throwing his cards down. Everyone scowled.

"Seriously, Gardner, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were stacking the deck." Arklnaser muttered, dropping her cards on the table listlessly.

He gave a wide, toothy grin. "Perhaps, Delinia."

Arklanser growled, flames gathering at the tips of her fingers, and would have delivered a very painful slap to her superior if not for the entrance of a very somber-looking Tales.

"Rysdale." Gardner turned to face the sniper. "Congrats on eighty. How's your sister?"

"Same as usual, Gardner." Tales sighed, pulling out a chair and slipping himself into it. "There was an interesting bit in the newspapers. I think you should take a look at it." He took a scroll from his pocket and flicked it onto the table. Igzarion picked it up.

"So, what's on the news, Iggy?" Arundale asked.

"Just the usual." he said, quickly running his dark eyes across the paper. "Except there's a bit in the corner about how a village near Ellinia got razed."

Everyone exchanged dark looks. "You don't think…" Arklanser began.

"It says, 'A band of bowmen was described as the culprit in this apalling incident'. Who else do we know controls a band of bowmen ready to destroy at a moment's notice?" Igzarion said in a slightly curt tone.

Both Arklanser and Arundale clapped their hands over their mouths, and Gardner raised an eyebrow. "You're saying that Gault did that?"

Igzarion sighed, folding up the newspaper and igniting it with a flick of his wrist. "They also said that the parties responsible will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, if caught."

"So, basically, we're now all convicted felons." Tales said in a dark tone.

"That's it. I'm not going to live under the same roof with that son of a bitch. As soon as he gets here, I'll-" Arklanser got up from her seat, but was restrained by Gardner.

"Get a grip on yourself; Gault's not the person to be trifled with. I found more proof that he doesn't have peace on the mind."

"What?"

Gardner took a quick glance around the room, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "This afternoon, while he was at Aqua Road, I took a glance at his room."

"Housekeeping?" Igzarion chuckled.

"Shut up, Iggy." he snarled. "As I was saying, I was checking out his room, and I found something that didn't sit well. It was a certain book that he had on his bookshelf."

"What, Better Homes and Gardens?" Tales muttered.

Gardner cast a weedy look at Tales. "You're a riot, Rys." he muttered. "But you also don't see many rangers with "Necromantica" on their bookshelves."

"What the hell's that?"

"It's an encyclopedia of…well, necromancy, or the art of dark magic. Forbidden spells, mind control, torture, and stuff like that." He sighed. "To find that on anyone's bookshelf would be disturbing enough, but to find it on a ranger's shelf, as opposed to a mage's, is just downright suspicious."

"So, what are you suggesting?" Tales shrugged. "Blow him to kingdom come?"

"No. Not yet, at least. We need to dissuade as many people as possible from his plans."

"And if they refuse to believe us?"

"Well, then that's going to be too bad for them." Gardner merely shrugged, then gathered the scattered cards together and reshuffled the deck. "But for now, I think we should secede from The Uprising. Form our own organization."

"In secret?"

"Yeah, like we want to publicize the fact that we're rebelling against Gault…Of course we're doing it in secret, you blockhead."

Said blockhead Iggy lowered his head sheepishly, while Gardner held out his hand. "So…the formation of The Resistance…"

All the others held out their hands and placed them on top of Gardner's.

"…begins now."

-----

Time passes slowly when you're impatient. Although the ride from Ellinia to Orbis lasted only about fifteen minutes, it seemed like several hours to me. I was extremely glad when they finally lowered the gangplank of the ship and we were able to get some fresh air.

After a very short stroll to El Nath (thanks to a handful of Orbis Tower Scrolls) we were once again standing in the warm residence of the third-class instructors, now being eyed by the warrior, bowman, and magician, whose names I later learned were Tylus, Rene and Robeira.

"Good job; I see you've proved yourselves more than capable of accepting the responsibility of the third class." Tylus said, taking the necklaces. "However, the physical exam, so to speak, was only half of the story. It's now time for your mental exam."

"In the middle of the Snowfield," Rene continued, "there is a hidden cavern where no monster dares venture. It is the Holy Ground, and it contains the Holy Stone. You will require one dark crystal each-"

"And it will judge if you are worthy." Robeira finished. "If you are successful, you will obtain a Necklace of Wisdom from it. Bring it here, and you shall be worthy of ascending to the third class."

Once having received these instructions, we left. Once we were out of earshot, Ascion sighed. "They could have at least given us a map."

-----

After quite a bit of tromping around in the snowfield, and a few unpleasant bouts with some yetis and some werewolves, I finally managed to locate the entrance to the cavern that the instructors had talked about. (It didn't help that we had unknowingly already passed the cavern five times without realizing it.)

Indeed, right in the middle of the cavern, was a gigantic black stone, strange runes carved all over it. I ran my fingers over it; there was no sign, no hint, no clue on what we were supposed to do to receive our 'test' from this boulder.

"Isn't there supposed to be a slot somewhere for this thing?" Ark muttered, taking out a dark crystal.

Ascion said nothing, only studying the runes calmly. It was beginning to snow and I was keen on getting out of here before a blizzard struck.

I laid my hand on the stone and rubbed it, waiting for something to happen. Nothing happened, so I kicked it- a _very _bad idea. Writhing in pain, I swore and clutched at my sore foot.

"Smooth, Zer." Ascion muttered. "I think I've got it. These runes are a little archaic, but I think I understand a bit of it." He took his dark crystal and knelt before the stone, muttering something I couldn't hear.

Ascion's dark crystal suddenly began to glow with a silvery light, then, as Ark and I watched in wonder, it exploded, scattering into millions of tiny little star-like fragments before dissipating. Then I heard a voice, a low, deep, guttural sound. It sounded like the stone was talking…

…wait a minute. Stones weren't supposed to talk. At least, not the ones that I knew of. But there was no one else in the valley except us three, so it had to be the stone, somehow.

_Your offering has been accepted. Speak your purpose now._

I heard Ascion murmur, "I wish to obtain the power of the heavens, the holy might of the gods. I aim to become the master of all that is good and triumph over all that is evil. I wish to become a priest!"

There was a flash of bright light, and I suddenly heard Ascion screaming in pain. Before I could do anything, though, it was over almost as quickly as it had started. Ascion was lying on his back in the snow, dazed.

"That was…crazy." he muttered.

_You are worthy of that which you speak of. It has been granted._

He scrabbled to his knees in the soft snow, sifting his fingers through the cold, white powder, until he found what he was looking for; a delicate, golden chain with a purple crystal mounted on it.

"This must be a Necklace of Wisdom." he murmured. Finally, he stood to face Ark and me. "Alright, guys. You probably don't understand the old Victorian runes, so I'll outline it for you; basically, everyone must offer a sacrifice of a dark crystal and say the words "Ancient stone of Victoria, listen to my plea," and recite some words that basically state what you want to be. Ark, your lines are 'I wish to obtain the strength of a tiger and the noblest heart of all. I aim to become the defender of the weak and the fighter of the strong. I wish to become a crusader."

Ark nodded, and Ascion turned to me. "Zer, your lines are 'I wish to obtain the might of a dragon and the grace of a phoenix. I aim to become the master of the bow and the knight of the skies. I wish to become a ranger."

I nodded, trying to absorb what he'd said, and Ark knelt by the stone. He recited the lines that Ascion had told him, writhed in pain for a moment as the stone examined him, the pronounced itself satisfied. He obtained another necklace, except his was set with a red jewel.

"Your turn, Zer." Ark pocketed the necklace and got to his feet.

I knelt in front of the pedestal of the stone and set my dark crystal on it, then murmured, "Ancient stone of Victoria, listen to my plea."

For a second, nothing happened and I thought it was a dud, but all of a sudden my dark crystal shattered into a million pieces just like Ark and Ascion's had, and then I felt this huge presence touching my mind, and I was awed by its power.

_Your offering has been accepted. Speak your purpose now._

My mouth was very dry, but I managed to recite what Ascion had told me. "I wish to obtain the might of a dragon and the grace of a phoenix. I aim to become the master of the bow and the knight of the skies. I wish to become a ranger."

And then, suddenly, the presence that was in my mind suddenly ripped into my head with a roar. I clutched my head and screamed in pain as I felt the power of the stone scour my memories, my thoughts, my power to see if I was worthy.

Finally, I lay on my back, panting; the pain was gone, but the shock of it still coursed through my body. I staggered to my knees and found a third necklace lying in the snow, just like my brothers', except mine had a green jewel set inside it.

_You are worthy of that which you speak of. It has been granted._

The stone glowed brightly for a moment, then deactivated, its light slowly fading until it was once more a simple obsidian monolith.

Ark was the first to regain his composure. "I think we should go back to Nath now, don't you agree?"

"Yeah." I muttered. 'Before I get assaulted by any more talking rocks."

-----

Thankfully, since a return scroll was sufficient to travel once more to El Nath, I was spared the trouble of confronting more talking rocks. I climbed up the cliff once more (my eyes shut) and once more found myself in the house of the third class instructors.

Ark proudly presented his red necklace to Tylus, and Ascion gave his to Robeira. I turned towards Rene and gave her my green-colored necklace. I saw the instructors grab my brothers' hands and at the same time I felt Rene grasp my own hand. She muttered some words under her breath, words I couldn't decipher.

Then there was an almighty flash of light and I felt a momentary sense of bliss. I felt…stronger. I was no longer the child who needed to be told how to use a bow or who had to stand aside while others slaughtered my prey.

I was a Ranger, at last.

After this was over, Rene let go of my hand, the faintest of smiles crossing her lips. "Congratulations, Zeraion."

"How do you know my name?" I stared.

"Athena is my sister. She's told me much about you."

"Oh…I see."

"Anyway…" She turned slightly away from me, crossing over to a nearby bookshelf. "This is a text for rangers like yourself. It should help you better understand our abilities. You can ask Athena to read through it with you if you don't understand it." Still with that faint smile on her lips, she turned away, leaving me to join up with Ark and Ascion.

Since night had fallen already, it would be foolish to attempt a trip home to Victoria, for that was when the Crimson Balrogs were most active. That being the case, my brothers and I paid a visit to Joe, Schuyler, and Iris at the mansion, preparing for tomorrow.

-----

"Blood Lancer!" Gault Isentryx roared, raising his Dragon Shinebow and flicking the string. A bolt of what seemed like pure darkness shot from his hands and speared several squids, killing them instantly. He smiled, darkly.

_Heh. This is child's play. I don't even need the Shinebow. _He put the bow in his quiver and raised his palm to another group of squids, slowly oozing towards him. One of them raised its tentacle and shot a burst of ink at him.

Gault did not blink as the mucky substance flowed around him; he rather enjoyed the foul, acrid taste of the inky water. Snapping his fingers, he roared, "Dark Reprisal!"

A blade of light, flashing both white and black in the water, shot from his palm and circumcised the first squid instantly. The rest, not wanting to trifle with this mysterious, powerful stranger, fled, squeaking in fear.

Gault sighed. "Even this is beginning to bore me a little. And I'm starting to tire of Gardner…he's always reluctant to accept my ideas. He doesn't understand that the bowmen need to regain their lost ground."

He smiled as he remembered the slaying of the girl that had dared to cross paths with him a week ago…what was her name again? Grace something-or-other? Well, it didn't matter. No one would have cried for her anyway. She had been using forbidden magic. Suited her right.

His gaze flickered over to a nearby cavern. _Wonder if Pianus' in. I need some amusement. _He drew his Shinebow; it had acquired a kind of evil aura and glowed silvery in the murky water. He glided softly through the dark sea, until he reached the cavern. It was pitch-black inside.

His eyes narrowed. _Not that it matters. I can see equally well in both light and dark…actually, preferably more so the latter. _Indeed, he detected the presence of a very large being, breathing slowly. Every time it exhaled, it let out a rush of water that unbalanced the ranger.

_Let's get this started. _He aimed the Shinebow into the darkness and roared, "Strafe!"

Four silvery arrows shot from his palm and soared straight into the darkness. Immediately, there was an unimaginable roar that descended from the depths of the cavern, signaling that Gault had hit his target.

Pianus, now thoroughly agitated, opened its mouth to retaliate; just as an enormous laser erupted from its mouth, Gault snapped his fingers and commanded, "Puppet!"

A huge figure materialized out of thin air and planted itself in front of Gault. Despite the sheer power of Pianus' attack, it was able to withstand the force of the blast. His fingers traveling to the string of his Shinebow again, Gault roared, "Inferno!"

A bolt of white-hot flame erupted from his fingers, instantly evaporating the water and creating an eerie trail as it traveled through the ocean. It struck Pianus right between the eyes; it howled and thrashed in anger as the smell of burnt fish lingered in the water. Pianus' eyes narrowed and it fired another blast at its attacker; to no avail, as Gault merely summoned another decoy to take the blast.

Gault then swam up to the massive thrashing fish; anyone else that had dared to do so would have had themselves bitten or sliced in half instantly, but Gault quickly weaved through the water, dodging all of the massive fish's fin slashes and bites. He planted his palm on the cold, scaly surface of Pianus' side and began to murmur some words that he had read some time ago in the Necromantica.

Slowly and horrifically, the flesh began to melt away under Gault's palm as a dark-purple lightning erupted from the wound; Pianus only writhed even greater in pain, its screams echoing through the whole ocean, but Gault merely sustained his spell until all that was left of the great doom flounder was a blackened, burnt skeleton.

He sighed. "What a bagatelle…Life is rather dull when you can take it away at a heartbeat." He dove into the massive skeleton of the fish and sorted through the ashes, until he found what he was looking for; a black-colored Arzuna robe. It shined with a unique dark aura that Gault could see, even in the pitch-dark of the cavern.

_Excellent. I had been tiring of this Ades, anyway. _He stripped off his Dark Ades and put his new robe on, only increasing his likeness to a rogue necromancer even more.

_Soon…once I acquire the gift of the dragons and become a bowmaster…the foolish warriors, magicians and thieves that dare oppose me will be no more._

He smiled, his mouth a cruel and twisted glimmer in the deep, dark seas of Ossyria.

_That will do. Perhaps those ignorant fools back at Henesys have missed me? Let's find out._

He closed his eyes, pursed his hands together, and murmured a line of ancient text. At once, an image began to form in his mind. Rathias Gardner, Delinia Arklanser, Traphes Igzarion, Natalia Arundale, and Rysdale Tales in his living room.

"_So…the formation of The Resistance…"_

"…_begins now."_

Gault's eyebrows raised in surprise; only for a moment, but surprise nevertheless.

_So…these fools dare to oppose me…it is a bitter fact, but no matter. I will have my comeuppance soon enough. I will let them live…for a while. This 'resistance' should be entertaining._

He opened his eyes for a moment, surrounded by the pitch-dark roaring water.

_And what of my dear Phoenix? _He closed his eyes and murmured the incantation again. Immediately, another image began to swim into view. It was a room, a darkened room. A bedroom? Yes, a bedroom…a bed with a figure sleeping soundly in it, a gold-colored Hinkel bow propped on the bedside. Zeraion Phoenix.

Gault severed the flow of magic, then relaxed. _So, he has become a ranger at long last. It seems an eternity since I met him. Perhaps…I can delve into his mind?_

Gault was only a novice at mind-reading- he preferred to study the more destructive forms of necromancy- but this did not belittle his other powers. Slowly, his mental probe delved into the sleeping boy's mind.

_What is this I sense…Hate…yes, a dangerous hate. A desire…the utmost desire to kill. Hatred…he bears malice towards someone. And sadness…I can feel his pain of having lost a loved one. _

_Who is it that he despises, to the point of death? Let me find out…_

A face swam into Gault's mind. Long, black hair. Red pupils. Pale skin.

For the second time, Gault's eyebrows raised in surprise.

_It…is me! Zeraion Phoenix wishes to kill me! But why…what could I have done to upset him? Unless…_

He delved further into Phoenix's memories, searching for his target. _Perhaps...the one he has lost…_

A blonde-haired young boy brandishing a Maple Soul Searcher one moment, his arm exploding the next, while a blonde female magician rushed over to help.

The same blonde-haired teenager stuttering in front of the same girl, she holding out a present to him…

The now-level 60 teenage hunter, clutching an Olympus, shouting at a mage up on a tree to come down…

The very same hunter, his face in his bloodied hands, weeping over a body on the crimson-stained ground…the body of a beautiful, blonde-haired woman…

_No! It can't be! Grace…_

A bolt of surprise flew through Gault, one he did not fully recover from instantly. _He…he despises me because of his petty love for a mage that deserved to die…_

_But he is a fearsome enemy. We share the bonds of Final Attack, and it is plausible; extremely far-fetched yet plausible, that he might, someday, grow powerful enough to defeat me…_

_So be it. I had hoped until the very end that Phoenix would be my ally, but today he reviles himself as a foe._

He clutched his Shinebow so hard his knuckles turned white. _As much as it pains myself to hear it…Zeraion Phoenix must die._

Slowly, the evil smile began to creep across his face again. _And I know exactly who shall deal the final blow._

-----

Rysdale Tales staggered up the stairs to his room in Gault's mansion. After the formation of The Resistance, the mood had considerably lightened, and he and the rest of the captains had downed a little alcohol. He himself had only consumed two glasses, but this was enough to make him slightly tipsy.

He quickly set aside his Marine Raven and changed himself into a nightgown, not having the energy to take a shower. Slowly, he fished out the small pendant that he carried always with him around his neck and opened it. Inside was a picture of himself and his older sister.

He smiled, caressing the picture, then snapped the pendant shut, took off his spectacles, and climbed into bed.

Just before sleep took him into its depths, he felt something alien touch his mind. _What the…_

The presence made itself well-known, jabbing itself into his mind so sharply that he awoke with a yelp of pain. _Who the hell is this?! Get out of my mind!_

_Ah, Rysdale…do you recognize me?_

The sniper froze, bolt upright. _Gault? Is that…_

_Don't play coy with me, Rysdale. I know perfectly well what you've done. You and the others I so painstakingly chose have betrayed me, just at a time when I needed you the most. It matters not, though. I have decided to let you live; for the moment._

_Gault…_ His message sounded extremely ominous. For the moment? _What have you contacted me for?_

_There is one other I speak of, that knows not of your plans, but dares to oppose me anyway. His name is Zeraion Phoenix._

_Phoenix? What does he have to do with all this?_

_Heh. If you must know…his hatred stems from the death of that girl. The one he brought to you four months ago._

_So…you did kill her!_

_That is aside the point; the point is that although I wished Zeraion to be my closest ally, instead we are now the bitterest of enemies. It pains me to realize this, but someone must deal the fatal blow, and I have chosen you._

_You want me…to kill Zeraion Phoenix?_

_Precisely._

_I…I can't do that! I won't! He's my best friend!_

_Consider what I am offering you, Rysdale. If you accept, I will save you alone from destruction when I crush your resistance of sorts. Is his life worth yours?_

_I…_

_If that will not sway you, then how about the life of another loved one? The one you treasure most dearly in your heart…_

_Who…do you mean? _

_Rysdale, do you not know…or have you forgotten that you are not the only one who knows your deepest, darkest secret? Is that why you have hidden her from the rest of the world?_

_How…how the hell did you find that out?!_

_In much the same way that I contacted you and am now speaking to you with. But I hope I have made my point clear. Kill Zeraion Phoenix, and I will spare you and everything you hold dear. If not, Rysdale…then I will kill her, and there is nothing you can do about it._

There was no sound in the room, save for Tales' heavy, labored breathing.

_Consider my offer, Rysdale._

The voice melted away into the dark night.

-----

Author's Note: Well, if you liked this _looong_ chapter, then you're gonna love the next one :D

Now, I'm not going to be so drastic as Master and Chief and Arbiter and impose a review quota, but I will simply say this: I am a very lazy person, not to mention that I have to balance massive amounts of schoolwork, and since I got hacked I don't play MS anymore, so I can't write very often.

Reviews give me inspiration; inspiration kills my writer's block. If you're starting to put two and two together, just click the blue button in the left-hand corner of your screen. You know you want to.

(And by the way, one-liner comments like 'Nice story d00d' and 'update soon pl0x' don't really serve as good inspiration fodder. Constructive criticism and thoughtful encouragement is welcomed. Flames will be mocked.)

-Kal Ancalas

* * *

(Bonus Cutscene! Yay!)

Okay, out of boredom, I decided to make an explanation of the characters' names in this story. Maybe that's what some of you have been wondering as well. It also might be a good cure for boredom.

Zeraion Phoenix: As stated in the first chapter, taken from my ranger ZerPhoenix74 that was hacked. Oh well, it's not like I could do much more with him anyway, what with schoolwork, academia-crazed parents, and all that, but I still miss him. (sob)

Joe, Schuyler and Grace: Real names of real people that I met in my Bera career on MS, and whom I've befriended. I have more deserving friends who deserve a place in this story, but I didn't want to clutter up the plot with too many of those. Sorry guys :P

Ark Wolfen and Ascion Blade: In addition to my level 80 Ranger, I also had a level 41 fighter and a level 31 cleric on Bera. Hence the names and the 'brotherly' connection that the three have. Incidentally, the inspiration for the name "Ark Wolfen" comes from an author on FF who wrote Star Fox fiction; I think he's long retired. (I didn't actually read his story but I thought his pen name was cool.)

Gault Isentryx: Like a slew of other things, this popped into my head while practicing piano (Boredom is the mother of invention.) I needed a villain for this new fic that I was creating, and out of nowhere, the name Gault just simply came into my mind. Additionally, all villains need last names with lots of consonants, so that's where his last name emerged from as well. Originally, I had planned to have Gault as one of the protagonists, but I eventually went "What the hell, we already have too many good guys and I don't want to think of another name, let's make him a bad guy."

Rysdale Tales: I was watching some clips of Tales of the Abyss one day and I noticed how kick-ass Jade Curtiss looks, so I made a character based on him, except a little younger. Incidentally, I don't pronounce his last name like in "Tales of the whatever," I pronounce it like the word 'tales' as in substitute jurors. (Plug it into and you'll see what I mean.) Originally, he was slated to be a ranger, but I already had too many of those, so I gave him a crossbow. The idea stuck.

Traphes Igzarion: I was screwing around with Yu-Gi-Oh Destiny Board Traveler (Which is the worst game in the world. Trust me.) and I saw a card called "Exzarion Universe" or something along those lines. I was rather taken by the name and decided to plagiar-ahem, borrow it. And just in case people noticed the similarity, I gave him the nickname "Iggy."

Natalia Arundale: Another character that draws inspiration from Tales of the Abyss. Loosely modeled after that archer girl with the extremely long name. Heck, I even stole her first name; Namco, pl0x don't sue me.

Delinia Arklanser: Based off of Lt. Riza Hawkeye in FullMetal Alchemist, in both attitude and skill with ranged weapons, but their looks are totally different. Seriously, I don't know where her name came from. Probably another one of those piano revelations that came out of nowhere.

Rathias Gardner: Totally in the blank for this one. I really don't know how I got this. It was just in my head one day, and out of boredom I put it in.

Ryden: Comes from Master and Chief and Arbiter's story, The Lone Crusader. His presence is explained at the beginning of the chapter; however, he doesn't have much of a major role until much later in the story.

Dariel Marron: When I was one of those little kids boozed up on anime like Pokemon and Digimon, I drew comics (Not manga, mind you, just stick figures) with people beating the crap out of each other. One of the character's names was Darius Maron (who bore a surprising resemblance to Cloud of Final Fantasy, with humongous sword and all). I was digging through some old crap in my room one day and found it, and I just went, "What the hell, put him in."

Keiga Seles: In Tales of Symphonia, Seles is the name of Zelos Wilder's reclusive half-sister. I liked the name, but giving a male character a girl's name would be kind of stupid in retrospect, so I was stuck with that, until I was surfing through manga spoilers out of boredom one day. One of the names that caught my eye was Keiga, and I added two and two together.


	7. Rysdale's Secret

**Chapter 7**

Author's Note: I hadn't believed it possible, but here it is, folks; the longest chapter yet, at 40 pages. Naturally, it's got lots of action and stuff like that.

In other words, congrats to me for:

1.) Getting 1000 hits on this story

2.) Beating out Flames of the Uprising as the longest story on FF's Maple section…and it's still not finished yet.

Anyway, er, Master and Chief and Arbiter won't be updating, as you very well know, because in an email he sent me, he unfortunately got banned from using his PC until February. Gives me plenty of time to kill off his character…eep, you didn't hear anything!

I'll save the rest of this cruddy note for later; just read the story. (I'm sure you're all interested in what happens to the poor sniper.)

* * *

As soon as we had reached Joe's house, or penthouse, rather, I had had to bang on the door several times before a very grumpy and tired-looking hermit answered it. Nevertheless, he offered us rest for the night without any complaint; I was grateful for his friendship.

The next morning, I woke up as the sun streamed into my eyes, reflecting off the newly-fallen snow and painfully piercing under my eyelids. I ended up tangling myself in the bedspread and screaming bloody murder before I managed to find some common sense and extricate myself. Thankfully, everyone else was still very much asleep.

I glanced around; today was another day. I changed from my dressing gown into my Linnex and sat on the edge of the bed, taking out the textbook that Rene had given me the previous day. I had totally forgotten about it in the exhaustion of the previous day, but now was a good time to read through it.

Unlike my basic archer and hunter's manuals, which were fairly short and the size of picture books, my ranger's text was about the size of a dictionary. I raised an eyebrow as I hefted it for the first time; what could possibly be in here that required so much mention?

I got my answer when I flipped through the pages. A cloud of dust flew up into the air; I suspected the book had not been used for quite a while. I quickly skimmed the table of contents; unlike the previous books I had which devoted a page or two to each technique, each of my ranger's abilities spanned a whole chapter.

My eyes read the techniques eagerly. Thrust, Mortal Blow, Puppet, Inferno, Arrow Rain, Silver Hawk, and Strafe. So many new powers…I'd seen them all before but for the first time, I could actually use them.

_Thrust, the ability that grants one the speed of a ray of light._

_Mortal Blow, the skill that one can use to deliver death in a single strike._

_Puppet, the technique that shields its user from all attacks, both physical and magical._

_Inferno, the power to imbue arrows with the destructive force of flame._

_Arrow Rain, the attack that sends forth countless shafts from the heavens to pierce the enemies._

_Silver Hawk, the gift to summon a bird of prey to aid one in their battles._

_Strafe, the four-pronged assault that pierces all defenses._

_Which one to master first?_

I immediately discounted Thrust; my speed and agility were already far advanced beyond my years. I darkly skimmed over Mortal Blow, the voice of a certain ranger still echoing ominously in my ears. Puppet looked nice in theory, but I didn't feel like summoning doppelgangers quite yet. I considered Inferno; being able to finally summon fire from my fingers like the other rangers would be quite a blessing, not to mention that a flame-enchanted Final Attack would be the equivalent of a superweapon in my hands. I smiled to myself.

Arrow Rain looked good on paper, but as I quickly discovered, I'd need to be able to use Mortal Blow to be able to learn it. Silver Hawk was also out of the question, as I'd need Puppet. And lastly, Strafe; being able to shoot four arrows at once would definitely be an undeniably essential ability, but would it be a priority when I already had Final Attack?

It was essentially a contest in my head between Inferno and Strafe. After a fair amount of deliberation, I chose Inferno; Strafe could easily be mastered later, but for the moment I wanted the gift of fire. Besides, a Double Shot/Final Attack combo was plenty powerful enough for me.

So be it. I pressed my hands together and read the text on the musty pages. _Focus your energy. Feel the fire burning inside of you…Channel it, harness it, manipulate the flames inside of you. Bring them to your fingertips and release the magic._

I concentrated harder than I'd ever done before, surpassing even my desire to master Final Attack. Unfortunately, all that happened was that I merely looked constipated. I couldn't even feel anything resembling fire inside of me; perhaps something had gone wrong.

_Try again. You didn't do Final Attack perfectly on your first try either. Now concentrate!_

…Jeez, just when exactly did I start developing a conscience? Never mind. I closed my eyes, parting my hands, trying to focus the fire inside of me.

Again, no luck. I was becoming very frustrated; I'd been training for six years, and this is what it all came to? In a fit of anger, I flung my arm outwards.

A flash of flame, brighter than the sun, leapt out from my outstretched palm and flickered in the air for a precious second before it dissipated. It was a quick rush, but I had seen it. I was ecstatic; now, how to control this power?

I stared at myself in the mirror for a bit before pressing my palms together. Maybe a vocal incantation would help; I flicked my wrist and murmured, "Inferno!"

A plume of fire appeared from my fingertips; I focused on the bright blaze, attempting to sustain it for as long as possible. I lasted a few seconds before the magic died out, leaving me panting.

_Not bad. _I decided to try a different tack; I held my arm out in front of me and closed my eyes, letting the magic flow. Instinctively, I flicked my wrist and snapped my fingers, while saying, "Inferno!"

A blast of flame shot from my fingertips and slammed into the mirror; I yelped in shock as the flame erupted from my hand. It didn't feel hot, but it carried a kind of ticklish, unique feeling. Thankfully, the mirror was strong enough to resist the heat of the blast.

An idea came to me. _Perhaps… _I snapped my fingers while concentrating; a few lively sparks shot into the air. Then, I began to concentrate and flicked my wrist, snapping my fingers while murmuring "Inferno!" Another small bolt of flame licked at the mirror.

After some more experimentation, I realized that snapping my fingers was enough to create sparks; flicking my wrist would send a bolt of flame in whatever direction I was aiming for, and concentrating with my fingers out (as indicated in the textbook) would create a stationary pillar of fire that I could wield as I wished. I couldn't sustain the fire for very long, but I hoped that with practice my abilities would get better.

I gingerly touched the surface of the glass mirror; to my slight chagrin, it was barely warm. Either Joe had really good mirrors, or I was overestimating my elemental capabilities.

I heard some doors open and close; apparently, the rest of the household had awoken. Sighing, I drew my gloves over my hands and went down to join the rest of the people for some breakfast.

-----

The next morning did not pass well for Tales. He had experienced several nightmares and woken up in a horrible daze, his bedsheets soaked in sweat. He tried to convince himself that what he'd gone through was the result of too much alcohol, but he couldn't deny what he'd heard.

He quickly took a shower and changed into his uniform, then slid his crossbow into his quiver and anxiously trudged downstairs for a quick bite to eat.

"You look downtrod, Rysdale." Gardner said as he approached. "Something wrong?"

"No, not at all." Tales sighed, but he shot Gardner an I-need-to-talk-to-you-in-private-later look. Gardner caught the sniper's expression and answered with only the faintest of nods. Tales sighed; if he felt he could trust anyone at the table, it would be Rathias Gardner.

After the hurried repast was over, Tales motioned the elder ranger aside. "What do you need to talk about?" Gardner asked in a low whisper.

Tales shot a nervous glance around the quickly-emptying room, then continued. "I had a kind of…vision last night."

"Define 'vision'." he said.

"I mean Gault popped into my head and threatened me to kill Phoenix, or else he'd kill…her." he said, bluntly.

It was the first time Tales had seen Rathias Gardner express anything resembling surprise; however, he managed to resume his façade. "You're not kidding?" he said, sharply.

"Rathias, I wouldn't be kidding about something like this." Tales said emotionlessly.

Gardner seemed lost in thought for a tense moment. Tales could see his forehead wrinkle slightly. Finally, he asked, "Did he sound serious?"

"I've never heard him more serious in my life."

"And he knows your…secret?"

"How couldn't he? He probably knows everything in my head now."

Gardner swore. "He reads the Necromantica fast." He resumed his thoughtful expression; finally, he shook his head and simply said, "Be on your guard. It'll be a bad lookout if Gault manages to hypnotize you or something. But whatever happens, keep your wits about you."

"What about his…threat?"

Gardner eyed the sniper darkly before responding, "Do whatever suits you best, Rysdale." He then took out his Shinebow and left, his cape swishing in the air as he took his leave.

Tales stood in silence in the great hall for a moment, then merely shook his head, his long amber hair cascading around his shoulders, and unsheathed his crossbow. Slowly, he walked outside onto the archery grounds.

-----

As I went downstairs, I found the atmosphere fairly spirited; everyone eating happily and talking, except for Ark, who looked very tired. Joe raised a hand in greeting as I came downstairs and offered me some toast; I accepted it in kind.

"Wow, that looks really cool…" Schuyler watched enviously as Ascion formed a globe of light in his palms. "I wish I could be a mage already…I hate studying."

"Well, you're not going to get anywhere just sitting around." Ascion replied calmly, the globe of light disappearing.

She pouted. "Don't remind me."

"You guys returning to Victoria, then?" Joe asked.

"Yes." I nodded. Ark and Ascion followed suit.

"Well…" He took a glance at his watch. "You have about ten minutes to catch the next ship, so I'd suggest you put that toast down and start running."

"Alright." I murmured. "Thanks for all your help, Joe."

"No problem, Zer." he sighed, waving us out.

-----

The Cursed Victorian Sanctuary. Just the very name sends most residents of the world into shivers.

Deep underneath the forest soil of Sleepywood, there is a deep tunnel, hallowed out by the monsters eons ago. They call it the Ant Tunnel; closed to the public for a long time until some brave adventurers cleared out a large section of the tunnel for training purposes. Now, the Ant Tunnel has become an informal training spot where people gather to kill mushrooms and chat with their friends.

Beyond that, though, there is a cavern guarded by hordes of bloodthirsty Evil Eyes; any humans that dare to venture there immediately are swarmed by the yellow critters, and few make it out alive. Those that are skilled enough to brave the beasts press on, until they reach the inner part of the Victoria Dungeon, where the rocks turn blue due to the extreme cold.

The Evil Eyes there grow accustomed to the cold, their skin turning white; and they have been accompanied by the drakes, biological cousins of the flame-hardened dragons that reside near Perion. It is a fearsome place to traverse, but what lies ahead is far more dangerous still.

The fearsome Wild Cargo (spelled Kargo in some dialects) roams about the deepest parts of the dungeon, looking for a fresh snack. Those that have braved the Evil Eyes, the Cold Eyes and the drakes rush into the deepest parts of the sepulcher only to be devoured by a passing Cargo.

But for those truly inclined, the most treacherous part of the adventure awaits; the Sanctuary itself, built untold centuries ago by the rogue necromancers that roamed the land to summon the ancient devils of lore. The necromancers are long gone, but their arts still remain, and their lost creations still wander the ancient ruins, looking for revenge on any wayfaring humans that dare to cross their path.

All in all, the Sanctuary was not a very pleasant place to be, so it was news indeed to the ears of the Wild Cargos when they heard footsteps echoing across the stone caverns; perhaps some fresh meat was nearby.

Indeed, a human figure's silhouette appeared in the entrance to the cavern; quickly, the Cargos lunged, but the figure merely raised its palm, murmured a few lines in an undecipherable tongue, and the Cargos fell neatly to the ground, dead.

The lone figure pressed on, its footsteps continuing to echo across the halls of the dungeon. No other sound could be heard, save for an occasional roar of a Cargo followed by a flash of dark purple light, and then a silence.

The figure then approached a massive stone door set at the exit to the cave; he ran his palm across it. It was locked and sealed with enchantments wrought years ago, determined to prevent unwary travelers from venturing further and perishing.

This did not deter the man standing there; he flicked his wrist and hissed words in a sharp tongue. The door exploded in a flash of silver flame, scorched fragments of rubble scattering across the dungeon floor. And yet, the mysterious adventurer continued on through the dungeon.

The Tauromacis and Taurospears, remnants of the necromancers' cursed experiments, heard the door explode and they all turned their horned heads to see a single figure emerge through the wreckage of the once-impregnable stone wall.

The nearest Taurospear charged at the figure, its heavy crystal spear in hand, but the figure merely raised two fingers and made a slashing movement in the air. The huge beast suddenly stopped and collapsed to the ground, its blood flowing from a gash in its chest.

The half-bull beasts stared, awed for a moment, then all of them charged together, reasoning one man could not stop a herd of angry Tauros, spears in hand.

The man simply raised his hand to something on his back; a dim beam of light illuminated it. It was a quiver, complete with a bow. Even as the Tauros charged at him, he took his time, unsheathing his weapon and stringing it.

Then he raised it to the air, and muttered in a harsh voice, "Psi Crush Rain!"

Innumerable flashes of black light rose into the air, a kind of light that was darkness itself, and hovered in the air for a moment before returning furiously to earth. Each time a shard of the unnatural darkness struck a beast, it keeled over instantly; finally, the Tauros all lay lifeless in the dust. Satisfied, the man leapt over the fallen corpses and ventured towards the next gate of the Sanctuary.

His footsteps echoed eerily over the seemingly empty sanctuary, his emotionless eyes scanning the lifeless landscape. It seemed deserted, but he was willing to wait. He had all of eternity before him.

The man took a book from his jacket pocket and flipped through it; finally, he eyed a page with some derision. "The point when the full moon is at its highest…this is when the ceremony begins."

Indeed, as soon as he'd finished talking, a pair of crimson slits showed themselves in the shadows of the ruins, and then the footsteps thumped against the stone.

The man barely raised his head, and watched solemnly as the figures emerged from the shadows; tall, hulking, at least ten times higher than he himself was. The bloodstains accumulated over untold years stained their claws and teeth a permanent black. Bones crunched underneath their feet as they walked.

The were the Balrogs; created eons ago by the rogue necromancers wishing to summon the devil; although the spells didn't quite have the desired effect, the resulting beasts were still terrifyingly powerful; they rounded on their masters and threatened to destroy all of Victoria Island. In fact, it had been they who had broken Victoria Island into its two pieces, leaving only a fragment of the original utopia while the majority of the continent drifted away to form the bitter land of Ossyria.

The man watched all of this with a derisive sneer, only silently staring as the demons tramped out. It was the time of the year when the moon was at its highest in the sky and the Balrogs came out to gather their power.

Suddenly, one of the huge demons gave a grunt. It spoke in undecipherable grunts and snarls, but the man could understand its language. _I smell a filthy human!_

Another Balrog gave a kind of noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a roar. _Very well, we shall feast upon his body tonight. Where is he?_

_There! _The Balrog extended its black claw towards where the man had been a split-second ago; except now, there was nothing except the air. _What..? Where has he gone?!_

Its companion gave a grunt. _Don't waste my time with your foolish hallucinations._

_But I can smell him! He is here, somewhere!_

Suddenly, there was a flash of black light, and the Balrog screamed in pain and horror, its insides spewing onto the ground. The others watched in amazement as a human figure stood behind the fallen demon, his palm raised.

"You won't be smelling much of anything now, you filthy _harzwarg!_" the man roared, his palm still flickering with evil energy.

A hush fell over the demons; no human alive knew their secret language. One brave demon stepped up; it roared in its harsh language, _Human, why are you here?!_

The Balrog raised its claw and a bolt of pure dark energy shot towards the man; with a loud, sickening crack, the bolt ripped through the figure, causing blood and flesh to splatter everywhere. The Balrog roared in triumph. _Foolish human, do you really think you can stand to defeat us?_

There was a sudden roar of "Dark Reprisal!", and the Balrog suddenly fell silent and slumped to the floor in two halves, while the lone figure stood safely in the distance.

_Yes, I can stand to defeat you. You'll have to attack much faster than that if you stand a chance of even scratching me, you filthy dogs. What you destroyed was only a doppelganger; a rather accurate copy, with flesh and blood, but it was all an illusion. Now submit, or I shall strike each and every one of you dead and return you to your graves._

The Balrogs fell silent, glancing at the bloodied remains of their two companions on the stone floor. Finally, one managed to growl in a tone stained with fear: _Who…are you, human?_

The man barely glanced up before responding, _My assumed name is Gault Isentryx; I shall not reveal to you my true, hidden identity, unless you wish an early burial._

_Why have you come?_

_Like all creatures of evil, your power is at its greatest when the full moon rises. An unfortunate series of events has led me to seek your assistance…or rather, I should say, your strength. You are one of the strongest species that populate this world; although your power pales in comparison to mine, it shall still be enough._

_Our power is not for the mortal humans of this world._

_I'll decide that for you. _The man flicked his wrist and the Balrog fell to the ground, screaming in pain; finally, it gave a deathly growl and fell silent, its body still spasming.

_I was foolish enough to trust those of my race; the humans, weak as they might be, also possess power, but they have not the capability of controlling it. Those which I have once allied myself with have betrayed me._

_It is this weakness and foolishness that is my purpose; I wish to ameliorate the human race. The warriors, magicians, and thieves of this world have scorned us ever since there has been life on this earth. It is my duty to correct this terrible imbalance; never again will our arrows be broken by the cruel acts of the lesser clans. _Upon finishing this ominous speech, the Balrogs could see that a bow was hitched across the man's back.

_The Shinebow…_

_Yes, I wield this great weapon; even without it I could easily overwhelm the lot of you. However, your power only stands to augment mine. Alone, I could easily slaughter a hundred, a thousand trained fighters; however, even I cannot stand against the might of the combined world._

_That is why I seek the aid of the monsters; aid me, and you shall rule the world once more. Refuse my offer, and you will rest in purgatory, as will all those who dare to oppose me._

The Balrogs stared at one another; certainly, giving this _human _their power was a travesty, but as they glanced at the remains of their kin lying on the floor, refusal was not an option. Slowly, the largest of them all, the leader, walked forward. _We accept._

The man's face broke out into a cruel smile. _Excellent. Now, I have one order of business for you._

-----

Thanks to a handful of Orbis Tower Scrolls, the trip to Sixtopia Station was negotiated in double-quick time, and we arrived at the port with four minutes to spare.

"So, what did you guys learn?" Ark sighed, hitching his axe over his shoulder.

"Not much." Ascion said, flicking his wrist and summoning a blinding flash of blue-white light. "Just a little Shining Ray to pep those zombies up."

"Oh, I just learned to light things on fire." I shrugged casually, flicking my wrist and causing a brilliant flash of orange flame to leap in the air for a second.

"Ah, that's nice." He sighed. "Last night was a nightmare. I didn't get any sleep."

"What were you doing up all night, bro?" Ascion asked.

"Training." He ran his hand through his raven-black hair.

"You _trained _all night?" Both Ascion and mine's jaws dropped to the deck of the ship.

"Yes." He sighed. "I wasn't satisfied with just Combo Attack, so I spent a few hours last night working on Panic. The zombies are very active past midnight, and training was nice."

"How did you manage?" I asked, not sure how he'd survived without getting eaten.

"Oh, I bought a lot of red bean soup." Ark yawned behind his hand. "Helps you stay awake. Anyway…even though I've only gotten used to it, I've been able to blow stuff away with it. Can't wait until 72."

I sighed. Stupid older brother, now both Ascion and I were behind him once again. Besides us, I noted the usual stream of warriors, magicians, and thieves, mostly level 40-60, boarding the ship. Previously, I would have stared at them with awe; now they looked…unexperienced and weak. It was interesting to note how a few years had totally changed my perspective of things.

There was a huge roar and a cloud of steam as the engines flickered into life, and we were up into the air, headed home for Victoria Island. Most of the people went into the hold of the ship; Ark, Ascion, and I, as well as a few others, stayed on the deck, enjoying the feeling of the sweet breeze against our skin. It was interesting that I could enjoy something as petty as staring into the sky, but…I supposed it was due to all the growth I'd experienced these past years.

I wasn't a child anymore.

The clouds grew thicker; I turned to Ascion, slightly worried. "You think it's going to rain?"

"Doesn't look like it." he said, continuing to stare at the clouds. "If it were, the moisture in the air would have grown denser."

I stared dumbly at him. "Geek."

"Don't be jealous just because you have the mental capability of a teaspoon, Zer." he sighed, turning away from me.

A vein in my forehead began to bulge. "A _teaspoon?! _Come here, you little jerk, I'll show you-"

Thus, I began to chase him all around the ship, while Ark and the others watched with amusement. Reliving those childhood days as usual; he had nowhere near my dexterity, but his teleportation ability made up for it.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of rumbling thunder. "I _told _you it was going to rain!" I laughed at him.

"That's not natural thunder, Zer." he said, his face growing pale. A sense of discontent began to settle on our faces.

"Well, if it's not natural thunder, then what exactly could it be?" I shot at him.

My question was answered when a massive ship, decked out in a black sail and studded with gigantic steel spikes, crowded with several Crimson Balrogs, emerged from the now-darkened clouds.

-----

"Oh, shit." I heard someone mutter. I heard the sound of scurrying footsteps as the other people dashed to the hold, leaving only Ark, Ascion and myself behind.

"What can we do?" I asked, my face turning pale.

"It's not going to do any good hiding like the rest of them." Ark sighed. "We're third-classers now. It's our duty to protect the weak and fight evil."

"You only say that because you're a warrior." I muttered, but I strung my Hinkel without complaint.

Another peal of thunder sounded, followed by a flash of purple lightning. The head of the pirate ship loomed closer and closer. A few beads of nervous sweat began to slide down the back of my neck. I heard Ascion take out his wand and murmur a quick prayer in some language I couldn't understand. "Elvish." he muttered, catching the look on my face.

Slowly, the ship neared us until I could see the facial expressions of the Balrogs riding it; cruel, twisted faces, stained with blood. My heart was throbbing so hard it hurt, but I could only watch helplessly as the Balrogs neared our ship, then docked, a loud sound of wood hitting wood as the two ships banged against each other.

The nearest Balrog spoke. At first, it was a series of non-understandable growls and snarls, but I could eventually discern some words from its noise.

_We…seek…one…_

Clearly, the human tongue was not something on these guys' list of strong points. I roared, "One what, exactly?"

It raised its face and glared at me, a chilling, bloodied stare that shook me to my feet. "_You! You are the one we seek…the one our master has commanded us to seize…"_

If there was any doubt in my head about who exactly these guys were seeking, it was dispelled when the Balrog tossed its head, gave a grunt, and roared, "_Zeraion…Phoenix!"_

"You can have my brother when you step over my cold, dead, body!" Ark roared, his axe drawn and pointing at the demons. My blood turned cold. _Ark…don't screw around with those guys…_

The Balrog only laughed, its voice cruelly riving against my eardrums. "_Your proposal is acceptable, human." _It raised a claw and chanted something unrecognizable.

A bolt of dark lightning burst from the sky, flying towards Ark; he managed to shout, "Power Guard!" just as Ascion roared, "Invincible!" The two spells managed to absorb much of the damage; Ark skidded backwards along the deck, winded but still in fighting condition.

"Alright." He spat on the deck. "Zer, stay close. Ascion, you heal and defend. Ready?"

He was speaking to us in a clear-cut tone, as though this was a practice drill of some sort and not a real battle with demons that could kill us at any moment. My mouth as dry as stone, I managed to swallow and say, "Yeah."

"Then let's go!" Ark roared, jumping into the air, his Chrono raised. "Combo Attack…Panic!"

Brilliant seals of light flashed around Ark as he jumped; a green-blue vortex of energy began to swirl around his axe as he leapt towards the Balrog. He brought his weapon down with a massive slash; his powerful attack ripped a gash in the Balrog's chest.

_It's now or never. _I raised my hand to my bow and murmured, "Soul Arrow…Bow Booster!" Before the Balrog could react, I concentrated harder than I'd ever done before, and murmured, "Inferno…Double Shot!"

Flames leapt from my hands and formed themselves into two brilliant shafts of heat, poised in my hands. The strain on my mind was huge, but I released the arrows, twanging the string. The blades of flame shot out furiously and slammed the Balrog in the chest, causing a tremendous set of explosions and killing it.

I was stunned. _Did I just do that? _I had no time to dwell on it before another Balrog soared at me; without pausing to think, I raised my bow, the awesome amount of wild magic soaring about me, and focused. "Final Attack!"

A brilliant orb of flame, so hot I could feel the extreme heat, gathered at the fore of my bow; with some difficulty, I let go of the string. A pure, orange-white bolt of flame erupted from my hands, striking the demon in the chest. It let out a wail as its life was forfeit; even as I watched, the beam continued on, striking and killing another Balrog before landing a massive, smoking hole in the demon ship.

I panted, falling to my knees on the deck; the attack had been stupendously powerful, but the energy that it had required had completely taxed my body. _Is this…what Final Attack can do…with a third-class ability?_

Ascion dashed over to me; another Balrog soared at him and he whipped his wand out, repelling it with a shout of "Shining Ray!" It clutched at its eyes in pain and he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Zer, come on. Come on! You have to get up! Heal!"

Ascion's magic flowed through my body, relieving some of my fatigue and healing the burn marks on my arms. I managed to stagger to my feet; Ark was dueling a Balrog ferociously, protected by Ascion's enchantment, but there was no telling how long the magic would last.

"Inferno…Arrow Blow!" I roared, raising my bow. The spectral arrow left my bow, orange-red flames leaping from it instead of blue, and slammed into the Balrog's head at full force. I felt the magic again but I neglected to use Final Attack; doing so would only drain what little energy I had left.

A Balrog raised its claw and murmured an incantation; a bolt of dark lightning struck the deck of the ship and it burst into flames. _Dammit! If this ship goes down, we're all done for…_ I used a Double Shot/Final Attack combo to wound the offender; a few Shining Ray blasts from Ascion finished him off.

Ark cleaved a few more slashes in the fourth Balrog that dared to approach us; I brought it down with Double Shot, followed by a Final Attack. Ascion quickly healed me, then ran to Ark to help. Not many Balrogs had appeared on this ship, so we only had to hold out for a little while longer.

_Dammit…Even with my Ranger title, I still can't kill these beasts off easily! _Having no time to launch an arrow, I lashed out at the nearest Balrog. "Inferno…Power Knock-Back!" My flaming bow suddenly turned into a dangerous melee weapon as I jammed my bow into its eyes; it gave a howl of pain, temporarily blinded. I sunk six arrows into it, finishing it off. There were only two more Balrogs left. I suspected that they hadn't expected to encounter anyone high-leveled other than me on this ship.

Without hesitation, Ark launched himself at the first of the two Balrogs, roaring, "Power Strike…Final Attack!" He cleaved two deep wounds in its side; Ascion shielded a lightning blast from the other demon, then blasted it with a ray of white light. I finished it off with three more arrows, in quick succession, then turned to the last one.

I almost felt a kind of pity for it as it stared at me, its comrades slain. It did not raise its claw to attack, but only glanced at me, waiting for death.

_It seems…we have underestimated…your capabilities…So, it is true…_

"What?" I yelled, my arm tensed as I prepared to release an arrow. "What do you mean? What's true?!"

The Balrog only stared sadly at me for another second before murmuring, "_Isentryx…"_

Then Ascion and Ark charged at it in succession, raining Panic and Shining Ray upon it; soon it was no more. I could only stare at where it had been, pondering its last words.

…_Gault?_

Ascion ran to me. "Zer! You all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine…" I muttered, even though I wasn't. "You all right?"

"Yeah." He ruffled his slightly scorched brown hair. "They're all dead now. Don't worry." It felt weird, my younger brother speaking words of reassurance to me.

"Where's Ark?"

"He's fine." Ascion sighed. "We got a little blown off course, but the captain says we'll be in Ellinia in about fifteen minutes."

"That's good to heard." I pulled myself up, my footsteps echoing across the bloodstained deck as I watched the sails of the pirate ship, still docked, fluttering in the wind.

_Isentryx…Gault?_

_How many Isentryxes do you know, Zer? _

I sighed; leave it to my conscience to give me a reality check. _I don't want to believe it…after all, even someone like Gault subjugating the Crims sounds a little crazy, but…there's no other possibility._

_And I will have to face him. I have to kill him, for Grace's sake, and for everyone else's as well._

"…Damn it!" I lashed out angrily, sending a bolt of fire hurtling at the pirate ship; it exploded with a bang, the remnants of the craft toppling into the sea below. Ark and Ascion glanced at me uneasily.

"Something on your mind, Zer?" Ark called. One of the Balrogs had left a nasty gash in his chest, but Ascion was tending to it.

I sighed. I needed Athena's guidance now, more than ever. Raising my head, I felt the roar of the newly-rejeuvenated engines, and we zoomed off into the horizon.

-----

"When's Captain Phoenix getting back from Ossyria?" Triton asked.

"I'm telling you, I don't know!" Tales roared, rumpling his long hair in frustration. "And if you ask me one more time, you're going to run another mile, got it?"

"Okay, okay." Triton muttered, lowering his head.

Tales cast a glance at the sun, shining brightly overhead. He rubbed some sweat off of his forehead, wondering what to do with the gang of unruly kids that Phoenix had left behind. "Alright, we've done running, stretching, distance…ah. Marksmanship." He snapped his fingers and murmured, "Puppet!"

A series of straw-filled dummies popped out of thin air onto the archery range; Tales nodded and the kids got into a line. "All right…A thousand feet shouldn't be any problem for you. Get on it." The kids grumbled, but readied their weapons.

Triton raised his Olympus bow to his shoulder and murmured, "Soul Arrow!" He drew back the string and let the arrow fly. It soared through the air and speared the first puppet through the head neatly.

"Good job." Tales nodded. "Now, you next, Kalen."

The crossbowman nodded, took his newly-bought Rower in hand, and said "Soul Arrow!" as well. He then loaded the spectral bolt into his weapon and fired; his aim was accurate and he caught the puppet in the chest. Tales nodded again. "At least Phoenix hasn't ruined you too badly. You next." he said, pointing at Sophia on the grass.

"You know, Captain Tales, I have a name." the huntress scowled.

Tales returned her glare. "Don't be fresh." She bit her lip, muttered, "Soul Arrow…" and raised her bow. She released the string a bit too roughly, the arrow soaring forward and slamming right into the puppet's neck as the string broke and whipped across her palm.

"Ow!" she moaned. Tales rolled his eyes and motioned for Sephan to get up while taking a small roll of bandage from his pocket and tossing it at her.

"Tales' mean." she muttered to Erlanger, lying on the ground.

"I heard that." the sniper sighed. "And believe me, it's no picnic to instruct you little idiots when I could be having lunch, but no…" He threw his hands up in the air. "Seriously, what exactly does Phoenix let you do, have tea parties all day?"

"He teaches us fencing." Erlanger muttered, picking up a twig from the ground and waving it like a sword for a moment.

Tales raised an eyebrow. "He what?"

"Fencing. He said it's an important skill to have in close-combat situations."

Tales sighed. Fencing, seriously? "Well, that's nice, but I think you'll rely more on Power Knock-back than waving a sword around. You're not a warrior, you know." After a few attempts, Sephan finally managed to hit the puppet, and Tales motioned for Erlanger to get up. "You next."

Erlanger shook his sleeves back, then picked up his Vaulter 2000 and nocked a sleek arrow to it. Tales sighed. "Don't you have Soul Arrow?"

Erlanger gave Tales a look. "Yes, but Captain Phoenix said that using real arrows helps you train better."

Tales rolled his eyes again; did this kid idolize Zeraion Phoenix or what? He merely waved a hand as a sign for him to shoot.

Erlanger released the arrow. "Arrow Blow!"

His arrow soared into the air, flashing blue, and fell short of the puppet by about 150 feet. However, before Tales had an opportunity to get mad, Erlanger drew another arrow and roared, "Final Attack!"

The arrow shone orange and flew the whole length of the strip before catching the puppet right in the head and exploding, showering bits of puppet everywhere. Everyone turned to stare at the young hunter with an amazed expression.

"Erlanger…What the hell?" Triton said in a very sour voice. "You know Captain Phoenix told us _not _to do that, under any circumstances!" He seized ahold of the young boy's arm and drew back the sleeve of his Piette; sure enough, the arm beneath was mottled with scars, including a fresh one that had just been opened.

"I had no choice!" Erlanger shot back at the rest of his team. "I was sick and tired of the rest of you teasing me…"

"Well…" Triton bit his tongue. "Maybe so, but that wasn't any reason for you to use Final Attack…"

"It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "I'll never be as good as Captain Phoenix with it, anyway."

Finally, Tales managed to regain control of the group. "All right, you all did very well. You can head off to lunch now. Erlanger, take this." He took the roll of bandage from Sophia and gave it to the hunter. He watched balefully as they left for the lunch hall, still bickering noisily.

Stupid kids, they'd never understand him. He didn't have time for pity or kindness; all he knew was his orders from Gardner: "Just train the damned kids, period."

He sighed; although he knew that Gault wouldn't be coming back for a long while, he could still feel the ranger's dark eyes on his back every second. His deadline was running out soon and he knew that he had to make a decision.

_Distraught, my dear Tales?_

Tales nearly choked; he managed to shout, _Gault?!_

_Who else? I decided to save these little chats for when you're alone; it won't do any good for people to think that you're hearing voices in your head._

_I'm flattered. What the hell do you want now?_

_At the moment, actually, nothing. I feel rather optimistic, if you must know. You know, necromancy really does make one's life much easier; I don't have to bother with bulky telephone cables to contact someone, and I don't have to raise a bow to take a life. Very convenient._

_You're a fucking psycho._

After this malicious thought, Gault jabbed himself into Tales' mind, causing the sniper to fall to the ground in pain.

_It would be in your best interest not to insult me, Rysdale. Have you made your decision yet?_

_…About what?_

_Don't act stupid; have you decided to accept my offer or not?_

_Perhaps…_

_My patience is running thin, you know._

_Even if I made a decision, where can I…find you? _The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

_You have until midnight today to find me. I will be at the center of the world, where the darkness lies within. Remember that you have the proverbial sword over your head, hanging by a slender thread… _

The voice faded away in his mind. Center of the world? Darkness lies within? What kind of riddle bullshit was that? He sighed deeply.

He despised what he would have to do, but in the end, there was no choice.

Slowly, he returned to his room, each step an eternity for him, until he crossed the threshold of his door. He penned a brief note, stuck it to the door, and left the mansion, never once looking back.

-----

We landed at Ellinia station soon after the incident; the fresh breeze and the cool air had never felt so welcome before. From there, it was a short stroll to Henesys, and soon we were among our childhood haunts and memories.

"It…seems a while, doesn't it?" Ark murmured.

"Yes, it does…" I murmured. How long ago had it been, since I'd first ran down that beaten path, all the way to that familiar tree house, just so I could become an archer…?

I took my leave of Ark and Ascion at Athena's tree-house, then slowly crossed the threshold to her abode. She glanced slowly up at me as I entered.

"Phoenix…I see you've become a ranger." she murmured.

"Yes." I nodded.

"I…" She seemed at a loss for words for a moment; finally she managed to say, "You've grown much."

"Thank you." We both stared at each other, unsure of what to say; finally, I managed to pull out my textbook. "Rene gave this to me. She said to discuss it with you."

"Ah." She took the book and flipped through it. "These techniques are not easy to master; you should know that."

"Yes, I do." I sighed. "That…is why I came."

"To resume your training?" she said, her eyes barely glancing up.

"If it's not too much trouble." I murmured, biting my tongue.

"Of course not, Zeraion." she responded, closing the book. "If you like, we can begin at once."

"Um…sure."

"Very well." She gazed penetratingly at me. "Now, what exactly _have _you learned so far?"

I held out my palm and murmured, "Inferno." A tongue of flame leapt out of my palm and showed itself to Athena; I managed to sustain the fire for about fifteen seconds before it burnt out.

"Not bad…for your first try." she murmured, causing me to turn a dark pink. "However…you need to focus the magic. It's just like Final Attack…Try again."

I did so, managing to sustain the fire for a bit more. Athena definitely seemed kinder, now that I was a ranger, but I knew she could only be as gentle as possible, now that my fate had been decreed; I was the only one with the power to defeat Gault.

"Inferno!" I commanded, snapping my fingers. A bright plume of flame rose up and this time, I was able to hold the magic for half a minute. Athena nodded approvingly.

"Very good, Phoenix. In fact, you show the most potential for fire magic in anyone I've ever seen. Most rangers usually decide to work upon Strafe, but in your case…" She gave me a knowing look, then continued, "In the long run, I suppose training your elemental abilities would be for the best."

"Thank you." I muttered, slightly uncomfortable.

"Very well, let's put your abilities to some practical use. Follow me." She strung her Shinebow and walked out, me following behind.

-----

The dim light managed to shine through the chinks in the Victoria Island Sanctuary, illuminating the sniper's steps one by one as he walked, his footsteps echoing eerily across the caverns.

A Cargo opened its mouth and lunged at him, but he whipped out his Marine Raven, faster than the eye could see, and roared, "Strafe!" He impaled the beast through the chest with a quartet of spectral bolts; it fell to the ground and he walked on.

He continued on, his long hair fluttering in the damp, cool breeze, sidestepping the occasional geysers of icy-cold gales of wind that erupted from the ground. His eyes narrowed cautiously as he made his way nimbly through the dungeons, on the lookout for any threat that might block his path to the Sanctuary.

He encountered a massive stone gate, blown open by some previous force. Somewhat unnerved, he readied his crossbow and dashed swiftly inside, ready to confront any threat that lay waiting for him. Sure enough, as soon as he came into view, a pair of Tauromacis barred his way, raising their spears and charging at him.

He snapped his fingers and roared, "Puppet!" His doppelganger drew the attention of the great beasts away for a precious second. With lightning speed, he loaded a spectral bolt into his Raven and roared, "Blizzard!"

A series of massive ice javelins launched themselves from his crossbow, spearing the massive beasts through their bodies and freezing them. A few quick Strafe attacks from his crossbow was enough to finish them off. A Taurospear nearby charged at him, but he dealt with it in much the same way. The door to the next room of the Sanctuary, also blown open previously, lay ahead of him.

He rushed inside and aimed his crossbow at every nook and cranny before realizing that he was alone in the room.

Or so he thought. There was a massive roar, a flash of bright flame, and the sniper found himself surrounded by no less than a dozen Crimson Balrogs, fangs bared and claws drawn.

"Shoot." he growled, sweat sliding down his neck. Had he come here, lured all the way by Gault, just to meet his painful end deep in the Victorian Sanctuary?

As the demons slowly advanced on him, a voice suddenly rang out in the emptiness of the catacombs.

"_Bring him here."_

The Balrogs paused, then grunted and moved aside, leaving a path for the awed sniper. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the firelight and he saw, past the groups of Crimson Balrogs, a dark-haired man, tenderly stroking a silver-golden colored bow in his lap, his red pupils piercing through the darkness more than any light.

"Gault." The sniper snarled, his crossbow falling to his side; he knew it was useless in this situation.

"Rysdale." The man named Gault got up, twirling his bow around his arm. "So, you've taken it upon yourself to venture all the way into the Sanctuary. It was no trouble, I hope?"

"None at all." the sniper, Rysdale, ground out bitterly.

"Oh, Tales, why do you despise me so?" Gault murmured, turning to the side.

"This is as good as blackmail, Gault." Rysdale snarled.

Gault fixed a crimson-shaded pupil on the sniper. "Don't be so pessimistic, Rysdale. I am merely offering you a chance; an opportunity to save yourself from destruction. And yet you still complain…Have you forgotten that we used to be childhood next-door neighbors?"

"Don't remind me." Tales folded his arms across his chest, his crossbow sheathed. "Just tell me what you want."

A snide grin spread across Gault's face. "You know perfectly well what I want, Rysdale. To kill Zeraion Phoenix."

Tales remained silent, and Gault's grin only grew wider. "It's his life against yours…and hers. Don't be a fool. I can offer you much more than you could ever gain with Rathias Gardner…that sadly misguided soul, as mighty as he is, he dares to challenge me…You could even, perhaps, become a crossbowmaster…how does that sound?"

"Don't tempt me." Tales growled, his knuckles turning white and his pupils widening angrily under his gun-steel spectacles. "You know as well as I that I'm only here for her."

"Ah." Gault murmured, turning to face the Balrogs for a bit, then returned his gaze to the amber-haired sniper. "Were you a warrior, magician, or thief…I would have slaughtered you without mercy. However, despite your treachery, I still consider you an honorable soul, so I will grant you your last decision."

He gazed into Tales' stare, his bloodred pupils staring into the sniper's dark, emotionless eyes.

"Will you accept my offer…or not?"

Tales remained silent for a few moments, then solemnly inclined his head. "Yes, I will."

Gault's smile grew almost too freakish, even for his face. "Excellent, Rysdale. You've made the right decision. As a gift, I shall grant you some of my necromantic powers- only a fragment, but rest assured, your power shall increase hundredfold. Kneel."

The sniper remained standing stonily, and Gault's grin faded ever so slightly. "I said _kneel!_"

Tales cried out in pain and fell to his knees as Gault drove a mental spike into his mind. He lay there as Gault slowly marched up to him, placed his hand on his shoulder, and began to chant something under his breath.

A dark circle of light encircled the two, runes engraving themselves upon the ground, and there was a blinding flash of darkness, and a massive roar, as though a dragon had awakened; there was another shout of pain from the sniper…

And then silence, save for the pained breathing of Tales. Slowly, Gault removed his hand, obviously pleased with himself, and the sniper stared at his left shoulder in horror; a burning, dark insignia of a coiled serpent was hissing on his shoulder; even though it was only a tattoo, it hissed and growled as though it were alive.

"And thus, you gain a fragment of the power of the dark dragons…" Gault murmured. "Rest assured, this is not mind control; you are still free to go and do as you please. Only know that…your abilities have been augmented and fused to the highest degree."

Tales continued to shudder and writhe in pain on the ground, as Gault continued. "All I ask from you in return, Tales…is the blood of Zeraion Phoenix."

-----

Athena led me outside to the familiar shooting range, and waved her arm. "Puppet!" she commanded. At once, a large number of puppets, anywhere from two to three dozen, appeared on the range. She then turned to me.

"Now, let me elaborate on the subject a little; Inferno is a technique that rangers are able to develop once they gain greater control of the magic in their bodies. It allows one to control and wield the element of fire, but keep in mind that since your magical capabilities are less than that of a mage, you won't be able to use it to a very great extent."

I nodded, only half-listening; she gave me a steely look before continuing. "Nevertheless, being able to control fire has several practical uses in battle. Any flammable object can be turned into a trap at your disposal, your arrows can be enchanted to fly faster and strike with greater force, but most importantly, the ability to control an element will allow you, in times of dire need, to fight without a weapon."

Now I perked up a little; being able to fight with nothing except my bare hands would be a very interesting concept. She sighed before saying, "For the moment, though, I don't want you running off and trying to take some monsters empty-handed. You'll need to improve your abilities…as much as possible." She looked me over and sighed again. "At level 70, you should be improving your level at the rate of ten per year. Am I correct?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"Well," she muttered, flexing the bowstring of her Shinebow, "that's not nearly as fast as I would like under the circumstances. Do you think you can reach your eightieth level in, say…four to six months?"

"Wh-" I bit back a sharp retort and finally managed to mutter, "But…Master, that's impossi-"

There was a flash of flame and I leapt back, my sleeves singed. I heard Athena mutter, "I didn't ask for your opinion, Zeraion." Cursing under my breath, I turned my attention back to Athena's words. "Now, you can harness this fire in several ways; most rangers, if they use Inferno at all, prefer to use it through their bow in a technique known as scatter-shot. You create an arrow purely out of flame and use magic to direct it; it should break apart in mid-air and create a widespread shower of fire. It is a very effective method of crowd control." Having finished her speech, she raised her Shinebow to the air and closed her eyes; at once, a ball of flame took shape from her hands and formed a brilliant shaft of fire. "Inferno!"

The flaming arrow left her bow at supersonic speed and exploded in midair, breaking off into countless, smaller firebolts that flew back towards the ground at high velocity. As I watched with awe, the flames incinerated every single puppet on the range.

"Now, you try." she said, regenerating the puppets with a wave of her hand. "Concentrate and let the flames suffuse you…"

_Easier said than done. _I raised my Hinkel and focused, closing my eyes, the heat searing my palm, but I waited to draw back the bowstring. "Inferno!"

A meager bolt of fire flew some distance into the air and broke apart into several fireballs, heading for the ground; I managed to burn only about seven or eight puppets, unfortunately.

"Practice." Athena merely said, barely glancing at me.

-----

The sun beat furiously down on the dry, arid landscapes of Perion; the drakes lumbered around the valley, looking for a quick bite to eat. Two fighters were in the valley, dueling ferociously against the beasts; but when one fell, another rose to take its place.

"Oh, shoot…Power Guard!" Dariel Marron roared, the jaws of a fire drake closing in on him. He beat it back with his Sparta, knocking out two of its teeth; he quickly hefted his blade and roared, "Spiral Slash Strike!" His attack tore a vicious gash through the beast as it collapsed.

"Stop shouting that every time you kill one, Dariel." his companion, Ryden, murmured. "You're starting to sound annoying."

"Shut up. You're just jealous because I made up a new fighting move and you didn't." Marron stuck out his tongue.

Ryden sighed. "Whatever." He unsheathed his sword and decapitated a nearby drake in a quick stroke. "You just wait until I become a sader, then I'll easily kick the crap out of you…"

"Yeah, and that'll take, like what, two years?" Marron chuckled lightly.

Ryden spun around, aiming a blow at the blonde-haired fighter; he swung around and returned the strike with equal force.

"Well played." Ryden muttered, returning his attention to the drakes. Marron watched beadily; even though he and Ryden were ferocious rivals, they were still teammates, and nothing could ever change that.

Sighing, he twirled the bloody Sparta in his palm and butterflied another nearby drake, but this time keeping his mouth silent.

"How many more do you need until 70, anyway?" Ryden asked.

"At this rate?" Marron laughed humorlessly. "Maybe a billion."

"Don't be such an ass, Dariel." Ryden chuckled. "You're level 68...You'll only need a million or so."

"Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better." Marron sighed, stabbing another couple of drakes. "You're not doing too badly yourself. Only need six more levels until 70."

"Whatever. Have you given any thought to what you're going to do when you hit 70?" Ryden asked.

Marron shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe some mercenary work."

"Yeah, same here." Ryden twirled his blade around and beat back another pair of drakes. "When's Ark coming back?"

"Soon, I suppose. He's already been gone two days."

"Yeah, well…" He sighed, cleaving up another drake. "I can't wait to hit 70."

"Neither can I, but we're not going to get anywhere just talking about it. Any Steelies yet?"

"Nope."

"Damn it! How am I going to pay for my Doombringer that way?!"

-----

"Inferno Rain!" Natalia Arundale roared, raising her Marine Arund to the air and firing off a cloud of flaming arrows; they hovered in the air for a split second and fell back to earth with incredibly high velocity.

"Shoot." Traphes Igzarion neatly weaved past the fiery projectiles, dodging and diving until he reached Arundale; with a shout, he lunged at her and roared, "Power Knock-Back!"

Arundale brought her own bow up to guard against the melee assault; the attacks clanged against each other with equal force, sending both rangers sliding across the ground.

"Dammit." Arundale muttered. "Strafe!" She aimed her bow and spewed four spectral arrows at Igzarion; however, as he leapt to the side, she snapped the string and roared, "Inferno!"

A bolt of white-hot flame leapt from her bowstring and slammed the ground near Igzarion, throwing him into the air; he landed squarely on his feet and whipped the string of his Metus. "Demon Rain!"

"Shi-" She dived for cover, shards of dark energy showering across the field. Frantically, she snapped her fingers. "Puppet!"

Several doppelgangers appeared out of the air and shielded her from the blasts; panting, she twirled an arrow in her hand before nocking it to her bow. "Inferno!"

A blast of flame erupted from her bow and launched itself at Igzarion; he dove out of the way and prepared to attack again. "Demon-"

"Enough!" Arklanser roared from the side. "Before you burn this whole place down…"

Both rangers sighed and sheathed their weapons.

"Good training, Natalia." Igzarion sighed.

She giggled. "You too, Iggy."

Igzarion rolled his eyes. "Whatever." he mumbled, turning pink. He was spared further embarassment by the arrival of a sweaty-faced Gardner.

"Have any of you seen Tales?" he asked hurriedly.

All three shook their heads.

"Damn it." He unfolded a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket. "He left this on his door." He then read it out loud:

_Rathias, I've left. For an arbitrarily long period of time, it would seem. I've done what you told me to do; I have no regrets. Take care of Lauranthalas for me._

_R. Tales_

"What the bloody hell could that mean?" Igzarion asked, wrinkling his forehead.

Gardner stared up from the paper with a very dark expression and opened his mouth, but fell silent. Following his gaze, the rest of the captains turned to see Zeraion Phoenix crossing over to them.

"Hey, guys." the blonde-haired ranger said, raising a hand in greeting.

"Ah, Phoenix." Gardner resumed his façade. "You're a ranger now, I see?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I just got back from training with Athena."

"I see. In that case, welcome back; you've been gone for three days since your excursion to the Forest of Dead Trees with Tales."

"Yeah, thanks." Phoenix cast an eye around the group. "By the way," he asked, "where is Tales, anyway?"

The rest of the captains exchanged dark looks; finally, Gardner said, "He went to El Nath."

"Really?"

"Yes." Igzarion, Arundale, and Arklanser glanced sideways at Gardner; it was amazing how he could tell such a lie with a blunt, emotionless face. "He won't be back for…a while."

"Is this about his sister or something?" Phoenix asked in a slightly curt tone.

Gardner's brow wrinkled. "In a way, yes."

He sighed. "Well, I'll be glad when he gets back. You still have anything to eat?"

"Yeah, sure." Arundale and Igzarion led Phoenix inside the mansion, but Arklanser remained with Gardner. "You were saying, Rathias?" she asked with a fiery glare.

Gardner returned the glare with a cobalt-ice stare. "It means…that Zeraion Phoenix is in grave danger."

-----

Igzarion and Arundale led me to the remains of what had apparently been today's dinner; soup and salad. I ate it gratefully, even though it was cold. After I had finished my impromptu repast, Igzarion turned to me. "So, Phoenix…" He looked me up and down. "You're a ranger now, eh?"

"Yes." I muttered.

"In that case, I think it would be best to inform you of the goings-on around here." He flicked his fingers, creating a flash of flame; it had little effect since I was already used to creating fire. "Over the weekend, we decided to create our own little…organization, so to speak. Secession from The Uprising."

"Really?" I asked with interest. "Does Gault know about it?"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "I should hope not."

"In any case…" Arundale continued. "This isn't just about bowmen anymore, it's about…well, the fate of the world, so to speak. If you've known Gault as long as we have…" She sighed and rumpled her hair. "He doesn't exactly like warriors, magicians, or thieves."

"I'm well aware of that. What's your point?"

"The point is, he could start a war at any time, and end up blowing up the world." she shrugged listlessly. "And just in case that happens- and I don't doubt it will- we're going to need to mobilize a rapid-reaction force. Currently, we have…about a hundred bowmen here, but that's not nearly enough. Besides, we don't know how many are still loyal to Gault."

"What she's trying to say," Igzarion muttered, taking a swig of alcohol from the refridgerator, "is that if you know anyone who wants to get off their butts and fight, let us know."

"Iggy, don't drink that stuff." Arundale sighed.

"It keeps me awake." the dark-haired ranger shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Is there a level limit?"

"Well, given the situation, at the moment, we'd say 70 and above, but if need be, you can go as low as 60. The point is, we don't want a whole load of freaking beginners swarming the place."

"Yeah, I understand." I muttered, thinking about the situation at hand. Arundale's words sounded ominous- a war was the last thing any of us wanted, but it was a definite possibility. "Well, I have two brothers; could they help?"

"Sure, if they're willing to fight. The only problem is how we're going to provide lodgings for all these guys. Gault's house is designed for a hundred people, but if all goes well we'll need to build bunkers or something for the rest of them."

"It sounds like a good idea, but…there's just one problem." I muttered. Both rangers turned to look at me. "What?"

"What if Gault comes back while we're holding a meeting?"

"Well…That's just a risk we're going to have to take." Igzarion shrugged.

These words, coupled with Tales' absence, did not make me any easier. Nevertheless, I had no more to glean from the occasion, so I turned and walked up to my room.

-----

Tales lay on the cold stone floor of the Sanctuary, breathing heavily in pain; Gault regarded him with a mixture of satisfaction and interest.

_All I ask from you in return, Tales…is the blood of Zeraion Phoenix._

The words echoed in his ears, a horrible mantra that filled his mind; try as he might to block out the sound, that only increased the noise louder. He scrabbled for his crossbow, pulling it out and aiming it at various niches in the stone, but when he raised his face, he found that he was alone; Gault and the Crimson Balrogs had all melted away into the dark mist, leaving him alone in the dark Sanctuary.

"D…Damn." Tales snarled. He got to his feet, painfully, his Marine Raven still drawn. _I need to get out of here. _He stumbled along, the scar on his shoulder still burning, and looked for a quick method of escape.

There was none as far as he could see, so he merely turned around on his heel and prepared to leave the Sanctuary through the endless dungeons.

Just as he was about to head for the exit, a Jr. Balrog appeared. It was not nearly as powerful as its winged kin, but still quite dangerous, and able to deal death to most with a single blow. Black horns grew from its head and it bared its fangs as it stared the human below it up and down.

_Shit. _With a sudden jolt, he remembered that even after Gault had left, Balrogs still spawned from the cracks of the earth, once every month, where they lay in wait for any unwary traveler that dared to travel to the Sanctuary. In his normal state, he probably could have stood a slight chance against it, but now his shoulder and arm throbbed painfully, making it near impossible for him to load and fire, and Gault's spell had drained much of his stamina.

The Balrog only needed a moment's more before charging. It gave a vicious roar and charged at the sniper; he dove out of the way awkwardly and rolled across the floor. On his knees, he aimed at the beast. "Strafe!"

Four bolts flew from his crossbow and struck the Balrog; it did not falter, but only lunged at him a second time. Once again, he was forced to do an action roll across the floor to avoid it, and he took a gash in his knee from a stray piece of rubble. Bleeding, he caught his breath as the Balrog raised a claw for its signature attack; the meteor.

He saw the ball of dark energy gathering at the beast's claw, and he knew there was nothing he could do, alone, weak, and wounded, but with a sudden burst of courage, he aimed his Raven at the monster. _I'm not going to die. Not like this._

He concentrated his elemental abilities harder than he'd ever done before, the air around him instantly misting and turning to ice vapor as the bolt of ice formed at the barrel of his Raven. As he concentrated, he could feel the scar on his shoulder burning viciously.

Then, with a sudden roar, the serpent on his shoulder sprang into life, shooting down the length of his arm and curling down onto his palm; he roared in pain: vicious, excrutiating pain, and at the same time, he could hear the serpent hissing…hissing words that found their way into his mouth.

"_Blizzard…Eruption!!!"_

With a massive roar, he released the magic. The ground in front of him was obliterated into oblivion as gigantic spikes of hard, shimmering ice ripped through the stone floor at an incredibly high velocity. The massive javelins of ice, each the size of a telephone pole, flung themselves at the Balrog. It never even had the chance to scream before it was completely skewered by the icy projectiles, and its horribly mangled body fell to the stone floor with a thud.

Tales sunk to his knees, pain obscuring his vision, but when it cleared, he was dumbfounded. It seemed as though both a massive blizzard and a huge earthquake had pounded the Sanctuary; gigantic chunks of bloody ice and stone littered the ground, and in the midst of it all was the corpse of a huge Jr. Balrog.

The scar on his arm purred softly and curled back up, resting itself onto his shoulder.

_And thus, you gain a fragment of the power of the dark dragons…_

-----

"So…life's back to normal, huh?" Ark Wolfen sighed, sipping some tea.

"Pretty much." Ascion Blade murmured, pouring out a cup of the steaming tea for himself and sitting down.

The two were back in their old childhood house in Henesys, relaxing in chairs that were designed for children half their age. "Everything…just seems so different, you know, now that we're older, and stronger…"

"The time does fly by." Ascion sighed, taking a quick swig of his tea. "It seems only yesterday that we were playing cards over on the floor there, and having snail stew at that table, and that our parents were-"

He broke off, staring at his older brother with a saddened expression. "S-sorry, Ark." he mumbled. "I didn't mean to-"

Ark merely cut off his brother with a wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter any more, Ascion. Mom and Dad would be proud of us now, following in their footsteps."

"Yeah." Ascion chuckled. "I always wondered how a crusader like Mom ended up with a geeky priest like Dad…"

Ark had to laugh. "There are some things we'll never know, Ascion."

"So…" Ascion sighed, drinking some more tea. "You're heading back to Perion, then?"

"Yeah." Ark scraped his knuckles against the table. "I expect Dariel and Ryden should be _extremely _happy to see me back." he muttered, in a sarcastic tone.

"Heh, well, I'm going back to Ellinia." Ascion muttered, ruffling his dark brown hair. "Maybe do a little TA'ing in my spare time, train with Iris-"

"Just as long as you don't make out with her in front of the kiddies, Ass Blade." Ark muttered, examining his gloves.

"What did you say?!" Ascion yelled, his face turning beet-red.

"Oh, nothing." Ark muttered, still scrutinizing his palms. "Just that if you decide to give them a lesson on sex education, it might be better to leave that to somebody who actually knows what they're talking about…" He cracked his knuckles. "Bit rusty, don't you think?"

"Ark…" Ascion raised his Angel Wings, crackling with holy energy. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Whatever, Ascion." Ark sighed, a slight smirk on his face, then got up from his seat. "Mail should be here." He strode outside and soon returned with a bundle of scrolls.

"Anything interesting?" Ascion muttered.

"Nah, just the water bill, electric bill, and a flower catalog…like we would ever need one of those." Ark murmured, crumpling it in his hand. "Hey, here's a letter from Zer."

"Really?" Ascion looked interested. He snatched the scroll from Ark and read it.

_Dear Ark and Ascion:_

_So, we're at the third class now; none of us ever dreamed we would make it this far, but we did it at last. Yet still, the greatest part of our journey lies ahead of us; there is evil to be slain and people to be saved._

_I write this because I wish to know if you will accept an invitation from me to join an organization of sorts called The Resistance; if you wish to know more, inform me of your decision tonight at six o'clock, for that is when I will be training with Athena._

_With love, Zeraion Phoenix_

Ascion folded up the scroll. "I think Zer's been reading too many fairy tales, if you ask me."

Ark cracked his knuckles again. "Perhaps, but he definitely sounds serious. Say…" he murmured, something coming to his mind. "Would this Resistance thing have anything to do with that Gault guy?"

"It's a distinct possibility." Ascion muttered.

"Then, what are we waiting for? I want to know the truth about this guy, and I want to know it now. Come on; it's a quarter to six. Let's pay a visit to Athena."

-----

The wind blew softly as Zeraion Phoenix stepped onto the grasslands behind Athena Pierce's house; as expected, she was waiting for him.

"Zeraion." she murmured. "You trained well today?"

"Aye." he responded. "I trained at the Forest of Dead Trees for several hours."

"Good. Have you improved with your arts of fire?"

"Somewhat." he shrugged modestly.

Athena sighed. "Well, then, let's see the worst."

Before Phoenix could begin, though, two figures stepped onto the field. One was a tall, raven-haired crusader, a purple axe draped across his back, and the other was a shorter, chocolate-haired priest, dressed in a long robe that fluttered in the wind as he walked.

"Ark, Ascion." Phoenix said, addressing his brothers. "You got my message, then?"

"Indeed." Ark nodded. "If I might ask, though…who exactly are you resisting with this organization?"

"Gault." Zeraion shrugged darkly.

"I knew he was a dodgy one." Ark muttered. "What exactly did he do?"

Zeraion fell silent for a moment, then said in a low tone, "In the Ellinian revolt, he…"

"He what?" Athena's voice sharply cut through the sleepy atmosphere.

"He…killed her."

"Who exactly is 'her'?"

"Grace." Zeraion growled darkly.

Ark looked confused, but Ascion clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. "Oh my god…He killed…"

Athena's eyes widened. "You're saying that Gault really was the one who started the Ellinian uprising?"

"Who else?" He shrugged listlessly.

"Well…" Ascion bit his lip. "If this had anything to do with her, then I'm in."

"Yeah, if Ascion's in, then I'll go as well." Ark nodded.

"Thanks, guys." Zeraion murmured.

The crusader and the priest left the range, leaving Athena to stare sternly at her student. "Zeraion, you…actually went along with Gault?"

"I had no choice." Zeraion shrugged his shoulders. "None of the other subordinates wanted to go and I had to leave in order to allay suspicion."

Athena sighed deeply. "Be that as it may, Phoenix, you know very well that any participants in that massacre are being persecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Do you know exactly how many people died there?"

"No, and I don't want to know." Phoenix sighed. "I know I did wrong, but…there was nothing I could do to stop them. It was a mob mentality, if you will…" He stared listlessly into the orange sunset. "Aren't you going to turn me in?"

Athena laid a hand on her student's shoulder. "No, Zeraion." she murmured, very gently. "I think you've suffered enough."

"Thank you." he returned, softly.

They stood in silence for a while, until Athena clapped her hands and said, "Well, you're not going to get anywhere just standing here. Show me what you can do with your flames."

He nodded, then held his hands together and murmured, "Inferno!"

A brilliant plume of fire rose into the sky, filling the atmosphere with its heat. The ranger managed to sustain the flames for a full minute, and Athena nodded. "Very good, Zeraion."

-----

It was midnight when I returned to Gault's mansion. Athena had relentlessly drilled me on practicing Inferno, and afterwards she had made me head to Golem's Temple and take down hordes of Mix Golems until dusk. Nevertheless, I had gained a level and had even taken the time to learn a little Strafe.

The kids greeted me warmly, all clamoring for me to show them some Ranger techniques; finally, I managed to hold them off by summoning a small pillar of flame for a minute. Gardner was waiting for me near the door.

"Hey, Phoenix." he said. "You have some visitors."

"What do you-" I started to say, but the door swung open and I found myself staring at Ark, Ascion, Joe, Schuyler, Iris, and two other fighters who I didn't recognize.

"Hey, Zer!" Joe lunged at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. "How's it going?"

"Great…" I managed to mumble. "Now please get off of me, you're squishing my spleen."

He let go of me sheepishly, and Ark quickly introduced the two fighters as Dariel Marron and Ryden. Dariel had wild blonde hair and had a massive Doombringer in the sheath across his back; Ryden was slightly shorter with dark hair and had both a Sparta and a Neocora in his belt.

"Nice to meet you all." I said. "So I'm assuming they're all here for The Resistance?"

"Yes." Gardner nodded.

"You haven't told me yet; what are we supposed to be doing?" I muttered to him out of the side of my mouth.

"Right now, we're gathering information on Gault; he hasn't come back to this house for a week, so we're all getting suspicious."

"Any leads?"

"None at all."

I swore under my breath. Gardner raised an eyebrow and muttered, "You should go get some fresh air. It'll do you good."

Taking his advice, I went outside, for a walk around the archery strip.

It was very nearly the last act of my life.

-----

Deep in the Victorian Sanctuary, Gault Isentryx sat on a stone, meditating; Crimson Balrogs, Jr. Balrogs, and Tauros fluttered about him.

"Refreshing." He opened his eyes. "So, the time has come to show this resistance that although I admire their resilience, it would be folly to interfere with my plans." He pointed a finger at a nearby Crimson Balrog. "You there!"

It lumbered over to him, fear in its eyes. Gault sighed.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you…yet." he hissed. "I have a task for you. In Henesys, you will find a man named Rathias Gardner. Bring him to me."

The Balrog nodded, then quickly flew out of the Sanctuary, several of its companions following behind. Gault watched them beadily.

_Everything is working as planned. Zeraion will soon be dead, Rysdale will have served his purpose, and Rathias will soon be subjugated. _

A fanged grin spread across his face; across the room, the Balrogs nervously inched away from him.

-----

My footsteps slowly echoed across the dry grass as I followed Gardner's suggestion. _Damn it. Gault's getting stronger by the minute, and I'm only level 71. I have to train some more. And where the hell is Tales? I know he has to take care of his sister, but isn't that a bit much?_

I missed that face behind the spectacles, but now was not the time to dwell on it; I raised my bow and aimed listlessly into the darkness, intending to use a practice Strafe.

That action, as inconsequential as I thought it was, ended up saving my life. Poised and ready, I was set to release the arrows. However, I heard, in the rustling wind, the faint sound of a growl, and out of instinct, I leaped to the side, just as a bolt of flame erupted from a nearby bush, missing me by inches. The smell of scorched material hung in the air; I realized that a few stray strands of my hair had been burnt.

I whipped around, raising my bow, and at that moment a huge Taurospear exploded out of the underbrush, charging right at me. I leapt out of the way; it ended up striking a deep crater in the ground. Swiftly, I raised my bow again. "Strafe!"

Four arrows flew out of my bow and struck the Taurospear, but it had little effect and it charged again. I quickly did an awkward somersault to dodge the lightning and struck again. "Inferno…Double Shot!"

Two bolts of flame erupted from my Hinkel and struck the Taurospear head-on; however, another appeared to take its place. Abandoning all comfort, I harnessed the recoil and roared, "Final Attack!"

The resulting blast of fire burned a grotesque hole through the second Taurospear; it fell to the ground, very much dead. Now that the two monsters were done for, fear began to creep into my previously clear mind. _What the bloody hell? Taurospears don't come this near Henesys! _Something was up; I definitely knew that much.

As if to complete the impression that the whole world had suddenly turned upside down, I heard a blood-curdling roar and saw a Crimson Balrog, hurtling straight at me, right from the sky.

Panic clouded my mind for a split second before I jumped. The Crimson Balrog hit the ground with a massive crash, and for a precious second, I thought it had killed itself. However, this was sadly untrue as it climbed right up out of the crater it had made, fairly unhurt.

It raised a claw and seemed to sniff the air, as though searching for something. Then it pointed at me. "_You!" _it snarled.

"What about me?" I roared back, my bow raised.

"_It is you!" _the beast growled, sniffing the air. "_Come with me, bowmaster, lest you suffer a painful death!"_

Bowmaster? What the hell? I stared before responding, "I think you have the wrong person…"

That wasn't going to cut it for the demon; it raised a claw and sent a blast of dark lightning hurtling my way. It missed me by only a few yards as I dived out of the way. I heard the Balrog shout, "_Resistance is futile!"_

I rolled my eyes. "We'll see about that, you asshole." I raised my bow and roared, "Double Shot…Final Attack!"

Three bolts of flame erupted from my bow and struck the Balrog straight in the chest; it gave a horrible roar and lunged at me angrily. I deftly leaped out of the way, wondering whether someone could see that I was being attacked by a huge demon and needed help.

I slammed into something hard and noxious; a chill ran through my spine and I looked upwards, staring into the skeleton face of a second Crimson Balrog.

-----

With an almighty roar, the Balrog picked me up by the scruff of my neck; I yelled as I felt myself being lifted into the air. The first Balrog charged at me, growling and ready to tear me apart.

"_No!" _the second one growled. "_Remember Lord Isentryx's orders! We are to keep him alive!"_

The first one grumbled. "_I want to have the honor of tearing him apart…It seems our lord was not deceiving us. He is indeed a formidable opponent."_

The Balrog that was holding me sighed. "_Be that as it may, even the great Rathias Gardner cannot escape the wrath of Lord Isentryx."_

_What the hell?! These blockheads actually thought I was Gardner? How thick can you get? _I yelled out with all my might, "PUT ME DOWN!" I didn't actually expect them to do so, but hopefully I could attract someone's attention. The Balrog clamped a filthy hand over my mouth, muffling the sound.

Sure enough, I saw the silhouette of someone clutching a bow walking out onto the grounds.

It was Delinia Arklanser. The moon reflected off of her flame-red, waist-length hair; despite the situation I was in, I couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. But how could I get her attention? I couldn't yell, and try as I might, struggling wouldn't do a bit of good.

_The ability to control an element will allow you, in times of dire need, to fight without a weapon._

"INFERNO!" I mumbled as best I could under the Balrog's smothering palm; I managed to bring my wrist down and summon a flash of bright flame. The Balrog gave a thundering roar of pain that caught Arklanser's attention.

"What the-" She caught sight of me, being held by a Crimson Balrog. "Phoenix?! Is that you?!"

"Who else?!" I roared, still struggling against the Balrog's iron grip.

She drew her bow to her shoulder, a white-colored weapon that I didn't know the name of, adorned with a hawk's head, and pulled back the string.

"Inferno!" she roared, releasing the bowstring.

A storm of magenta-colored flames erupted fiercely from her bow and rushed towards the first Balrog like a tidal wave; it gave a cry of pain as it was consumed by the spectral fire. Needing no encouragement, the Balrog holding me spread its wings and soared into the air.

"Phoenix!" she yelled from below. "Silver Hawk!" A massive silver-colored bird burst from thin air; she climbed onto its back and took off after me, her white hawk-head bow drawn and ready to fire. "Mortal Blow!" she shouted, launching a fiery blue arrow.

The arrow zipped past and missed the Balrog by a few inches; snarling, it turned around and sent a bolt of dark lightning flying at her; as I watched in horror, it struck the bird directly and she plummeted to the ground.

"Arklanser!" I screamed, tears in my eyes as I reached out for her, but the Balrog only flew higher, and a sudden cloud cover obscured my sight.

-----

Rathias Gardner, Traphes Igzarion and Natalia Arundale had rushed out as soon as they heard the roars from outside; they arrived in time to see the field marred with several craters and a mangled-looking Arklanser on the ground below.

"Delinia!" Gardner shouted, running to her side; she managed to sit up. "You all right?"

"I'm…fine." She coughed up a little blood. "Fell from my hawk in midair, but I'll live."

"Damn it…" Igzarion surveyed the craters on the ground. "What the hell were you fighting?"

"Crimson." Arklanser coughed some more. "It…kidnapped Phoenix."

"Say _what?!" _Gardner roared, suddenly. "Do you mean to tell me that there's a Crimson Balrog in the sky with Zeraion Phoenix in its talons?"

"Yes." she moaned, before wincing in pain.

"Damned hell!" Gardner swore. "There's no time to lose. Traphes, you follow me. Natalia, you stay here and take care of Delinia." He sounded so fierce that neither of the other rangers dared to protest; still seething, Gardner raised a hand and commanded, "Fire Phoenix!" A brilliant, feral, dragon-like bird, flames erupting from its wings, appeared from thin air, which Gardner mounted. "Come on." he motioned to Igzarion, taking off into the sky, leaving an iridescent trail behind.

Igzarion shook his head. "Sorry, Natalia. I'll be back soon." He snapped his fingers and commanded, "Silver Hawk!" A silver bird much like Arklanser's appeared from the air, which he climbed onto and took off after Gardner, his Metus drawn.

Arundale sighed, on the ground. "First Rysdale, now Phoenix." she muttered. "It seems like the whole world's gone mad." She flicked her wrist and commanded, "Silver Hawk!" She conjured a third hawk from the air, loaded Arklanser onto it, then flew to the infirmary.

-----

"Open your eyes, Phoenix, and look at me."

I blinked; there was a dark fog obscuring my vision for a bit and my head was pounding fiercely. When I regained some of my senses, I discovered I was in a cavern; dank and smelly, surrounded by Tauros and Balrogs. Standing a few yards away from me was the man whom I was destined to fight, Gault Isentryx. His Shinebow was armed and out, and I closed my eyes. _Is this how it ends?_

"I asked you to open your eyes, Phoenix." Gault said calmly. Slowly, I obeyed, my vision returning. I heard Gault speak to the nearest Balrog in a kind of snarling voice, barely legible, "_I thought I told you to find Rathias Gardner!"_

The Balrog, shaking with fear, managed to stutter, "_Forgive me, Lord Isentryx, I-"_

"I don't have time for your blubbering apologies!" Gault roared furiously. "Dark Reprisal!"

The Balrog gave a hideous scream as its body was rent in two; it fell with a squelch onto the floor and I had to look away to keep from being sick.

"So be it; it seems even the monsters are incompetent to the point of frustration." Gault sighed, running a hand through his night-black hair. "But…perhaps, this is not so unfortunate. Zeraion Phoenix and Rathias Gardner, both masters of Final Attack…What difference does it make?" He turned to look directly at me. "First of all, I offer you my congratulations for becoming a Ranger."

"Piss off." I snarled. Gault's pupils shrank angrily for a second, but he quickly regained his composure.

"I would strongly advise you to not annoy me, Phoenix." Gault sighed, twanging the string of his bow. The resulting note rang through the room. It sounded like a tone of death.

"In any case, Phoenix…" He sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "I was very disappointed in you that night when I scryed you in El Nath. Such vague and cruel feelings…"

"Excuse me?" I asked, not knowing what 'scry' meant.

"Scrying is the art of using reflections to show one images." Gault said calmly, as though he was a teacher explaining a concept to an ignorant student. "It is a key concept in necromancy, although it is not one I enjoy very much…but enough of that. I was very much dismayed to find that you detested me…just because of a girl, no less. What was her name…Grace, am I correct?"

"Don't say her name!" I roared, hating the sound of his filthy voice around her lost identity. Gault merely shook his head.

"Love is only an emotion, Phoenix. All it will do is weaken you and distract you from your goals. You should know that by now. In any case, she was using forbidden magic. Death was too kind to her."

"Shut up!" I roared furiously. "She didn't deserve to die at the hands of someone like you! Not like that…"

"She dared to cross paths with me some years ago." Gault murmured, stroking his Shinebow as though it were a precious pet of some sort. "And she paid the price. It has been the same with every one of them…the other classes annoy me to no end. There was once a priest, Lucian, I believe, who wasn't very receptive to walking through a little snow." He sighed. "What a pity; it would have saved us all a lot of trouble if he hadn't been so stubborn-headed."

I stood there, seething with hate; Gault was evil, pure evil; he was throwing other people's lives away like pebbles, as though they meant nothing to him. Then, worst of all, he turned to face me.

"But you, my dear Phoenix, are special. You are a bowman, one of my kind, and you have mastered Final Attack. It is because of this that I can forgive you for your thoughts and grant you a choice for your life."

He cast a penetrating stare at me, then continued on.

"You can either join me to rid the world of the undesirables, the infidels, the weak, and help me reshape this world into the glory that it once was. Or you can walk away from the Sanctuary, and we part as bitter, sworn enemies for eternity."

He gazed at me; I could feel nothing but hot hate flowing through my veins. There was no chance in hell that I would ever beg for my life to him; I would never place myself at his disposal again.

My decision was final.

"I refuse your offer." I snarled, all my fury directed towards him in that single statement. The Balrogs and Tauros closed forward, ready to tear me to shreds, but to my amazement, Gault stopped them.

"Leave him be." he hissed, and the monsters fell back. He turned to face me. "So be it, Phoenix. Despite your treachery, I still believed, deep in my heart, that we could have been the closest of allies. It seems that I have been sadly mistaken for the second time."

He cast his piercing bloodred stare at me. "Good-bye…Zeraion Phoenix."

It might have been a trick of the dim light, but I could have sworn I saw a tear slide out of his left eye; nevertheless, I wanted to be rid of him. I turned away and heard Gault say, "Escort him out, please." The Balrog nodded, placed its claws on my shoulder, and led me out of the Sanctuary.

-----

Once we had passed through the dark dungeons and tunnels, the Balrog led me to an exit in the cave that led to a clearing in the forest, lined with stone statues. The town of Sleepywood was nearby and I could rest there.

"Thanks." I muttered to the Balrog; it gave a snarl and disappeared back into the dungeons. I was now in the middle of the forest, but there was nothing particularly dangerous there; besides, Sleepywood was a short distance away.

I began to walk forward, and then I had a split second's warning that something was terribly wrong. I don't know what caused it; a slight growling sound, a rustle in the bushes; but I leapt aside, and a gigantic white-furred lycanthrope, its fur lightly streaked with amber and silver, barreled forward, missing me by a narrow margin and crashing into the stone.

My heart pounded as I dashed to face my foe; lycanthropes were werewolves that were far more dangerous than their brown-furred relatives, and once out of their natural, snowy habitat, they could be extremely aggressive. I dashed towards the forest, the lycan hot on my trail; I ducked swiftly as I heard it roar and watched several trees fall as the lycan swung its massive claw.

"Screw this." I muttered. Going into the forest would be a stupid idea; I was unfamiliar with the terrain and would probably get caught by the nimble wolf in a matter of seconds. That left only one thing to do- fight.

I raised my bow and roared, "Strafe!" Four spectral arrows shot from my bow and slammed into the lycan; it gave a roar of pain and glowed with energy. Too late, I realized I had activated its defensive capabilities. It lunged at me and I leapt aside, but not without its claw slashing into my leg. I yelled in pain as blood dripped down my ankle.

Suddenly, I looked up and I saw a silhouette in the trees above. It had long hair, spectacles and held a bulky weapon in its hand that looked like a crossbow.

_Wait a minute…could that be-_

Tales leapt nimbly from the ledge down towards the lycanthrope and me. I had never been more relieved to see him in my life, to see that familiar, friendly long, amber hair and those recognizable glasses. He raised his crossbow, aiming for the huge wolf, and I shouted, "Hey, Ta-"

Then I realized he hadn't been aiming for the lycan; he had been aiming for me. I had a second's warning before Tales roared, "Strafe!"

Four bolts shot out of his crossbow and embedded themselves in the ground exactly where I had been moments ago. Horrified, I shouted, "Tales, what the hell are you doing?!"

Tales only cast a dark glance at me before aiming at me again and roaring, "Blizzard!" I rolled off to the side, avoiding the deadly spikes of ice, utterly shattered; how could it suddenly have come to this, that my best friend had suddenly become my most dangerous foe?

I raised my bow and aimed, but I dared not fire; instead I could only dodge his attacks as they came. The lycanthrope gave a roar and rounded on Tales, but he roared, "Puppet!" and lured its attention away from the scene of the fight.

"Tales, what the hell are you trying to do?!" I repeated, narrowly avoiding more deadly attacks of icy flak. He lowered his crossbow for a second, then stared me right in the face with a dark expression.

"You wouldn't understand, Phoenix." he said, softly, before reloading his crossbow and launching another set of bolts at me.

I dodged his attack and raised my bow. "Arrow Bomb!" I roared, aiming at the ground close to him, hoping to stun him. However, he only rushed out of the way and disappeared; I looked wildly around for him, but there was no clue to his-

"Power Knock-Back!"

I felt the barrel of a crossbow collide painfully with my body and I flew across the ground, beaten and bruised, and I bumped into the lycanthrope. It gave a vicious roar and swiped at me; I aimed my bow at it and prepared to shout, "Inf-"

But to my amazement, Tales rushed up and roared, "Power Knock-Back!" Totally unprepared, I felt his Raven smash into my Hinkel, knocking it out of my hands into the forest, and then I was on my hands, bottom and knees, staring into the barrel of my best friend's weapon.

"Tales…" I whispered. "W-why?"

He stared into my eyes, scrutinizing me, and merely said, "It's not for you to know, Phoenix. You're better off not knowing. The next world will be a better place for you anyway."

He raised his crossbow. "Farewell, Zeraion Phoenix."

But at the same moment, I saw the lycanthrope looming above the sniper's head, and I shouted, "Tales, look out!"

He ignored my warning and focused his sight on me, but the next thing I knew, the lycanthrope had dealt a swinging blow to Tales' body with its fist, and he flew sideways and smashed into a tree.

"Damn it!" I swore, painfully getting to my feet. My Hinkel was nowhere to be found, but the wolf was quickly rounding on Tales, and I had to do something.

I flicked my wrist, snapped my fingers, and roared "Inferno!" A bolt of flame leapt from my fingers and singed the lycanthrope's fur; it howled in pain and I was determined that if at least I was to die, at least Tales would have a chance to escape.

But to my utter amazement, he had picked up his crossbow and shouted, "Power Knock-Back!", slamming his weapon into me for the third time, and I flew backwards and hit a stone statue with a sickening thud. I heard Tales shout, "Blizzard!" and I could see that he had trapped the lycan in a cage of ice spikes. Once again, I found myself staring down the barrel of the Raven.

"T-Tales…" My mind was racing…how on earth could Tales possibly turn on me now, when I needed him the most?

And then I caught sight of a scar on his shoulder, mostly covered up by his dark robe, but it was the insignia of the head of a dark serpent.

_Gault!_

"Tales, what has he done to you?!" I cried out in anguish.

"Nothing, Phoenix." He loaded a spectral bolt into this crossbow. "Before you die, I want you to know that I really appreciated your company…while it lasted."

He aimed the crossbow at me.

"But you're not the most important person in my life." he said, pulling the trigger.

The bolt slammed into my chest; it was as though somebody had whacked me hard in the stomach with a sledgehammer. I looked down and saw the bolt had run through my body, just missing my internal organs. It didn't matter; I would die soon of blood loss.

Tales made a move for another bolt, but then he stared at me. "It doesn't matter." he said, turning his back on me. "You're as good as dead to me anyway."

Tears came to my dying eyes as I felt my vision cloud over. "T…ales…please…"

_Is this how it all ends, brought down by the one which I had trusted most? _

"D…on't…let…Gault…do…th…is…to…you…" Blood slowly trickled out of the corner of my mouth.

He turned to give me one last glare, then slowly began to walk across the forest clearing, on his way out. The lycan continued to howl in its icy cage.

_At least…I'll see Grace…again…_

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a man standing on the forest ledge above me; a black-haired man, carrying a bow; he looked somewhat like Gault, but it couldn't be. Gault was deep in the Victorian Sanctuary. I was probably just hallucinating…

But I wasn't, and as the man raised his bow and nocked an arrow to it, I knew that he was as real as the blood and the stone around me; with the last of my strength, I managed to gasp, "…Tales!"

He turned to see the man, his bow raised, and there was the sound of a bowstring being pulled and released. I closed my eyes; I didn't want to see Tales die right here, right now, even as I was going; there was a sound of arrow hitting flesh and a cry of pain and anguish.

But when I opened my eyes, Tales was still standing; so who had the arrow hit-

The lycan. The lycan had disappeared now; even with the last of my fading strength I craned to catch a glimpse of it. Tales' ice had melted; had the lycan escaped?

Then, I caught sight of a woman, lying on the ground in a pool of slowly spreading blood; a beautiful woman, with long, amber hair-

_Tales' hair._

I made a sound of amazement; Tales was still staring, open-mouthed, at the fallen woman, a look of utter disbelief and shock on his face; he whirled around, but the black-haired man with the bow was no longer there.

_No…It can't be…_

I heard a cry, a soft, whimpering cry of animalistic pain, and I saw Tales, on his knees…sobbing. I had not thought that the sniper even knew how to cry; all my life I'd only seen him with minimal emotion.

Then I heard a voice, a soft, feminine voice, through my fading hearing.

"R…Rysdale?"

"L-…" Tales' voice was choked up with sobs. "Laura, I…I'm so sorry…I couldn't protect you…"

"Rysdale, please don't…" The woman gave a short moan of pain. "Don't…cry for me…I love you so much…little brother…"

"Laura, _no!_" Tales sobbed, still holding his sister's limp, bloodied hand. "P-please, don't leave me…!"

"You can…take care of yourself now…" I could almost see Tales' sister smile. "You're…a big…boy now…you don't need me…"

"_No!" _Tales sobbed in an almost hysterical voice; I closed my eyes, his pain was too unbearable for me to watch. "Don't l-leave me! You…took care of me…ever since Mom and Dad…"

She only smiled up at him. "Good-bye…Rysdale…"

"Laura! Don't go! _I love you!_" Tales howled, sobbing, his face bowed over his sister's limp body.

Then I heard someone's voice; the sound of wings beating. Someone picked me up, but at that moment, I could see no more, and I fell into the abyss.

-----

When I woke up, I could see a bright light; I was in a room with white ceilings and windows.

"Am I in heaven?" I murmured.

"No, you're very much alive, thankfully." I squinted and I saw a silhouette against the light.

"Arklanser!" I gasped. Her arm was in a sling, but she looked otherwise perfectly healthy. "I thought you-"

"Yeah, same here." She sighed. "You're very lucky Rysdale didn't aim for any of your organs. If he did, you'd be dead."

I sighed. "I should thank him."

"As a matter of fact, listen…Tales wants to see you."

"He does?" I murmured surprisedly.

"Yes, he does." she said, gently. "And he asked for privacy, so…I'll leave the two of you alone now." She left the room, and Tales entered through the door. I didn't want to see his face, but he looked remarkably normal.

He sat down by the bed, not saying anything. Finally, he asked, "You're all right, then?"

"Yes." I nodded; the bandages around my chest felt stiff, but everything was holding up quite fine. Neither of us spoke another word for several minutes.

"Tales…" I murmured, breaking the silence. He nodded.

"Your parents…weren't really killed in an avalanche, were they?"

He turned away, a tear glistening in his right eye, then sighed. "It was fifteen years ago. We were mountain climbing in the Snowfield, and we were told that the mountains were safe in daylight."

He stared out the window, then continued. "Once we had ascended the mountain, we discovered that a lycanthrope had been awake in a cave underneath us. We tried to sneak past it as quietly as possible, but…" He brushed at his eyes with his sleeve. "I tripped, fell over the ledge, and landed right in front of the lycan."

I remained quiet, and he continued in a soft voice. "My parents…gave their lives so that my sister and I could escape. But in the end, it wasn't enough. The wolf came closer and closer…"

He paused for a second, then resumed his tale. "And suddenly, I heard a shout of 'Teleport!' and I saw my sister fighting the lycanthrope. Our parents had already wounded it severely and she killed it…but she got bitten."

He sighed. "She would always tell me she needed to go out every full moon, and I always wondered why, until one day…I saw her in her feral form. She nearly killed me in her bloodlust that night, but I promised that some day I would help her recover from her curse."

He let his hand fall limply onto his lap, and I took his other hand. "Tales…there is no known cure for lycanthropy. She would have only suffered the rest of her life. At least…she's in a better place right now."

He sighed. "Thank you, Phoenix." He polished his spectacles on the hem of his robe, then spoke. "When you brought Grace back that night, I couldn't feel your pain of losing a loved one…"

He sighed deeply. "But now I can."

I lay back into the soft pillow, relaxing. Both Tales and I had lost a loved one to the same person; it was a tragic bond, but it could only cement our friendship all the same.

"Tales…"

"Yes?"

"Promise me you'll help me defeat Gault."

He was silent for a moment, then squeezed my hand. "I promise, Phoenix."

-----

Author's Note: Wootness, I finally finished writing this chapter! Yay! Now my sore hands can get a rest!

And for those of you wondering, this is not going to be yaoi, I just thought a little bonding between Zer and Tales would be cute. However, it does set the stage somewhat for the ending of the story. (Gets shot with a tranquilizer gun by the people in white coats who won't let me spoil the plot)

Anyways…Yayness! I got 12 reviews this time around…now remember, it took all of my will power to write this, despite me having TWO projects due on Tuesday which I haven't even started yet…so please, I beg you, give that little blue button in the corner some company.

-Kal Ancalas


	8. Lightbringer

**Chapter 7**

Author's Note: To start things off…I finally got my PIN back. Unfortunately, as one would expect, I no longer have any items or money whatsoever. Nevertheless, I'm still grateful that I can have my beloved ranger back. (Still, I'm usually too busy to play anyway, so if you have items/money that you don't need in Bera, PM me.)

Thanks for all your reviews, I appreciated most of them. Now, on to my point. First of all, I know I'll probably piss off some people for this, but I cannot and I will not add any more characters to the story. I already have the rest of the story in a rough plot awaiting revision sitting on a flash drive somewhere in my bedroom and to add another character to the plot would only clutter up the story. Sorry, but them's the breaks.

Also, I feel it is only fair to cite some of the inspiration for this story; in addition to the Eragon series (and when the third book of the trilogy is released, I'll be the first one there with a bazooka), I also draw inspiration heavily (which is fancy language for 'plagiarize' :P) from the games Tales of Symphonia and Tales of the Abyss. (You've already seen it when I explained that Rysdale Tales and Natalia Arundale are parallels for Jade Curtiss and Natalia Luzu Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, except that Tales is about 14 years younger than Jade. It doesn't help that I named Tales' father Jade, either. xP)

I want to kill someone at Namco for not releasing Tales of the Abyss for GCN, too.

That being said, while reading the first scene of this chapter, I would recommend playing a song like My Immortal. It helps.

* * *

_7 Months Later_

It was a cold day in the town of Henesys; cold, yet enjoyable. Snowflakes, falling fiercely one moment, gently drifting the next, floated from the iron-gray sky. Children, eagerly bundled up in their winter clothes, eagerly ran outside to build snowmen and throw snowballs at each other. There was no sign of sadness throughout the atmosphere, save for one soul.

A tall figure, well-built, with long amber-colored hair that drifted past his shoulders, gently fluttering in the snowy wind crossed through the streets of the town. He wore spectacles that hung haphazardly on the bridge of his nose and the handle of a crossbow was visible from the snowy quiver that he wore on his back.

He rounded the corner and crossed into Mushroom Park, sidestepping a few snowballs from some excited kids. Slowly, he continued his strolling walk, his boots crunching against the hard, frozen ground.

Finally, he reached his destination; the silent cemetery in Mushroom Park. Save for the whirling sound of the snowflakes as they thudded against the silent, white gravestones, he was completely alone in the bleak, desolate world.

He stood silently, his hands in his sleek, blue jacket to protect from the cold, not saying anything, only staring at the hard, cold stones before him.

Finally, he sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose and blinking away a single tear. It froze before it hit the ground and tinkled ever so lightly against the hard-packed ground.

_I used to like the snow…_

From the depths of his jacket, he drew out a single photograph and stared at it; a picture of a long-haired mage wearing spectacles, a female chief bandit flanking his side; and two children, a teenage girl and a six-year old boy.

_Until the day it took you away…_

Another crystal fell from his eye as he slowly stared at the picture, then tucked it back into the folds of his long jacket.

* * *

"_Well, kids, here we are!" the tall, amber-haired man declared proudly, throwing aside his arms to reveal a snow-covered mountain in the distance._

"_This is the place?" the blonde-haired boy asked, somewhat disgustedly, as if the great snow-capped mountains of El Nath had failed him somehow._

_A dark brown-haired woman, dressed in a light jacket, despite the cold, gently threaded her fingers through her son's hair. "Now, now, Rysdale, be nice…Daddy paid a lot of money for this vacation, and it's a rare occurrence that he gets a break from his job as the head of the Ellinian research magicians, so try to enjoy it as best as you can, okay, honey?"_

_"I still don't like it." the boy muttered, pouting slightly._

"_Aw, come on, little brother." the amber-haired girl said, her Thorns in one hand as she tenderly stroked her sibling's cheek with the other. "How bad could it be?"_

_The boy bit his lip sheepishly, as his father chuckled. "Come on, Rysdale, I'm sure you'll like this place soon enough." He took his son's hand and led him towards the foot of the massive mountain. "Our house is just up there." he said, pointing to the summit of the great peak._

"_H-how are we going to get all the way up there?" he asked nervously._

"_We're going to climb up, of course!" his father said proudly, pulling out four sets of climbing paraphernalia from the heavy sack on his back._

"_B-but…" The youngster's face turned pale. "Daddy, I…I don't like heights…"_

_His mother put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you won't fall...We'll be watching you the whole time…"_

"_I DON'T WANNA GO! I DON'T WANNA GO!"_

_The mage sighed, rolling his eyes to look at his wife and son. She giggled. "It doesn't matter, Jade, he probably needs some fresh air anyway. Take him along."_

_"Will do." The mage hefted his son over his shoulder._

_"NO, DADDY! NO NO NO! I DON'T WANT TO CLIMB THE SCARY MOUNTAIN! PUT ME DOWN!"_

_They only laughed and tied him to a safety harness, then pulled him up slowly as they climbed up the mountain. He was very much frightened through the whole ordeal, staring down below him and screaming every few seconds._

"_Mommy! Daddy! I'm gonna fall!" he squealed, clutching his rope so hard his knuckles turned white._

"_Don't worry…we're almost there soon." his mother said, sighing in slight annoyance._

"_I don't like the scary mountain! I wanna go home!"_

_"Mom, you want to tranquilize him or something?" his sister yelled from the side. _

_-----_

He shook the snow from his long amber hair, then slowly drew from his jacket three large, white roses, their petals as white as the snow swirling around them.

_-----_

_When they finally got up, it had seemed like an eternity; he was totally drenched in sweat and barely able to make a coherent sound._

"_See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" his father laughed, shaking the snow from his hair._

"_It was cold." he muttered, blowing his nose into a tissue. "I want to go back to Henesys."_

"_We just got here!" His father threw his arms up in the air. "You need some fresh air…"_

_"I don't like the fresh air." he said stubbornly. "It's cold."_

_His mother shook her head. "Well, you'd better get used to it. We're climbing another mountain tomorrow."_

_"WHAT?!" he screamed in as loud a voice as a six-year old was capable of._

"_Stop shouting, little brother." his sister said from the window. "Or you'll cause an avalanche."_

_"I DON'T WANNA GO!" he squealed, clutching at his father's legs._

_Slowly, the mage pried his son off of him. "Get a good night's rest, Rysdale, and I'm sure you'll feel better. Okay?"_

_He shuffled into his room and climbed into bed; he lay awake for a few hours, unpleasant thoughts swirling through his brain._

_-----_

Slowly, he laid two of the beautiful roses, their stems crossed, onto the white gravestone in front of him.

"Mom…Dad…" he murmured, gently brushing the snow off of the tomb.

"I'm…sorry…"

_-----_

_The next morning, he was extremely jittery and couldn't swallow a bite of breakfast. It didn't help matters when his father led them outside, tying the familiar harness around him again._

"_It's only a short climb." he said, reassuringly patting his back. "Don't be scared."_

_He made no sound other than a slight squeak, and he felt his sister's weight pulling him up. He shut his eyes, bit his lip, and waited for it to be all over._

_Finally, after what seemed like a second eternity, he heard his father say, "All right, that's enough." and he felt his sister pull him onto the icy ledge._

"_This looks like a good place to stop." he said, his sharp eyes scanning the area. "Laura, Rysdale, you can go wander around for a while if you want, but stay together, okay?"_

_"Sure, Dad." the wizard nodded, pulling her brother along. "Come on, Rys, let's see if we can find a hidden cave or something. I'm getting kind of tired…"_

_He followed, hugging close to his sibling as they carefully traveled along the icy paths. _

_Suddenly, his eye caught sight of a crevice in the icy wall._

"_Laura!" he squealed, yanking his sister's hand. "Laura, I found a cave…"_

_But his sister wasn't there. He stared in shock and looked behind him; there was a forked path a few yards behind. He'd lost her._

"_Laura!" he squealed, calling his sister's name. "Laura, where are you? I'm scared…!"_

_But no one was there to hear his plea, not even his parents or his sister. He blindly dashed up the other path, looking frantically for his sister._

"_Laura!" he screamed. "Sis! Where are you?"_

_There was no answer, save for the roaring of the approaching wind._

_With a howl, the icy blizzard winds from the west reached the mountain, pounding it with its icy fists; he cried as the freezing winds knifed his exposed cheeks. His hot tears rolled down his face and froze quickly in the atmosphere._

_He caught sight of a human silhouette in the distance; could that perhaps be his sister? He dashed towards it…_

_And with a scream, he tripped over a stray stone, his arms flailing and his cry lost in the wind as he toppled over the edge of the great mountain._

_With a painful thud, he fell onto a hard patch of compacted, frozen snow. He felt pain shoot through his body as he landed; the wind had gotten so strong that it hurt to keep his eyes open. There was no sign of his sister or the ledge she'd been on._

"_L-Laura?" he whimpered, blindly and painfully feeling his way along the icy path. "I-I'm scared…"_

_He strained to listen for a response; only the bitter, harsh wind, and a soft growling noise…_

_He turned around to see a huge, white-furred lycanthrope, its great glittering claws out, growling softly as it eyed the terrified boy. It pawed the ground, its breath rising as it smelled prey._

_Then it charged, throwing itself at him; he threw himself blindly to one side and ran, not caring where he was going, crying and screaming. "MOMMY! DADDY! HELP! PLEASE! SAVE ME!" He could feel the wolf's hot breath on his heels; he could see a tiny crevice in the ice in front of him and he made a dash for it._

_The wolf angrily pawed at the tight hole that he'd squeezed himself into, roaring and howling. He curled himself tightly into a ball, still sobbing. "Please…Daddy…Mommy…someone…"_

_Suddenly, he heard a shout; someone's voice._

"_Aria, find Rysdale! I'll hold it off! Thunder Spear!"_

_"D-Daddy?" he shivered, recognizing his father's voice. There were bright flashes of light outside; horrible roars and screams as the battle outside raged on._

"_Jade, I can't find him!" he heard a woman scream, barely legible in the howling wind and the wolf's roars._

"_Mommy!" he screamed with all the strength he could muster. "I'm right here!" But the wind carried away his fragile voice, and flung it to the sky._

_He heard the wolf roar viciously, a few shouts and screams, and he hid his face in his arms, sobbing profusely. "Mommy…Daddy…"_

_When he opened his eyes, tears obscuring his vision, he saw red on his arm. He looked up and saw the snow was red, crimson flakes staining the ground. The lycanthrope lumbered closer, sniffing him out; its white fur was horribly matted with red snow. His parents were nowhere to be seen._

_He stared down at his feet and a flash of metal caught his eye; he sifted through the snow with his painfully frozen fingers and picked up the cracked spectacles._

"_Daddy?" he gasped, his eyes filling with tears._

_Slowly, the wolf crawled closer; it got close enough and he saw its face, glittering evilly. It swiped at him, the razor-sharp claws missing his face by an inch. _

_He closed his eyes, waiting for it to end; he could feel the beast's hot breath on his face._

_Then all of a sudden, like a ray of light, he heard a cry of "Teleport!" and he saw a girl appear out of thin air, flinging bolts of flame at the wolf…_

"_Laura!" he yelled. The girl turned to eye him and at the same time, the wolf leaped forward and sunk its teeth into her shoulder._

_She gave a cry of pain and roared, "Fire Arrow!", sinking a shimmering bolt of orange fire hurtling at the great beast; it tottered slowly, and then fell to the ground with a great thud._

"_Rysdale…" She ran to him, despite the fact that her shoulder was bleeding. "Where…how…I…" She couldn't say any more and she hugged him close, her warmth comforting him._

"_Sis…" He sobbed. "I'm sorry…It's all my fault…"_

_"No…" She ran her bloodied fingers through his hair. "You're my little brother, and I'll always love you…no matter what…"_

_-----_

He gently laid the third rose in its proper place, one last snowdrop falling from his eye and hitting the ground.

"I love you, sis." he murmured softly, before standing up and leaving the silent cemetery.

_I promised you I would find the legendary cure…but it's too late now. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, like you protected me…_

…_.But like Phoenix said, at least you're in a better place now, and you're with Mom and Dad. The only thing left for me to do is revenge myself upon your murderer. Only then will I be at peace._

The dark serpent burnt on his shoulder hissed softly as he walked along the frozen path.

-----

Zeraion Phoenix slowly walked across the frozen Henesys ground, two flowers in his hand. The archery grounds were silent; no one dared practice in this blizzard, but that was not to stop him. He merely continued to walk through the swirling vortex of snow until he reached the small cross that had been erected some months ago for her.

"Hey, Grace." he murmured, trying to smile. "I brought you a present."

He stared at the silent stone; it offered no action in reply. Nevertheless, he laid a flower against the cross.

"Just thought you might like to know..." His long Pris robe fluttered in the cold wind. "I hit 80 today…" He stared some more at the ice-encrusted stone, then sighed. "We're even now."

A frozen tear fell from his eye as he continued. "Why did you have to use forbidden magic? If it wasn't for that damned necromancy…you could still be here…"

He sighed. "It's not for us to meddle in the affairs of darkness. Gault's already proved that." He huddled his robe around him to ward off the cold.

"Oh yeah, by the way…Ascion sent a flower too." Phoenix managed a smile as he laid the second flower against the cross. "He really liked you…even though he made us the object of amusement more than anything, it was-"

He paused, the words sticking in his throat.

"I…I loved you." he sighed, the cold wind muting his words. "I still do. Even if…even if what Gault said was true, it just-" His breath caught in his throat for a moment. "…You didn't deserve to die at his hands. No one did."

He sighed. "Even if it costs me my life…I promise that I will avenge you."

He folded his hands and murmured a quick prayer, then bowed his head and left, the snowy wind blowing furiously against his ears.

-----

Darkly, I entered the main headquarters of The Resistance; there were several groups of people of all classes, warrior, bowman, magician, and thief alike. Apparently, Gardner had managed to make good on his word and recruit people for the occasion.

I rounded the corner and glanced at the occupants of the small room; Gardner was there, talking with Arundale, while Ark's companions, Marron and Ryden, watched listlessly. I could only guess as to where everyone else was.

"Hey." I murmured, setting myself down in a chair. "Where is everyone?"

"Moping around in their rooms." Gardner sighed. "Everyone gets really moody this time of year, if you must know."

"Really?" I murmured.

"Yep." He lay back in his chair and chased down a shot of something I didn't know the name of. "Don't think we all have perfect lives, Phoenix. The world isn't perfect; no one can live their life without being touched by the hand of misfortune…" He stared out the snowy window.

I cast a quizzical glance at Arundale; she merely replied with a 'Yeah, I know he's weird' look.

Gardner cleared his throat, causing us all to jump. "Anyway, Phoenix, Athena and I have been talking about you-"

I felt the tips of my ears turn pink.

"-And in regards to your further training," he murmured, refilling his tiny shot glass from a tall glass bottle on the table, "we've decided that the best thing for you, at this stage in your life, would be for you to take swordsmanship lessons."

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering if I had been deafened by the wind.

He continued to stare at me with his icy cobalt eyes, until I had to look away. "Swordsmanship, Phoenix." he repeated, downing the glass. "You can't just expect to hide away from the enemy, sniping your whole life. Eventually, you'll need to pull out that sword and slash your way through any obstacles that await you."

I wondered if the alcohol had gotten to his mind; it seemed more than likely. Nevertheless, he seemed perfectly sober as he refilled the glass for the third time. "The ability to wield a blade in close quarters is an essential skill for any bowman. You'll come to realize that soon enough."

"I…" I had taken fencing lessons from Ark as a youth, but what Gardner seemed to be referring to pointed way beyond the basics of waving a sword around.

"Now," he murmured, taking his third shot of liquor, "I've spoken to these two; along with your brother, they train under a warrior named Keiga Seles. He was one of the best; graduated at the top of his class in the Perion Guard Academy, which was- and is- the highest warrior school out there. He also happens to be a longtime friend of mine; I spoke to him and he said he'd be more than happy to teach you a bit of swordplay."

"And he also happens to be a jackass." the fighter-turned-crusader Ryden mumbled from the side of the table.

"Well…" Gardner chuckled. "They didn't call him Keiga the Mant for nothing back in those days. But if it interests you, Phoenix, he is a Dark Knight."

"What?" I spluttered; even Marron and Ryden looked surprised. "You mean the fourth class actually exists?"

"It has and always will." Gardner said, refilling his glass once more. "The thing is, it's not so simple as merely getting to a certain level and taking some hokey-pokey test. You must actually be judged worthy by the spirits; it's not for the mortals to decide who gets this power and who doesn't. Because of this, people have gotten to the fourth class as early as 100, or as late as 150. It depends on how good you are- and in case you're wondering, Seles made it at 105, which should give you an idea of just how strong he is."

I heard Marron mutter, "How come Seles never told us he was a freakin' Dark Knight?"

I sighed. "So that means I'll be taking classes with you guys, then?"

"Probably." Ryden smiled. "I look forward to it."

"Me too." Marron sighed, but I could detect a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

Ryden sighed. "Don't be a killjoy, Dariel. Come on, let's see if Ark is around. I want a friendly duel."

The two crusaders left the table; Gardner finished his fourth glass and said, "And by the way, Phoenix, Athena also wants to see you." He got up to leave as well, but I stopped him.

"Wait!"

He turned and looked sedately at me with his eerie electric-blue eyes. "Yes, Phoenix?"

"What…level are you?" I asked, slowly.

"One hundred twenty-six." he said, turning back, taking out his Shinebow, and leaving through the front door into the blizzard.

"Sheesh." I slumped back into my chair.

Arundale laughed. "What of it? He's about seventeen years older than you are."

"True, but…" I rumpled my hair. "He's a Bowmaster, isn't he?"

"Yes." she nodded; I had gathered as much from my kidnapping by the Balrogs some months ago. "Doesn't he ever get drunk?"

"Nah. He's one of those people that seems unfazed by anything. Iggy, on the other hand, though…" She shook her head, her orange-brown hair rippling around her neck. "Well, you can't really blame him." she said softly.

"What do you mean?" I asked her curiously; in answer, she only gave me a sad look.

"You don't know why Igzarion drinks?" she asked.

"No…"

"Ah." She sighed. "Well, just so that you know, we were quite a band of kids back then." She stared wistfully out the snowy window. "Rysdale, Traphes, Delinia…even Gault." She turned her gaze back at me. "I suppose that's why he ended up involving us in this whole mess."

"You knew each other?" I said, slightly surprised.

"Yes." She sighed. "They called us the 'Devil Children' back then."

"Why?" I asked, now thoroughly amazed.

She gave me the same sad look. "By the time we were about thirteen or so, we all knew each other's histories very well." She took a deep breath.

I waited for her to continue. "Yes?"

"We were all orphans, Phoenix." she said softly, her voice barely audible. "We had all lost our parents at an early age, usually having nothing more than an older sibling to care for us. Because of this, the village of Henesys more or less ostracized us. Athena was the only one who showed us any kindness." She sighed.

"Oh." I said, softly. "I'm…sorry. I lost my parents at an early age, too."

"It's nothing." she murmured, a tear glistening in her eye. I was highly tempted to ask her the backstory behind how she, Igzarion, and Arklanser were orphaned, but that would be downright insensitive. Therefore, I took my leave of her, wrapped my robe around myself, and ventured into the snowstorm.

-----

Furiously, I tried to beat back the angry bursts of icy wind that constantly surrounded me; the snowfall had grown into a full-fledged blizzard while I had been talking. Swearing slightly, I tried to use Inferno, but the winds extinguished the flames as soon as I summoned them. It was a miracle that I managed to stumble blindly into Athena's abode.

She glanced up, a few candles illuminating the room. "Good evening, Phoenix. Try not to get too much snow inside."

"Yes." I nodded and shut the door firmly. "It's quite a blizzard."

"Indeed." she responded. "It's the largest in about sixty years, I would think."

"Gardner sent word that you wanted to see me." I melted the snow off of my body with a quick wave of my hand. "What is it?"

She regarded me with a strange expression. "Just some congratulations on 80; nothing more."

"I should hope not." I sighed under my breath. This, unfortunately, reached Athena's sharp ears.

"Punctual as ever, Phoenix." she muttered. "Now, judging from your attire, I see that you've managed to outfit yourself in armor to suit the occasion; but you are still lacking in a suitable weapon, correct?"

"Yes." I said, flexing my Hinkel.

"Well, then you may be in luck." She fixed a serious expression on me. "Have you heard of the legend of the Demon Children?"

"I…can't say I have." I responded. Neither my father, nor Ark, had been the kind of people who read bedtime stories at night.

"Well, I won't bore you with a troublesome explanation, but the story goes that there was a prophecy that four Divine Children, born from the stars, would arise and defeat a great evil; a demon that had been ravaging the world. They were a warrior, a magician, a thief…and yes, a bowman." she said, continuing to stare expectantly at me.

"Now, the legend goes on to say, it was an epic battle and many lives were lost…but the Divine Children managed to defeat the demon using a technique known as soul transumtation. It is a branch of alchemy that involves sacrificing part, or all, of your soul. Souls are just that; pure spirits that contain massive amounts of untapped energy. This energy can be harnessed in countless ways. However, when the soul transmutation occurred, the demon was not totally banished; only sealed away. The Children fell to the darkness after this sacrifice, and the demon still lives on, inside the Children's weapons."

She returned my look. "It's true that it is a much-cliched and typical fairy tale, but there are seeds of truth in it; soul transmutation is actually a real method of alchemy that can be used. However, the user cannot perform the spell without sacrificing their life-force, which, needless to say, made the art rare and obsolete."

She sighed, then continued. "In addition, while the actual legend is somewhat skewed, there do exist a set of weapons known as the Demonics; weapons that bear traces of dark magic and that are believed to be related to the Demon Children's legend. We have found them, buried in the ground after millenia; and we do not know from whence they came. They are branded with necromantic runes that grant them incredible power."

I nodded, and she went on. "The Demonics are not to be trifled with; the runes affixed to them contain large amounts of unstable magic that will consume anyone who tries to wield them. Now what I am trying to say is, that theoretically, if this power could be harnessed, it would make its bearer godlike…nearly invincible."

"But…surely, this power couldn't be harnessed?" I asked.

"Many have tried, and all have failed." she responded. "However, we have managed to decipher, at least partially, the runes imprinted on the Demonics. All of them point to the same thing; only one with the power of the 'high knights, archmages, bowmasters, and masters of the night' can wield them. Basically, that refers to the fourth class."

"So that makes them near impossible to wield." I said, darkly.

"Near impossible, yes," Athena said, a strange glint in her eye, "but not impossible." She turned to face me directly. "What exactly do you think the power of, say, the bowmasters, would entail?"

"I…" I thumbed through my mind, but it came up empty.

She continued to glance at me. "Remember what I told you, four years ago, when you wished to learn the intricacies of a Hunter?"

Then it hit me like a tidal wave.

"_Those precious few, they survived and they mastered the technique. They became dominated by it, and they ignored the rules of our limits. They went above and beyond, creating attacks way beyond the grasp of even rangers and snipers. Dragon Pulse is one. Hurricane is another. However, Final Attack corrupted their minds, and those that remain have mostly sealed themselves away from the world, knowing their power and the destruction they could wreak with it…"_

"…_They are the bowmasters and crossbowmasters, Phoenix." _

"_N-no way…So Final Attack is the key to the legendary fourth job?"_

_"Yes, Zeraion." _

"Final Attack!" I gasped.

"Exactly, Zeraion." She fixed her steely glance on me. "And that-" she said, drawing something from under her desk, "is why I believe you will be able to wield…this."

She set a bow onto the hard desk. I glanced at it; it was an Arund, but it emitted a kind of evil aura. I could actually hear it rhythmically humming in a soft tone. It was a dark shade of night, save for the handles, which were dark gold. Unlike a normal bow, I saw the color of the metal-was it even made of metal?- fade in and out into several spectrums of black as I stared at it. There were undecipherable symbols carved in one side of it.

"This is the Abyssal Arund, Phoenix." she said, her voice sounding very impressive despite the howling winds outside. "And it is one of the four Demonics."

-----

I sat there, gaping at the bow that Athena had set before me. "This was one of the Divine Children's weapons?"

"Not exactly; we don't know if the legend is true, but it very well could be." she said darkly. "The other weapons are the Umbral Helios, Hellish Ritual, and the Grim Mamba. It can be conferred from this that the Divine Children, if they existed, were probably around level 80."

I sat still, staring at the bow; I could feel its essence pulsing through the air. It felt…evil. It reminded me, somehow, of Gault.

As if she read my thoughts, Athena said darkly, "Gault Isentryx also used this weapon some years ago."

"He what?!" I said in disbelief.

"He first obtained the Abyssal Arund from defeating my dark form during his third-class advancement exam." she sighed. "He kept it to himself for a brace of years, but inexplicably, one day, he returned it to me. I was extremely surprised and shocked when he relinquished this incredibly powerful weapon, but a later visit from Rathias Gardner only confirmed my worst suspicion; that he had found a weapon whose power surpassed that of even the Demonic."

"The Shinebow." I murmured.

"Yes." She sighed. "I debated with Rathias for a long while about whether to give it to you, but in the end, we agreed that it was the only advantage that you could gain over Gault while he still possessed the Shinebow."

"What…are its properties?" I asked. "Surely an artifact such as this would contain some kind of supernatural power?"

She gave me a kind of down-to-earth look. "I thought you'd never ask."

I sighed, and she continued. "Now, in the ten levels that you trained with me during your time as a third-class bowman, you were able to learn all the techniques of a Ranger; Inferno, Strafe, Arrow Rain, Puppet, Silver Hawk, and Thrust. Even if you haven't completely mastered them, I believe you're competent in all of them."

"Thank you." I murmured. She regarded me with an amused air. "In any case, the Abyssal Arund will amplify those skills, as well as greatly improve the power of your Final Attack."

"That's good to hear." I sighed; no longer would I have to fear creatures like the Crimson Balrog with this new force at my disposal.

"However…" Athena's gaze turned serious. "The Abyssal Arund, as well as the other Demonica, also carries another power. I believe you've been using Inferno to imbue your arrows with the element of fire, is that correct?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"All of the Demonica carry extremely high mana charges." she said. "This charge, while highly destructive to a body, also carries a special quality if harnessed." She glanced at me. "Do you know how the fusion reactors in the Kerning City power plant work?"

"No…" I muttered sheepishly. She sighed. "While this is an extremely vague explanation, unbelievably high temperatures are used to fuse fuel particles together and create large amounts of energy. The Demonica work on the same principle; using the mana charge, you can theoretically fuse your attacks together. Therefore, you could fuse Inferno and Arrow Rain to obtain Omega Crush Rain, Strafe and Arrow Rain to create Arrow Vanquisher…the possibilities are enormous. Normally, the mana strain would kill a person, but given your experience with Final Attack, I believe you will be able to use this ability well."

I grimaced. _Reassuring._

"And one more thing, although it may seem inconsequential. Your Puppet technique will also be changed with the Abyssal Arund; instead of summoning a straw decoy, you can summon a real-life copy of yourself that will be able to attack and defend on its own. These doppelgangers can be extremely useful in battle."

I nodded and mustered the courage to touch the Abyssal Arund. As soon as my finger touched its eerily cold, hard surface, it was as though a bolt of energy shot through my body; an extremely powerful, vicious force that reminded me of Final Attack recoil.

_No! I…must control…the…power…_

Furiously, the Abyssal Arund and I continued our mental tug-of-war, until finally when I could stand no more, it backed down and returned to its inert form.

Athena bowed ever so slightly. "Congratulations, Phoenix. The Abyssal Arund has chosen you as its master."

I put the bow in my quiver, wondering inwardly how an inanimate object could 'choose' me as its 'master', but I declined to pursue the question further and thanked Athena.

I left her house, the wind still blowing furiously as the bow softly thrummed in my quiver.

_What surprises do you hold…?_

_-----_

While the furious blizzard pounded Victoria Island, Gault Isentryx sat in the Sanctuary, continuing to meditate. He no longer needed food or drink to survive; he drew life energy from the beings that hung around him. It was a despicable way to live, but he could not risk going to the surface. He looked like a demon more than anything; a black-haired, blood-eyed demon, a bow hung across his back. His voice no longer sounded human and his skin had a pale, lifeless tint to it.

He opened his eyes; the effect was immediate, the monsters around him quickly moving away from him in fear. Slowly, he licked his lips, then pointed a clawed finger into the darkness at a nearby Taurospear. There was a scream of pain as he absorbed his victim's life force into his body, then eerie silence.

_I see that Zeraion Phoenix has obtained the Abyssal Arund. It is a wonder I did not finish him off before then, but no matter. In a way, it is ironically amusing…the Abyssal Arund is a weapon of darkness, and it is in the hands of our Lightbringer…and I, a dark force, wield the Shinebow, a weapon of light._

_He despises me…and yet, with this new force, he may be the key to my new plans._

_We shall see._

_-----_

The next morning dawned, and the blizzard had thankfully stopped, leaving a beautiful blanket of white over the fields of Henesys. I took a minute to admire it before taking a cold shower and changing into my Pris, then heading downstairs.

I greeted everyone at the table and helped myself to some toast and eggs; I asked Gardner, "Any more leads?"

"No." He shook his head. "We stayed up all night combing Victoria, but no luck. That leaves Ossyria, Ludibrium, and the Sanctuary."

"Personally, I would have to say the Sanctuary," Tales murmured thickly through a full mouth. "That's where he was last time when I went to meet him…"

Gardner spewed coffee all over the table. "And you didn't tell us?" he said, a vein bulging in his temple.

"Sorry, Rathias. I guess it slipped my mind." Tales said nonchalantly, while there were a few giggles around the table.

"We did have a search team a couple of days ago in the Dungeon, but it came up empty-handed." Igzarion said.

"Then you obviously didn't search hard enough." he said, thoroughly aggravated. "Iggy, you want to lead another party down there?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "I need some time off, if you must know."

"Don't we all." Gardner sighed. "Alright, Rysdale and Natalia, you two go down there and do a scouting. Delinia and I will go to Ludibrium, and Iggy…well, go do whatever it is that you do around here." he finished in a dismayed tone.

"Will do." Igzarion said, picking up his almost untouched plate of food and stonily walking away. I remembered Arundale's words from last night; even out of all of them, what exactly was it that made him especially…distant?

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked Gardner.

He cast a sideways glance at me. "You're supposed to go train with Seles at Perion. After you do the dishes with Tales. It's your turn for kitchen duty today."

"Oh…right."

"Cheer up, Phoenix." Tales said as we went to the kitchen for kitchen duty. "How bad could it be?"

"Worse than cleaning up two hundred dishes, perhaps?" I muttered in a dry tone.

"Actually, at last count, I believe it was a hundred and fifty-seven."

"You're not helping." I muttered, turning on the faucet.

-----

The sun was shining down as I made my way to Perion, swearing every so often as I glanced up and was temporarily blinded by the sun. Exactly why I hadn't shelled out a handful of mesos to take the taxi was beyond me now- but I knew that I was at least halfway there, and turning back would be a waste of time.

I sidestepped a few wandering stumps and continued on; although the sun was shining brightly in the sky, no matter how bright and how happy the future looked, it was all clear. Gault was out there, somewhere, and he was likely plotting the slaughter of more innocents even as I thought. I had to stop him.

I had gotten accustomed to the soft thrum of the bow in my quiver; although it was somewhat strange to admit, I felt comforted by it…as though it wasn't an inanimate weapon, but rather, a friend…

_Heat does do strange things to people. _Sighing, I raked a clump of sweaty hair out of my face and continued onwards.

Finally, I stumbled into the town of Perion, very much dehydrated and red-faced. I managed to walk into the potion shop, panting.

"What do you want?" the shopkeeper asked gruffly.

"One bottle of water, please…" I drew a few coins from my pocket. "And do you know where Keiga Seles is, by the way? I need to meet him…"

"The Mant?" The shopkeeper amusedly handed me the bottle of water as I eagerly quaffed it down. "If you're looking to get your behind handed to you on a silver platter, then he usually teaches in the Dangerous Valley, but I don't see what someone like you would be willing to do with him…"

"Thanks for your help." I muttered, turning away and leaving the dank tent. Dangerous Valley, huh? Slowly, I headed towards Perion's east exit, once more pitted against the vicious sun.

-----

The Ant Tunnel was unusually hustle-and-bustle, even for a weekend. Lots of people were grouped around, enjoying a talk or fighting the various fungus spawns, and there was the usual assortment of clerics playfully harassing the poor warriors.

"Slash Bl-Ack!" A nearby fighter screamed as a blast of green light nearly hit him in the face.

"Oh, sorry." another female cleric said, dryly. "Did I hit you with that Heal?"

"Shut up." the fighter scowled, readying his blade in preparation for the next spawn.

A new group of zombie mushrooms appeared, charging out, but before anyone could react, there was a shout of "Blizzard!" Several ice floes tore through the ground, slaughtering the monsters; the adventurers were all left staring as two people made their way through the tunnel; a long-haired sniper wearing glasses and a female ranger with shorter, orange-brown hair.

"What the-" There was a hurried series of whispers as everyone stared at the newcomers, but they only continued walking on.

"Sorry, kids." the sniper said, briskly continuing on. "Official business."

Once they had managed to evade the mobs of admirers, the ranger turned on her companion. "What did you have show off for?"

"I wanted to clear the path." He blew a bit of ice vapor off of his crossbow.

She sighed. "Well, good luck with that when we get to the Sanctuary and have to deal with Tauros."

"Whatever, Natalia." He sighed. "It's really peaceful down here, isn't it?"

"If you call being surrounded by Evil Eyes and undead mushrooms peaceful, then yes, I suppose so." she muttered back.

They continued to walk on in silence, until the ranger paused. "Rysdale, I've been thinking…have you told Phoenix?"

"About what?"

"About…how your parents really died?"

He stared on into the darkness before responding, "Yes…I have."

"Did you tell him the _truth?" _she asked, gazing into his eyes with a penetrating air.

"Define 'truth'." he said, turning away from her.

"That you were directly responsible for their deaths?" she said, gently but firmly.

He sighed. "Natalia, it's nothing he needs to know. The last thing I want is for him to think me a heartless murderer…"

"You did try to kill him." she chided.

"I had no choice!" he snapped. "How would you feel if…"

He broke off, remembering whom he was talking to. "Sorry."

"It doesn't matter." she said softly. "We're not kids anymore. And neither is Phoenix. He has a right to know us, now that we're all in the same boat."

"Have you told him about Igzarion?" Rysdale asked her, in the same tone.

"No." She sighed. "But that's different. It's up to Iggy whether he wants to reveal his past to Phoenix."

"Devil Children, indeed." The sniper sighed and restrung his crossbow. "They could have written a book about our lives, given the tragedies we've had to endure…"

"It wouldn't exactly have been a bestseller, I assure you." Natalia said, giving a humorless chuckle. "It's a wonder we all managed to string together…"

"Indeed." he mused. "Five orphans in the town of Henesys; there was no reason for us not to band together. That would have been counter-productive."

"I suppose so." She sighed. "You'll have to tell him the truth someday. We can't just run and hide from our pasts anymore."

"The same to you." he replied placidly.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever…This looks like a good spot to rest for now. Do you have anything to eat?"

He checked his bag. "Nope. Empty."

"What?!" Natalia shrieked. "You mean Gardner sent us out without supplies?!"

"Well, we could've gotten a bite to eat at the Ant Tunnel Park, but you seemed rather impatient to continue on." he shrugged in a down-to-earth way.

"Great." She slumped against the rock. "Now what? It'll be a great lookout if we actually find Gault somewhere here and we're too starved to do anything about it."

"I wouldn't say starved." he said, reaching into his jacket. "We still have two bottles of water."

She shot a glance at him. "Wonderful, Rysdale, but unless you can somehow modify your innards to digest plastic, I'm afraid you're on your own."

He raised his eyebrow in mock concern. "Was that a joke?"

She sighed. "Never mind." She took one of his bottles and took a sip from it. "You're right…It is kinda peaceful down here, now that you mention it."

"Glad to help." He cast a glance around the dismal atmosphere. "You're not going to get any less hungry if you just sit there. Come along."

"Oh, look who's talking now." she growled, shooting a half-playful, half-annoyed look at him.

"Oh? Come on, I'll pull you up." He took ahold of her hand and yanked her abruptly off her seat on the stone, causing her to shriek.

"What was that for?" she muttered, dusting off her clothes.

"Well, I could have applied some ice to any one of your pressure points, but I thought simply pulling you up would suffice to get you moving." he shrugged.

"You're a riot, Rysdale." She quickly got to her feet and scampered forward, slightly flush in the cheeks.

"Indeed." he nodded, following after her.

-----

Following the shopkeeper's directions, I ventured into the Dangerous Valley, looking around for Seles; sure enough, I saw a man with long, auburn hair twirling a Fairfrozen and talking to Ark, Marron, and Ryden nearby.

"Hey, guys." I said, walking over to them; Ark raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Zer. See you're 80 now."

"Same to you." I said, admiring his Helios and his Battle Road armor.

"Ah, Zeraion Phoenix?" Seles asked. His voice was pleasant and friendly. "My name is Keiga Seles; Rathias Gardner sent you, I assume?"

"Yes." I nodded, and he bowed. "So be it. Do you have a sword?"

"Yeah." I took out the small sword that I carried at my belt at all times; he clicked his tongue empathetically.

"Well, if you were a beginner, then that would be fine, but seeing as how you're level 80, I think we'll have to make a few adjustments." Marron and Ryden snickered and I felt my face grow hot.

"Try this." He pulled another sword from his belt; it was gold-colored and had a red hilt. "This blade is called the Traus. It's designed for warriors that are level 40, but since your strength is not as strong, I believe that this will have to suffice for now." I took the sword and hefted it; even though it looked very light, it was surprisingly heavy.

"Now, I think we'll have a few practice duels to get things started. Ryden here is a one-handed sword user, so he'll give you some tips. Wolfen, Marron, you two start dueling, alright?"

"Sure, Master." Both Ark and Marron drew their weapons and charged at each other, sparks flying from their weapons as they collided ferociously.

I then turned to gaze at Ryden; he looked young, about the same age as Ascion. He had an eager face and wore a bandana about his hair. He had a blood-red katana in his hand and made a few practice thrusts in the air before turning to face me.

"So, you're Phoenix, huh?" he said, twirling his sword in his palm.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Personally, I don't know what you're doing up here, but Seles insisted, so…" He shrugged. "Alright, a few basic pointers. First of all, you've got the wrong grip."

"I-what?" I stared at the blade in my hand.

"You need to hold it at a different angle so it doesn't create wind resistance when you swing it. What do you think it is, a mace?"

"Sorry." I said sheepishly, adjusting my grip. Ryden sighed and ruffled his hair.

"Now…you need to remember. Always keep your eye on the enemy. More specifically, keep your eye on the enemy's weapon. You need to be alert and have your guard up at all times. Don't leave yourself open."

"I…see." I murmured, swinging my sword for a bit.

"We'll try a few practice techniques. Just bring your sword up to guard when I attack; simple enough?"

"Sure." I hefted my blade as Ryden raised his own sword. I did as he told and fixed my eyes on his crimson edge as he swung it through the air.

There was a loud crack as my sword met his; I felt the wind being knocked out of me, but Ryden charged again, aiming a slash at my side. Frantically, I brought the blade down to defend, but he casually knocked the sword out of my hand and pointed his katana at my neck.

"Oh, yeah, one more thing…" he said, his gaze focused on me. "Keep a firm grip on your sword at all times."

"I'll remember that." I growled, picking up my sword from the ground.

"Now, once more." he said, charging forward with a stab. I parried the blow with a slash and brought the blade down again to meet his. There was a satisfying crack as his sword collided with mine a few inches from my body. Satisfied, I lunged at him with a stab, but I heard him shout "Power Strike!", wresting the sword from my grip again. It slid across the dusty ground and landed at Seles' feet.

"Heh, don't start on offense just yet, Phoenix." he muttered, pointing his blade at me again. "One step at a time, okay?"

I scowled and went over to retrieve my blade, returning to Ryden. This time, I was fully prepared, determined not to screw up for the third time. I blocked all his blows and saw him falter for a second, probably out of surprise, and I charged, pointing my sword right at his neck.

"Not bad, Phoenix." He smiled. "You definitely have a natural talent for this…"

"Heh, thanks-"

"Shout!" he roared, raising a palm. Something with the force of a raging bull slammed into me and I flew through the air, landing painfully onto the ground, stunned.

"Rule number three…" Ryden said, walking towards me and pinning me to the ground; "Don't get distracted."

-----

The sky was darkening when Rysdale Tales and Natalia Arundale returned to Henesys. Despite their best efforts, a search of the Sanctuary had proven fruitless. Nothing except Tauros and a Jr. Balrog had appeared, and certainly no whereabouts to the location of Gault Isentryx.

"Damn it." was Gardner's response when Tales and Arundale returned and told him of their results. "I'll go to the Sanctuary myself tomorrow." He left the room in a huff. Arundale excused herself, saying she had some business to attend to, leaving Tales, Igzarion, and Arklanser in the room.

"How'd it go?" Igzarion asked Tales.

"I told you already, we didn't find anything." Tales said shortly.

"Not Gault…" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I meant with Natalia."

"You know, I can still hear, Iggy." Arklanser said bluntly.

Tales turned a dark pink. "What do you mean…?"

"She was pink in the face when she came back, and she's not usually like that." Igzarion said in a sly voice. "So tell me, what'd you do-"

He was interrupted by the almost-too-good-to-be-true arrival of a sweaty-faced Zeraion Phoenix; Tales breathed an inward sigh of relief at his narrow escape.

"How'd it go?" Arklanser asked interestedly.

"If you must know, I feel battered." the blonde ranger sighed, raking a hand across his forehead. "I can't believe Seles made me do a hundred push-ups…"

"He's not a Dark Knight for nothing, Phoenix." Igzarion said in a dry tone. "So, besides not being able to break gravity, what else did you do?"

"Aren't you the nosy one today, Iggy." Arklanser said, her arms folded with an impassive expression on her face. It was Igzarion's turn to blush as he muttered, "Shut up."

"Well…I learned a couple of guards, but other than that, nothing much." he sighed.

"Wonderful. At that rate, you'll be able to get near Gault with a sword in a decade." Tales said amicably.

"Shut up, Tales!" Zeraion snarled, his hands balling into fists; the others laughed. "Besides, this whole thing wasn't my idea…it was Gardner and Athena that dragged me into this."

"Indeed." Igzarion said. "Rathias does have a kind of protective spirit over you…he went totally mental when you were kidnapped a few months ago. Kind of like a father-son relationship, I would say."

He ignored this. "What time is it?"

Arklanser glanced at the clock behind her. "A quarter to seven."

"Damn it!" the ranger swore. "Athena said to meet at seven!" With that, he rushed out of the house.

"He's getting a little pushy, isn't he?" Igzarion said, raising an eyebrow.

"Aren't we all." Tales stretched his arms out. "I'll be glad when Gardner finally finds Gault. Night, all." He went upstairs, leaving the two rangers to fend for themselves.

-----

I stepped through the snow briskly, meeting Athena at the snow-covered range. She raised a hand in greeting, then beckoned me closer.

"Now, I wasn't very specific when I mentioned to you the fusion abilities that your bow carries," she said, unsheathing her Shinebow, "so I'll be more precise here. What you want to do is activate one attack, then while it is charging, activate the second. Then, you must release the mental barriers of both techniques at the same time. It requires a great amount of mental capability, so if you can't do it perfectly on your first few tries, I'll understand." She gestured to the snow. "Start out with something simple. Perhaps an Inferno Strafe."

"Yes, Master." I nodded, then took out the Abyssal Arund. I could feel it pulsing in my hands as I wielded it; it was a srange feeling, as though it were…alive somehow. I raised it to my shoulder, and concentrated. "Inferno!"

A ball of flame began to gather at my fingers, as I'd practiced so many times before, and formed itself into a fiery arrow. However, remembering Athena's directions, I focused again and swept my hand down the string. "Strafe!"

What happened next was difficult to describe, but it felt like my mind was being squeezed into a piece of spaghetti as I tried to control both powerful attacks at once. The strain was great…much too great.

Then, suddenly, I felt the strain on my mind abate a little, and I could see the Abyssal Arund glowing as it absorbed the energy from the attacks. I managed to gain enough ground to release the string and roar, "Inferno Strafe!"

Four bolts of flame erupted from my bow and struck the ground; with a series of massive explosions, I saw chunks of ice and ground fly through the air. A cloud of steam hung in the sky as the recoil from my attack swept around me; using Final Attack from a technique like this would be suicide.

"Not bad." Athena said, obviously pleased. "If you had attempted to do that with a normal bow, you would have killed yourself, but the Demonica absorbs some of the recoil of your attacks so that doesn't happen. Obviously, this isn't something you can practice easily; I'd recommend taking a break every so often and keeping a supply of mana replenishers handy. Of course, I still expect you to learn these techniques. Is that clear?"

I groaned, inwardly. No matter how high I ascended, Athena would always be at my heels. "Yes, Master." Slowly, I raised the Arund to my shoulder again.

-----

Gault Isentryx drew a deep breath, inhaling the bitter air of the Sanctuary.

_The time is now._

He cast a glance around the dungeon, causing the monsters to shirk away.

_It must be done._

He stood up and unsheathed his Shinebow, the monsters edging away from him as he walked past them.

_It shall be done!_

He chanted a necromantic spell and melted into the black mist, his destination clear.

_Zeraion Phoenix…you are mine, at last._

_-----_

I raised my bow to my shoulder. "Inferno!" I chanted, the flaming magic suffusing me once again and creating a fiery arrow in my hand. I swept my hand down the bow and chanted, "Strafe!" The arrow split into four as I struggled with the massive force radiating from the bow.

"Inferno Strafe!" I roared, a bolt of pain shooting through me as I released the attack. The fiery blasts resounded through the atmosphere like fireworks, throwing more melted snow and steam into the air.

"That's enough for now." Athena walked over and handed me a bottle of something; I drank it. It tasted putrid, but it soothed the aching in my limbs somewhat. "You've made exceptional progress for your first try using the Demonica."

"Thanks." I murmured, taking another sip of the foul unguent.

"Indeed…you've advanced from the boy six and a half years ago into an outstanding Ranger." I saw her wipe a tear from her eye in the moonlight. "Your path will only become more difficult as time passes, but you will eventually triumph over your foes."

"I hope so." I said, thinking of Gault.

Suddenly, Athena stiffened, not making a move or sound. A moment of worry flashed across my mind. "Master, what-"

"Down!" she suddenly yelled, shoving me to the ground. As I fell, I saw a huge explosion erupt behind me as chunks of dirt and ice rained down.

"What's happening?!" I shouted.

"No! Stay silent!" she commanded, a fierce look in her eyes. She got to her feet, her Shinebow armed and ready. Fear began to creep into my mind; someone had just attacked us, and I had a dark feeling who it could be.

"Strafe!" a voice rang out; four arrows, blacker than the night, shot towards me. Before I could react, I heard Athena shout "Puppet!" A huge guard appeared in front of me, taking the brunt of the attack.

There was a shout of "Inferno!" A bolt of flame roared past, barely missing me by a few feet. In answer, Athena raised her Shinebow and took aim into the darkness. "Dragon Pulse!"

A brilliant bolt of lightning gathered at the fore of Athena's Shinebow and shot into the darkness, illuminating the whole field for a second; in that precious second, I saw the face that I could never forget.

Gault Isentryx.

The light from Athena's attack faded, but I could hear him moving forward; I heard him roar "Dark Reprisal!" There was a flash of darkness, a cry of pain, and I felt a pair of arms seize me from behind.

"Wh-" Gault quickly muffled me with his hand. Athena staggered to her feet, blood oozing from a gash in her chest; she raised her bow, but Gault said in a harsh voice:

"_Stop. Don't come any closer. If you do, I will kill him."_

In the dim moonlight, I could see Athena's face; it was a visage of hatred and sadness, but also…pity?

"Gault…" she murmured softly. "Please…don't…"

He glared at her, raising his Shinebow, but at that moment, an extraordinary thing happened; Gault's face seemed to be screwing up in pain as he aimed at his former teacher; somehow, he couldn't bring himself to shoot her. His face seemed…almost human, in that precious frame of time.

"Do you…realize what you're doing…?" she panted. "You'll destroy…the balance…that holds this world…together…"

"I told you, there never was a balance, and there never will be!" Gault roared furiously, his original anger restored. I struggled against his grip, but for all it mattered, I might as well have been attempting to push a mountain.

Gault raised his palm and snapped his fingers, muttering something I couldn't hear; then there was a rush of wind, a flash of darkness, and my consciousness slipped away.

-----

When I opened my eyes, I expected myself to be inside the Sanctuary, but instead, I found myself in the Dangerous Valley. Surprised, I staggered to my feet, and found I couldn't move. Something, some kind of invisible spell was holding me down.

Then, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I saw the outline of Gault nearby. I struggled, trying to break the arcane fetters that held me, but to no avail. Gault walked over, scrutinizing my face with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Phoenix…I offered you a chance." he said, his voice breaking. "And you denied it."

I could only stare up at his face, illuminated in the dim moonlight, as he glared back at me.

"It pains me to do this…but you will suffer." he said, placing a palm on my shoulder.

"You can't do anything to me!" I roared, trying to lash out at him.

Gault cast a dark glance at me. "You think I can't? Why do you think you can't move in the first place?"

As I continued to struggle and swear at him, he continued slowly. "If you know a person's true name…you can gain complete control of their body and mind…The spell is arcane, but it is true necromancy at its best."

I turned pale. My parents had told me to beware of the necromancers getting ahold of my real name…but then, I didn't even know my own real name, so how could Gault…

"As it so happens…" Gault said, staring back at me with his bloodred eyes, "I know your real name. Your true identity is not Zeraion Phoenix and it never has been. You are mine!"

He gripped my shoulder firmly and began to chant a necromantic spell; slowly, I felt the life force drain out of me. I tried to resist, but he only chanted his spell faster.

_I…can't do anything…It's no good…_

Slowly, I felt myself lose control of my body, my limbs growing limp as the alien force invaded my nerves. I could no longer do anything; I had lost my body.

-----

_Is this what it feels like to be possessed?_

I could still see, hear, touch, use all of my senses, but I was no longer in control of my body; my arms and legs moved on their own, no matter how much I willed them to obey. I could feel Gault's presence in the back of my mind.

"GET OUT OF MY MIND!" I roared, trying to move my arms, but it had no effect. I could hear Gault's cruel voice in my head.

_Phoenix, you never wanted to be my ally, but all that changes tonight. Tonight, whether you like it or not, I will do what I should have done years ago…through your hands._

"No!" I struggled, still trying to gain control of myself. "You…You can't!"

_I can, and I will. The people of Victoria Island are about to suffer tonight, Zeraion Phoenix…and it will be your hand that sheds their blood. _

I felt a shooting pain through my body, as raven-black wings erupted from my back, and I felt my mouth move and my vocal chords vibrate, as I spoke words that were not mine.

"Soon…the downfall of the others shall begin!"

I spread my wings and soared into the night, towards Perion.

-----

Slowly, I soared through the cool air, past the high mountains and the drakes below, until I landed deftly in the middle of Perion square. There were a few shouts and screams of horror as my raven-black wings shone through the night.

I raised my bow, and roared, "Arrow Subjugator!" Hundreds of black slivers rained from the sky, striking the buildings, monuments, bursting into flame wherever they struck. The screams of the townspeople rose into the air. I wanted to block out the sound, but I couldn't move…could only hear their suffering…

_Do you hear them, Zeraion? Hear them suffer…hear them die…They're dying, all because of you. Even as we speak, you are destroying Ellinia and Kerning City as well._

_W…What?_

_Your bow carries many techniques, one of which is the ability to create Shadow Doppelgangers; real-life replicas of the user that can act on their own. Using this power, I made two more replicas of Zeraion Phoenix that are destroying the magicians and thieves as we speak._

_You're lying! It's not true…it's not true…!_

Gault's voice was venomously mocking. _It's not? _Suddenly, images from Ellinia and Kerning City began to flood my mind, pictures of a blonde-haired ranger slinging fireballs into the air, raining destruction on the people below…

I was helpless. Helpless, as Gault moved my body like a puppet on a puppeteer's string. I couldn't do anything…only watch as I destroyed Victoria Island…slaughtering untold numbers of innocents…

"Psi Crush Rain!" I roared, raising the Abyssal Arund and firing a series of dark, flaming arrows into the air; as they landed, they destroyed buildings, statues, people…whatever happened to be nearby. My heart caught as the arrows pierced several terrified townspeople; they all fell to the ground, screaming in pain as their bodies bled over the ground.

_How could I let this happen…?_

I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't do anything…I could only watch in the back of my mind as my body moved on its own, doing acts that shamed me so deeply.

_Gault…! You coward, doing your work through the hands of another…!_

_Don't you dare call me a coward! _And with that, he raised my palm and spoke a necromantic enchantment, annihilating a whole row of nearby houses. The sound of screams rose higher into the air and I felt horribly, truly sick.

_I promised myself I wouldn't let this happen again…but it's happening, just like Ellinia a year and a half ago._

Then I heard the sound that hurt me the most, a sound of utter disbelief, shock, and horror.

"Z…Zer?" Ark was staring wide-eyed at me, his garnet gaze piercing into mine. His Helios was drawn, but he made no move to use it, only staring at me in horror.

_Ark! _I wanted to scream. _Ark! Please…Don't think of me like that! I couldn't stop him…_

He continued to stare painfully at me. "Zer…No…The Ellinian massacre…How could…you…?"

_No…you're not going to hurt my brother! _Fiercely, I struggled with Gault, trying to keep him from controlling me; I would not stand here and let him do this. He faltered for a second as he fought to keep in control; I wanted to shout to Ark to get away, now.

But he couldn't…only stare at me with his pained gaze of disbelief that I could do such a thing.

"Dark Reprisal!" I roared, turning on him and slamming my energy-charged palm into him. The last thing I saw was his eyes, still glazed over with surprise and shock, before he flew into the air and crashed into the burning wreckage of a nearby house.

_No…! Big brother…!_

That was it. Harnessing all the energy I could muster, I furiously ripped into Gault with every fiber of my being. I caught him by surprise, and I almost managed to regain control of my body, but slowly, I could feel my control slipping away.

Then, all of a sudden, inexplicably, I felt him reluctantly release control of my body, and I slumped to the ground, the Abyssal Arund still clutched in my bloodied hands. The destruction, for the most part, was over, but the mass hysteria was still abound. People were still scattering about me, only fearing for their lives.

My heart pounding, I dashed over to Ark and pulled him to safety. There was a blank look on his face as blood slowly trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

"Ark…" I felt tears come to my eyes; is this how Tales had felt when he, too, had to part with an older sibling?

"I'm…sorry…" Out of the corner of my eye, I could now see the blurred figures of two people dashing closer.

Dariel Marron and Ryden. As much as I wanted to stay, I knew that I could not explain what had happened to them. No words could convey the monstrosity of what I had just committed.

Blinking back tears, I let go of my older brother's bloodied hand, and began to run, not caring where the wind took me, but I knew my life could never be the same.

I was a monster, the same monster that had killed Grace one and a half years ago, and I could never live with myself again.

My blood-soaked shoes continued to pound against the hard, stone path out of Perion, as the streets of the once-proud warrior city ran with sanguine rivers.

In the back of my head, I could hear Gault's voice, faintly, through the darkness.

-----

"What…the…_hell?!" _Sitting Bull roared furiously, picking up a stone from the ground and grinding it into dust.

For the past half an hour, the leader of the warriors had said nothing except "What the hell?!", "What the fuck?!", "Damn it!" or any combination of the abovementioned expletives. Both Grendel and Dark Lord had a bloody look on their faces as well.

"Athena, you have some extremely detailed explaining to do." Grendel said, his voice barely suppressing his rage. "Just ten minutes ago, Ellinia was completely razed. Half the city's population was slaughtered and the city was left to burn. Perion and Kerning City suffered the same fate. And all of the survivors identified the perpetrator as one Zeraion Phoenix."

"How were they able to provide a name?!" Athena shot back, tears cascading down her cheeks.

"We have witnesses that personally knew Phoenix." Dark Lord returned. "Dariel Marron and Ryden in Perion. Ascion Blade and Schuyler Kusanagi in Ellinia. Joseph Stalrigarde in Kerning City. Although all of them were very much traumatized by the incident, they all swore that the one responsible was Phoenix. Others identified him as a blonde-haired ranger wielding a spectral-looking Arund."

"Bloody hell…" Sitting Bull paused in his fury of firing off obscenities to eye the sobbing leader of the bowmen for a moment. "You actually gave Phoenix the Abyssal Arund?"

"What?!" Grendel and Dark Lord focused their attention on Athena as well. "You gave him possession of one of the Demonica?"

"I…I judged him…mature enough to use it!" Athena continued to sob. "Phoenix would never d-do anything like that!"

"You decided the same thing for Isentryx nineteen months ago." Grendel said venomously. "And what do you think he did?"

"Phoenix despised Gault!" Athena spluttered. "What do you think would give him reason to follow in his footsteps?"

The rest of the leaders exchanged dubious looks. "Be that as it may," Grendel said, his tone slightly less harsh, "your connection with Phoenix and Isentryx is understandable enough, their being your best students, and perhaps even more. But you cannot defend them any longer. We have sent teams from our rapid-reaction forces to capture Zeraion."

"You should have destroyed the Demonica when you had the chance." Dark Lord said, in a curt tone.

"You destroyed the rest of the Demonica?!" Athena cried almost hysterically. "What on earth did you have to do that for? The Demonica were-"

"-A nuisance and a threat." Dark Lord said in the same placid tone. "They were hurled in the fires of Zakum before they could do any harm. Sadly, it was too late for the fourth, but if all goes well, the Abyssal Arund will exist no longer on this earth by tomorrow."

"You can't do this." Athena snarled, her sorrow quickly turning to rage. "You know very well that the Demonica were linked to the Children. If you destroyed them, then our world is doomed indeed."

"Athena…" Grendel said, almost calmly. "You may think so, but this isn't an age of fairy tales anymore."

Without saying another word, the leader of Henesys cast a fiery glare at her colleagues before striding out of their congregation room. She had to find Zeraion Phoenix as soon as possible; unfortunately, the fate of the world just happened to depend on it.

-----

I continued to run, sweat and blood flowig off of my body. I had to get away from my sins, as far away as I could.

Suddenly, I saw a shadow in the darkness, and I raised my bow, thinking it to be a pursuer, but it wasn't.

It was Athena. There was a look of total despair and sorrow on her face, as though the world had just been destroyed.

"Master!" I gasped. "What-"

"Listen to me, Phoenix." she said, grabbing the neck of my robe and staring pleadingly into my eyes. "I know what you did was totally unforgivable, but I also know it wasn't your fault that it happened."

Before I could thank her, she continued. "But the rest of the world won't believe that. As we speak, the leaders of the other cities have told me that they have sent enforcement teams after you to bring you into custody."

"What?" I gasped. This was really serious. "Master, what should I-"

"Phoenix…" she said, continuing to desperately stare into my eyes. "The rest of the Demonica have just been destroyed, fatally upsetting the balance between the classes. The world…has begun to destroy itself in a war. No matter what, under all circumstances, you _must _keep the Abyssal Arund safe! Do not let anyone destroy it!"

"Y…Yes." I murmured, still unable to comprehend the gravity of what had just occurred.

"Zeraion…you are this world's only hope. The demon of old has returned to this earth and is walking amongst us once more. Defeat the scourge that resides upon this earth, o Lightbringer Dragon, and restore peace to this world."

"What?" I stammered, not understanding what she'd just said, but the next minute, she was gone.

_Lightbringer Dragon…What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

Right now, my only priority was to find shelter and keep the last Demonica safe, under my teacher's words…

But I had no companionship in the world; my friends would truly have deserted me after these treacherous acts. I had no one left to turn to, and that was when I felt truly alone in the world. No one was there to comfort me, save for the throbbing of the bow in my quiver.

_What are you, accursed object, and why do you plague me?!_

Then, suddenly, as though it had read my thoughts, the bow began to glow, growing hot in my hands; I yelped and almost dropped it, but continued to keep it in my grip. Out of nowhere, I could hear a voice…

_Zeraion…Phoenix…_

"No…no way." I said, staring at the weapon in my hand. _This bow did not just talk..._

_Dragon child…listen to me. I am the spirit and the guardian of this weapon…_

"What do you want?!" I shouted at the weapon in my hand, still unable to believe that I was conversing with an inanimate object.

_You will come to discover your destiny soon enough. My name was once that of a mortal's…but that I am no longer. _

"Who…are you?" I murmured into the darkness.

_I now take the name of Athos…If you value your life, as well as the life of this world…you will heed all that I have to say, and banish the demon that I once failed to slay._

I stared at the Arund…Athos for a moment, making sure I wasn't totally delusional.

"Go on."

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, I know this just screams "FILLER CHAPTER", and I know that I really didn't take the time to write this out well, with a few spelling/grammar mistakes and such, but I promise the next one will be better. And longer. Don't expect a quick update because I have midterms coming up next week, though. 

Also, I would like to say something to the authors of this site; If you have an idea for a Maple fanfic, don't go around posting a 1000-word stub with no plot that you're not going to update anyway. We already have too many of those littering the place. Make sure you're fully dedicated and ready to write a story before you start posting first chapters of stories like crazy.

o yea and 1 more thign guys wen u reviwe plz dun writ in cahtspeak cuz its rly annoyin yea lol and tht kinda pisses me off lik fcken hell so i hop u enjoyd teh chpter and reviwe nicly pl0x :D

-Kal


	9. The War Begins

**Chapter 9**

Author's Note: Hey, all. After a long slump (and some screwing around with Maple) I'm back. I bet you're all happy to see me!

(Crickets)

…Ingrates.

Anyways, thanks for all your reviews. And Windra, please don't get me wrong; I did read your comment about Zeraion supposed to call Athena "Mistress" because she's female. However, I used the term "Master" to indicate a sense of total obedience and respect. Not to mention that "Mistress" sounds like something out of a bondage fic. I can understand how you feel (myself being one of those nitpicky people that twitches at each spelling error). You can sue me if you want, but I personally wouldn't bother over something like that. Besides, Zeraion and Athena won't be in contact for the rest of the story, anyway.

In other news, rumors have been circulating that one Joseph Stalrigarde, a hermit, is a homosexual. We have led an investigation team into this incident, and we were able to uncover evidence of three incidents of arm-touching on one Zeraion Phoenix and even one unconfirmed report of a BEAR HUG. Although the hermit in question denies these incidents, we at Kal Ancalas Productions assure you that this matter is being treated with the utmost importance. Effective today, we have imposed a hugging restraining order against said hermit. Thank you for your time and know that we at Kal Ancalas Productions continue to keep your safety and sanity in mind.

Oh, and I finally broke the 100,000 word mark! Yayness!

Edit: After some consideration, some of you might notice a change in this chapter. I wrote three pages or so about alchemic surgery; while I find it comparatively tame as opposed to all the smut and violence you find in movies and TV these days, nevertheless, it has managed to disturb some people. Therefore, I offer a solution; you may skip that section if you wish. If you watch medical dramas like _ER, House, _and et cetera, then this will be tame for you. If not, then when you see the words 'Start Scene', press Ctrl + F and type in 'End Scene'. This is the best solution I can offer, and you won't be missing out on any plot details.

* * *

The structures of the once-proud city of warriors, Perion, now lay in ruins. Ancient stone buildings and primitive tents alike now lay in bloody, burning ruins. Corpses were scattered about the rubble of the structures, either impaled through the body or burnt to death in the resulting inferno. No matter where one looked, destruction reigned.

It was on this scene that Dariel Marron and Ryden ran across, having heard the explosions and carange from their training spot in the Dangerous Valley. Swiftly, the two crusaders ran towards their home, but they were a second too late. Perion had fallen.

"Damn it!" Marron roared, grinding his knuckles and teeth ferociously.

Ryden shook his head. "Come on. Maybe the perpetrator's still around." Both crusaders unsheathed their swords and walked cautiously through the burning city, on their guard.

Then, all of a sudden, Marron's sharp eyes caught something in the flame-illuminated distance; a figure, with dark black wings and a bow in hand, confronting a lone crusader with axe in hand.

_What the…_

"Over there!" Marron shouted, pointing. Ryden's eyes darted to where his teammate was pointing, just a split second too late to hear the words "Dark Reprisal!" and see the crusader fly lifelessly into the air, as the bowman inexplicably sunk to the ground.

"Come on!" Ryden roared, his katana in hand, charging forward with Marron right behind him. The ranger ran to the crusader, apparently checking to see if he was dead, then suddenly turning and fleeing the city, where he disappeared into the hordes of other survivors frightened for their life.

However, both swordsmen managed to catch a glimpse of the bowman's bloodied, tear-streaked face as he ran.

Zeraion Phoenix.

Both crusaders stopped dead in their tracks for a split second, frozen with shock, before Marron raised his blade with an almighty curse and prepared to dash into the crowd. However, Ryden laid a palm on his shoulder. "Don't. It's no use to track him now. All we can do is care for the wounded."

Marron cast another vicious stare into the crowd before reluctantly sheathing his Doombringer. "That son of a bitch! How could he-"

"Not now, Dariel." Ryden said, before running towards the incapacitated axeman nearby. Marron paused slightly before following along.

As soon as both warriors reached the fallen man's side, they let out a groan of shocked despair.

It was Ark Wolfen. His great golden axe lay limply near his side, stained with droplets of blood; there was a blank, shocked stare on his face as he lay in the ground, his armor rent through with a great wound.

Marron swore furiously under his breath, while Ryden looked equally distressed. However, his expression turned to one of awe. "This just doesn't add up, Dariel. Why the hell would Zer kill his older brother?"

"I don't know and I don't care!" Marron roared, stabbing his Doombringer into the ground in anger. "All I know is I want to rip him apart right now…"

"Don't be hasty." Ryden said darkly. "We don't know all the facts; for all we know, Zer may have been a scapegoat."

"We can't just leave him here." Marron sighed. "It wouldn't be right."

"You're right." Ryden agreed. He glanced around at the now-barren city of Perion, its remains still smoldering. "The nearest town is Henesys. We can go back to The Resistance and tell everyone what happened."

"Yeah." Marron sifted through his backpack for a while and pulled out a return scroll to Henesys. "Lucky I always keep a supply. Come on."

"Blade won't be too thrilled about this." Ryden murmured disconsolately before breaking the seal on Marron's scroll. The three crusaders disappeared from the wreckage in a rush of wind.

-----

"No way…" Traphes Igzarion stared at the news scroll crushed in his sweaty hands. "No fucking way…"

"Yes way." Rysdale Tales, stony-faced, said with a nod.

"That… just can't be true." Natalia Arundale said in an awed voice. "Phoenix couldn't…He wouldn't…"

"It's not possible." Delinia Arklanser muttered, running a hand through her flame-colored hair. "No one could blow up all of Victoria in the span of five minutes by himself…"

"My brother wouldn't do something like that!" Ascion Blade roared, pounding the table with his fist.

The rest of the remaining members of The Resistance continued to quarrel. Only the Bowmaster, Rathias Gardner, remained silent. His face seemed- impossibly- even more stone than usual, and he was lost in deep thought. He knew perfectly well that Phoenix wasn't the destroyer of Victoria Island, but at the same time, all the evidence pointed to him. Gault had been given the Abyssal Arund nineteen months ago and destroyed a magician village; Phoenix had been given the Abyssal Arund and had destroyed Perion, Ellinia, and Kerning City.

He knew that this was all part of Gault's cruelly-orchestrated plan; the Bowmaster's intellect had sharpened to the point much beyond a mage's and he could solve nearly any logic problem presented to him in a matter of a minute. Isentryx had waited for the opportune moment to strike, knowing that Phoenix would be given the Demonica, and used the forbidden 'total control' arte; the ability to take over a person's body simply by uttering their true name. All the blame now rested on Phoenix's shoulders.

_I should have thought this out through, damn it. _Gardner cursed, berating himself more than anything. Even though this whole mess was Gault's fault, Rathias Gardner simply couldn't deny the shadow of guilt that hung over his head; he was the one that had talked Athena into granting the Demonica to Phoenix, insisting that it would help his power to defeat Gault.

But Gault was no longer the one to be defeated; he'd already done what he'd intended to do. The warriors, magicians, and thieves had more or less been decimated, and The Resistance as well in a single stroke. As soon as the news of destruction had reached The Resistance's ears, every single warrior, magician, and thief had stonily resigned in a huff. Even most of the bowmen had left. Only the Devil Children and Phoenix's friends remained, and Gardner knew perfectly well that twelve people, no matter how well-equipped and trained, could not stand a chance against a direct attack from Isentryx and his enchanted monsters.

There only remained one thing left to do; something he should have done a long time ago, but never really had the heart to do. In a way, it was his fault even more; he'd blindly supported Gault even when the others had began to distrust him, only believing that he would do good.

_A fool's mistakes are numerous and inconsequential; but a wise man's mistakes are correspondingly larger._

_Much larger._

He swore again, cursing himself for allowing Phoenix to have gotten into this situation and for allowing Gault to seize the upper hand in this battle.

He drew his Shinebow, twinkling lightly in the dim light, and opened the great doors of the mansion, the light breeze blowing in his face.

He was going to the Sanctuary.

-----

Zeraion Phoenix sat in a small cave in the mountains of Perion. Using brushwood and a flick of his fingers, he'd managed to light a small fire to keep him company. The Abyssal Arund still glinted in his lap.

"Go on." he murmured, stroking the bow. "I'm listening. What do you have to say?"

Softly, he heard the weapon thrum in his hand as he felt a consciousness touch his mind; it was as if the bow had a mind of its own. Slowly, it spoke to him in a voice only he could hear.

_Before this world was founded, it was a wild planet; monsters roamed the unfertile lands freely. We know not where we came from; we, the humans. Some say that we were an extra-terrestrial race that came from another planet; others say we evolved from a tame species of monster and acquired a superior intelligence. In any case, it was not long before we learned how to survive; by killing. Only by killing could we assert our dominance and defend ourselves from the horrors of this land. Thus, that is how our first classes were born._

_Interestingly enough, we humans were not the first intelligent race to enter this land; the elves, who came here long before us, had dwelled within the forests of Bera for many a millenia before we crossed paths. It was the elves who gave us the arts of magic and archery; we ourselves developed the classes of warrior and rogue. Thus, the birth of our four base classes; warrior, magician, archer, and thief._

_The elves and the humans met when a group of scouts unwittingly stumbled onto the great forest now known as Sleepywood. Although the elves treated us as inferior- and still do- they grudgingly allowed us to take advantage of their hospitality. Without them, the human race would not have survived long. It was they that granted us their knowledge, their studies, and that allowed us to set us apart even further from the monsters._

_They had but one request; that we aid them in the slaying of a terrible monster, known as the Balrog. The ancient Sanctuary that lies in the bowels of Victoria was once a city, an elven city full of treasure and knowledge. However, the Balrogs decended upon this city and decimated it; the elves fled to the surface and never dared to venture into the ruins again. They themselves could not defeat this menace, but with our aid, they stood a chance._

_Allied with the elves, we humans banded together and slew the Balrogs in an epic battle. Many lives were lost and many elven cities were burned in the resulting battle. Even more so, the final skirmish between the Final Four and the Crimson Balrog resulted in the splitting of the continent Elaesia; only fragments broke off to form Maple and Victoria Island, while the majority of Elaesia drifted away to become Ossyria._

"Wait." The ranger paused for a bit, stretching his hands over the fire to warm them. "Who exactly were the Final Four?"

_The leaders of the resistance against the Balrogs; two elves, each masters of magic and the bow, and two humans, masters of the blade and shuriken-do. _

"But…" Phoenix paused again. "Crimson Balrogs aren't really that difficult to kill; I should know because I've fought them before and slaughtered them with Final Attack. Why, then, did it take four masters just to bring one to its heels?"

_Ah. _Phoenix could detect a bit of venom in Athos' voice. _If not for the cursed necromancers, the battle would have ended much sooner._

"Necromancers?"

_Yes, the necromancers. Originally, the realms of magic were classified by eight elements through the elves: fire, ice, wind, water, lightning, earth, light, and darkness. We now know only five elements: fire, ice, lightning, poison, and holy. Poison arts evolved from earth magic, and holy arts evolved from light magic. The wind element was eventually encompassed by fire, as was water by ice. That is how our elements of magic came to be._

"You still haven't answered my question. What happened to those who used dark magic?"

There was a touch of dry amusement in Athos' tone. _You have as many questions as feathers on a bird, dragon child._

"I want to know."

_Very well. The elves had experimented with dark magic, as they had with the other seven elements; but they abandoned dark magic when its users began to suffer death and insanity from the experiments. The magic was locked away and not discovered until the elves met the humans._

If bows could sigh, Athos came close. _Ironically,_ _it was those humans that ultimately ruined us; while most humans preferred to study the other elements, a few became curious. They realized that the Balrog's powers were tied to dark magic. Instead of opposing the Balrog, they secretly studied it, learning its magics and intricacies. Their aim, instead of destroying the Balrog, was to subjugate it and use it to destroy the rest of the humans and elves. It was a sin that has not been forgived since._

_Those who studied the dark arts became appropriately known as a necromancer. The elves and humans immediately launched a crusade against all necromancers, burning any they found at the stake, but that wasn't enough to stop them. They hid in secret and continued to collaborate, planning to control the Balrogs._

_It was just after the Final Four dealt the last blow that the necromancers struck. Rising from the depths of the earth, they took the humans and elves by surprise and revolted, killing many. The necromancers then attempted to revive the slain Balrog by chanting a spell thankfully lost to time._

There was a tense silence. "Did it…work?" Phoenix managed to ask.

_No. Instead of reanimating the Balrog, as the necromancers had hoped, the demonic spirit tied to the Balrogs were what were summoned. The demonic spirit turned on its masters and slew the necromancers, and then it proceeded to destroy the humans and elves as well._

_The humans and elves were desperate; the Final Four had been severely weakened by the battle with the Balrog and the fight with the spirit was more than they could handle. In desperation, they turned to the documents left by the necromancers and used their final technique, soul transmutation._

"Oh."

_Yes. The transmutation was able to severely weaken the demon, but not banish it completely. As the Final Four lay in their final moments of life, they left instructions to their followers never to attempt necromancy again, and sealed the demon within the ruins of the Sanctuary._

_The descendants of the Final Four are the leaders of the cities Perion, Henesys, Ellinia, and Kerning City. Both Sitting Bull and Dark Lord are humans, with a fairly short life span. Grendel's ancestor was elven, but the blood of the magician elf of the Final Four was crossed over with humans' countless times. Only Aethenea Pieralasca is a pure elf. She is the great-granddaughter of the original bowmistress of the Final Four._

"Aethenea who?"

_Athena Pierce._

"Oh…right."

_It is getting late, dragon child. I don't wish to bore you, and you must get your rest. _

"You're right." The ranger blew out the flames, which had dwindled to smoldering ashes, and curled up against the hard stone of the cavern.

"Athos…What if someone comes while I'm sleeping?"

_I will wake you._

"Thanks. Good night." Phoenix settled onto the stone and closed his eyes, but he opened them again.

"Athos?"

_Yes?_

"I've been wondering. Are you a descendant of the Final Four?"

_No._

"Then how do you know so much about them?"

_That is a question for another time._

"And why do you keep calling me 'Dragon Child'?"

_It is your proper title._

"I don't unders-"

_You will in due time. Now get your rest._

"Alright. Good night." Sighing, Phoenix curled up and cradled the bow in his arms, using his tattered cape as a makeshift blanket, and was soon asleep.

-----

The headquarters of The Resistance had been erupting with noise and arguments a second before, but as soon as Rathias Gardner had stonily left the house with Shinebow in hand, the bickering had fallen off to a few murmurs. If the bowmaster had decided to take matters into his own hands, something was indeed wrong.

"None of us know what to believe anymore." Tales said, darkly scraping the table with his knuckles. "All the evidence points at Phoenix, but at the same time, somehow, we know he didn't do it."

"Not of his own free will, anyway." the hermit, Joe, added.

There was a dark silence that hung in the air afterwards, a silence interrupted by a sudden, frantic banging on the door. Everyone swore and scrabbled for their weapons before Schuyler found the sense to simply open the door.

"What the _hell?!" _the mage suddenly shrieked as the door was opened. Alert, everyone turned to the door to see two of the crusaders, Dariel Marron and Ryden, stomp through the door with a bloodied mess of armor between them.

Or so they thought; as the crusaders gently deposited the crimson-stained armor on the floor, everyone could see it had a disheveled raven-black mop of hair and a golden axe strapped to its back.

"Oh my…" Iris clapped a hand to her mouth.

Cautiously, Schuyler, Iris, and Joe tried to shuffle themselves in front of Ascion's line of sight, but it unfortunately wasn't enough. He elbowed them aside to look at the bloodied-up victim.

"What the-" Ascion's face quickly went from pale to a ghostly white as he eyed the lifeless warrior on the ground.

There was a deathly silence in the great hall.

"No…please, no…!" Ascion sobbed into his hands, his broken voice amplified hundredfold in the still atmosphere.

Then he broke down, his knees sinking to the ground as he burst into tears, hot droplets running from his hands and falling onto the floor below.

Silently, out of pity, Iris gently knelt down and rested her hand on the side of the fallen crusader's neck, gently uttering a prayer.

To her surprise, she felt a faint throbbing pulse.

_What the…It can't be…_

She ran her practiced hand gently along Ark's neck, makng sure she wasn't hallucinating.

The pulse was still there.

"He's alive!" she murmured in a single breath.

"What?" Schuyler gaped. "That's-"

"Let me see that." Igzarion said, stepping through the crowd. He gently ran his hands along the crusader's body, then nodded. "I see."

"What are you talking about, Iggy?" Arundale asked, wide-eyed.

"It seems he was struck down by a necromantic arte." Igzarion murmured. "Dark Reprisal; an extremely dangerous spell, both to use and to receive. He was very lucky. The attack appears to have just missed his major arteries."

"So he can still be saved?" Schuyler asked in trepidation.

Igzarion's eyelids flickered. "Highly unlikely; there was still a large amount of damage done to his internal structure by the spell; that, and we can only guess how long he's been bleeding. Even if he does manage to pull through, it'll be-"

He broke off the end of the sentence; there was a dismal pause. Sudeenly, however, Ascion stood up, sniffling, and brushed a few tears off of his cheeks. "I don't care." he snarled. "I'll do whatever it takes to save him, no matter if I have to invent a new healing arte right here and now."

Igzarion raised an eyebrow. "There's still remnants of the necromancy embedded in the wound. You won't be able to heal the wound without dispelling the magic."

Ascion's determined expression did not waver. He turned to Iris and said, "Get Master Grendel's encyclopedia down here now."

"Are you kidding? I don't have a return scroll to Ellinia, and even with teleportation he could be-"

"It's in my room." the priest said shortly. Iris raised an eyebrow and muttered, "Geek," but did as she was told and returned swiftly with the tome.

Swiftly, Ascion's nimble fingers riffled through the pages; as he read, his face seemed to grow more and more despairing. Finally, he slammed the book down. "Damn it." he snarled. "I don't think I'll be able to dispel the arte and heal his wounds at the same time. According to the book, the mental strain would be too great."

"I'll help you." Iris offered.

"No. You don't know anything about healing or holy magic and you won't be able to sustain the arte for more than a few seconds." he said plainly. Iris blinked.

"We could send for a support healer from Ellinia." Schuyler suggested.

"It would take too long." Igzarion shook his head.

"I could heal him, if you wish." Joe's voice rang out through the hall.

Ascion turned his face to look at the hermit. "You-you can really use healing artes?"

"Sure." The hermit shrugged. "It's just a little alchemy trick. I used it on Zer before."

Ascion cast a desparing glance around the room.

"It's his only hope." Igzarion said darkly. "You don't have any other choice."

The priest glanced about the room one more time before returning his gaze to the hermit. "What are you waiting for?" He motioned.

"You'll have to do an open operation to repair those wounds." Igzarion said matter-of-factly. "Delinia and I can air out a room upstairs. Bring him up." Both rangers set off up the stairs.

Slowly, Marron and Ryden hoisted Ark on their shoulders and followed after the rangers.

"Since when does Igzarion know so much about necromancy and medicine?" Schuyler asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neither Tales nor Arundale answered the question.

-----

The cold, bitter air knifed Rathias Gardner's face as he struggled against the icy atmosphere of the Victorian Sanctuary.

_The weather's a bit rough, even for the Sanctuary. There must be a higher concentration of mana somewhere._

He scowled, knowing the answer before he could finish his first thought. _Of course. Gault. _Snarling, he flicked his wrist, summoning a bright flash of golden flame. The flame flickered in the harsh, cold, wind, but did not extinguish. Satisfied, he continued on.

Soon, he found himself leave the ice-blue stones of the Dungeon and enter the silver stone floors of the Sanctuary, the ancient elf city destroyed millenia ago during the war with the Balrogs.

_The sentience is becoming stronger. I can feel it. _Several of the Taurospear turned to see the intruder and charged, their eyes glittering with darkness as they hefted their massive weapons.

He did not falter, only raised his Shinebow and closed his eyes. "Dragon Pulse!"

Sparks of electricity began to crackle around the bowmaster as he readied his attack, and when the group of Tauros were only a few yards away, the mouth of the Shinebow spat out a brilliant burst of lightning, shaped like the head of a dragon.

There was an almighty flash and a crack as the attack struck its mark, and when the smoke cleared, the ground was littered with incinerated corpses. Shaking his head, his long amber ponytail drifting in the wind, Gardner continued onwards.

The ancient seal lay in front of him. It had apparently been destroyed in the past, but it was now rebuilt, even stronger than before. He could almost smell the dark magic in the air; he knew he was close.

As he expected, the door would not open, regardless of whatever technique he flung at it. He suspected that it had been strengthened by Gault. Regardless, he knew Isentryx much too well to be stymied by this obstacle.

He ran his fingers across the stone, whispering an incantation, and slowly, the magitech gears in the door cranked open, revealing the innermost room of the dungeon; the great heart of the Sanctuary itself, the cursed abode of the Balrogs.

The sight that met his eyes was almost indescribable; it was as if the Sanctuary had been hollowed out until it was almost as large as the world that lay above it. A great dome had been hollowed out at least a mile high, as Crimson Balrogs soared around, growling in their harsh guttural tongue. Dark-caped Tauros dashed around, dueling each other with their spears.

As soon as the amber-haired bowmaster's presence was recognized, all the monsters suddenly diverted themselves from their tasks and lunged at the invader, but a voice rang out through the massive cavern.

"_Leave him be."_

The monsters heard his command and fearfully shirked away from the bowmaster, leaving a clear path between Rathias Gardner and Gault Isentryx.

"So, you've come." Gault said. His voice had abandoned its demonic tone somewhat and was almost human, although it still had a vicious, raspy edge. "It saved me the trouble of having to send a team of Omega Balrogs after you."

"Excuse me?"

"Special Crimson Balrogs. I took the time to modify their cellular structure and genes with a little arte I picked up a while back." He smiled darkly. "Not bad, don't you think?"

Gardner merely scowled. "I hope their intelligence reflects their countenance."

"Ah." Gault stood up and walked a few feet closer towards the bowmaster, although they still stood several yards away from each other. "You're still bitter about that little mix-up that happened with Phoenix seven months ago?"

"You had no right to drag Phoenix into all of this." Gardner snarled, his grip on his weapon tightening. "It's going to be the last mistake I let you commit."

Gault merely shrugged. "You really can't blame the Balrogs for mistaking Phoenix for you." He gave Gardner a knowing look. "The resemblance is indeed similar."

"That's aside the point, Gault." Gardner glared at Gault with his ice-blue cobalt eyes. "Through this whole thing, I blindly supported you. Somehow, I naively thought you were going to do good. That you would make good on your promise to restore the bowmen to their former glory."

He shifted his gaze to his bow. "It seems that I was mistaken."

"Why, Rathias, when exactly did I break my promise?" Gault cast his eyes around the cavern. "The warriors, magicians, and thieves are now in ruins. Is that going to hinder the archers' position in the world?"

"Gault, get it through your head!" Gardner roared furiously. "If a building is supported by four pillars and one is weakening, then you must strengthen that pillar, not weaken the others!" His gaze was sharper than ever as he focused his eyes on the dark bowman. "That is the concept you never understood!"

"But if the pillar can be restored…" Gault said, his eyes beginning to glint with a faint remnant of madness, "…why not redesign the building…so that it is supported by only that pillar? What if the other pillars are merely useless…?"

"This very world was founded on the concept of the four classes!" Gardner retorted. "Do you mean to say you've taken it upon yourself to redesign the very structure that humankind rests on?"

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing, Rathias." Gault said placidly. "Change is for the better."

"Change can be for better…" Gardner growled. "Or worse."

"Believe me, once I am through with this world, it will be much different." He returned Gardner's furious, icy gaze with a calm, dark stare of his own. "History has been stained with blood ever since the formation of the four classes. But now, there will be no more conflict because there will be no opposing parties. Everyone will be at peace; everyone will be able to share in the power of the bowmen."

"Do you think that those who oppose you will go peacefully?" Gardner retorted.

"There will have to be sacrifices." He strung his Shinebow, the resulting note resounding throughout the cavern. "But in the end, it will all be for the better. Why exactly you chose to resist this, I do not know. You were my firmest supporter through all these years, and suddenly you become one of my greatest enemies."

"I was blinded by your schemes." the elder bowman responded. "Somehow, I remained blinded to your foolish evil, even after Phoenix gained his suspicions. By the time I caught wind of your true intentions, it was too late."

"Ah, Zeraion Phoenix…" For the third time, Gault cast his eyes around the massive cavern. "It was Phoenix that first sowed the seeds of discord within us. He was just like you, refusing to believe that the bowmen deserved control of the world. Unlike you, though, he was weak. For this, he shall now bear the weight of my sacrifice."

"Enough." Gardner strung his bow in one fluid motion. "Zeraion Phoenix should never have been in contact with you in the first place."

"But…it was inevitable, wasn't it…that we should eventually have crossed paths?" Gault said, staring at his former mentor with a wisty eye. "You, of all people, should know that…"

"I won't have any more of your twisted ideals staining the world with blood." Gardner said, raising his Shinebow. "This ends now."

Gault's eerie smile did not falter. "Indeed, Rathias."

There was a tense moment of silence, and then both bowmen let out a bloody roar and charged at each other, Shinebows raised.

-----

_Wake up, Zeraion. The world awaits._

Slowly, the ranger stiffened up, swearing slightly as he stretched himself out. The numerous minor injuries that he'd accumulated from last night had spread through his body overnight to become one huge ache. He looked a total mess, his blonde hair matted with clumps of dirt and blood and various scars crisscrossing his armor and skin.

"Ow…Good morning to you too, Athos." Phoenix sighed, cracking his knuckles.

_Indeed. _The bow seemed to twinkle in the sunlight. _Have you given any thought to breakfast? You need to keep your strength up._

"Not at the moment…" He cast a glance over the dry plains. "There doesn't seem to be any wild fruits or grains that we can pick."

_What about the animals? Do they not provide a source of nourishment for the humans in this area?_

Zeraion's stomach turned over; he had never really gotten accustomed to eating flesh since a few years ago. _It's not right to take a life and cause unnecessary suffering just for a bite to eat._

_Would you value the life of a boar over your own, dragon child?_

Zeraion scowled. "I hate it when you call me that." Nevertheless, he strung the Abyssal Arund and within a few minutes, had a wild boar roasting over a fire. He ate the meat and found that it gave him strength, but he took little notice of the taste.

"So…" Once more, he thoughtfully cast a glance at the deserted plains. "What do you suggest we do on this fine day?"

_For starters, I believe you should get moving. You are being pursued, after all, and it will not hinder your pursuers much if you remain stationary._

Phoenix made a face. "Good point." He unstrung the Abyssal Arund and slid it back into his quiver. "That aside, I think I get the point with the Final Four and the Balrogs, but what exactly does that have to do with what we're up against now?"

_The demon released by the necromancers was, in effect, the spirit of the first Crimson Balrog. Demons have two forms; their spiritual form and their physical manifestation. A demon is much more destructive in its spiritual form, as its mana runs rampant and it cannot be killed through normal means. The only way to stop a demon while in spirit form is to seal it._

"And?"

_However, demons cannot remain in their spiritual form for long. They must find a host; a vessel to possess. Otherwise, they will simply dissipate. That is essentially what a spirit is; a sentient conscience created of pure mana and energy. I am one such spirit; it is this bow that essentially holds me together. Consequently, you are also my vessel._

"Wait a second." The ranger paused. "You mean to say that I'm being possessed by you?"

_Not exactly. However, do you recall when Aethenea first presented you with the Abyssal Arund?_

"Yeah." Zeraion sighed. "When I touched it, it felt…weird. It was like dueling with some kind of magical force…a tug-of-war."

_That curious sensation was merely me testing you to see if you were worthy of wielding the Abyssal Arund; the glyphs engraved on it are not for show. However, it is noted that a organic vessel is much better suited to a spirit than an inanimate object; hence, I am now a part of you as much as any of your organs. If this bow is destroyed, then you will die. This, I believe, is the main reason Aethenea entrusted you to keep it safe._

"That's reassuring to know." Zeraion brushed a clump of hair out of his face.

_Do not think this arrangement is all bad. In times of battle, I can lend my abilities and mana to you. And being a spirit, we can rest assured that you would have to be extremely hard-pressed to run short of mana._

"True." Zeraion stared into the sky for a moment. "That, and I can do the…fusion thing that Athena talked about with you."

_Indeed, the ability to fuse attack artes. Inferno Strafe, Arrow Vanquisher, and Omega Crush Rain. Technique fusion was a skill that the Final Four utilized as well. Even when I myself had a physical form, I used it often._

Zeraion remained silent for a bit as he walked on. Finally, he asked, "So…getting back to the original point here, you talked about the spiritual form of the Crimson Balrog. What exactly was it called?"

There was a dark silence from Athos before Zeraion heard a response. _Razier. The demon's name is Razier._

"The name definitely fits." Zeraion muttered.

_Indeed. Razier was the demon that the Final Four gave their lives to thwart, the demon that my companions and I destroyed ourselves for, and the terror that you must soon face._

"Your…companions?"

_They no longer exist. _There was a touch of bitter hatred in Athos' voice. _When we used soul transmutation, we were careful to seal a fragment of our souls into our weapons, so that we could not truly depart this earth unless our weapons were destroyed as well. The current leaders of Victoria, being the simple-minded fools that they were, flung the Umbral Helios, the Hellish Ritual, and the Grim Mamba into the flames of Zakum. Only Aethenea alone retained the wisdom to salvage the Abyssal Arund, the last hope of banishing Razier from this earth._

"I…see." Keen to steer the conversation away from the sensitive topic, Zeraion hastily added, "What about the physical manifestation of Razier?"

_Ah. Demons have no one manifestation; it all depends on who happens to be close at the wrong time. A demon will usually prefer to choose individuals of power to manifest themselves unto, but they are usually not picky. However, if a demon chooses to posess a person, then that person is granted the demon's abilities…if they can control it. If not, then the person is merely a puppet upon the demon's string._

Puppet upon a string.

"So…you're saying…that the one who possessed me last night was Razier? But that would mean Gault would also have to be…"

_I seriously doubt that Razier had dealings with humans; like most demons, Razier prefers the high-mana demonic beasts that roam the Sanctuary, such as the Balrog. Humans are not exceptional sources of mana; unless the person in question is a mage, it will be very difficult for a demon to survive long even under the person's influence. _

"Gault's acting of his own accord, then?"

_Most likely. It may seem, however, that he, too, is interested in the power of the great demon, and wishes to control it._

"Wonderful…"

_At the moment, we have two threats on our plate; the great demon Razier and the sadly misguided Isentryx._

"Wait, you know Gault?"

Athos twinkled in the sunlight. _Did you forget that he was the Abyssal Arund's keeper nineteen months ago?_

"Oh, right."

-----

(Start Scene)

Painstakingly, Ascion and Joe both went up the stairs and entered the bedroom that had been turned into a makeshift hospital cell. Ark was lying on the bed, bare-chested, while Igzarion and Arklanser somberly stood off to the side.

"Why the hell is it so hot in here?" Joe snarled, pulling his cap off of his head and stuffing it into his pocket.

"Fumigation." Igzarion stated emotionlessly. "Heat is the only way we're going to be able to kill the microorganisms in the air; the last thing we want is an infection from the open surgery."

"Good point." Joe rolled up his sleeves. "Is this your first time performing surgery?"

Ascion swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I studied anatomy and medicine extensively as part of my priest's training, but I haven't taken the practical examination yet."

"A first for both of us, then." Joe pulled a Steely from his belt and ventured to the refrigerator, filling a nearby cup with ice. "Do you mind?" he asked, turning to Igzarion.

Without a word, the ranger lit the hot steel on fire; Joe watched the metal glow cherry-red before plunging it into the cup of ice. There was a loud hiss and a plume of steam.

"Disinfection." he said, catching the look on Ascion's face. "Anyway, you get the easy part, which is dispelling the dark magic. I'm the one who actually has to repair the damage…"

"True." Ascion sat on one side of the bed and set his encyclopedia on the dresser; Joe went to the other side of the bed and propped his alchemy text against the lamp.

"Has he been anethesized?" Joe turned to Igzarion again.

"There was some alcohol in the fridge." Igzarion shrugged. "Delinia and I managed to distill it some, but even so, I can't guarantee that it will be effective."

"You ready?" he asked Ascion.

Ascion's hands were trembling. "Y…yeah, I am." He swallowed, his expression growing firmer. "We're going to do our best to save him…"

"We _will _save him." Joe said firmly. "Come on. He can't wait all night."

Shuddering slightly, Ascion's eyes scanned the page before continuing on. Slowly, he set his palms on the bloody wound and began to chant.

_I summon the power of the heavens to purge thee of darkness…Begone! Dispel!_

Bright light flashed from his palms, bathing the three in a golden light; despite the heat, Joe pulled the cap over his eyes again for protection against the intense glare.

"How long can you hold that?" he called.

"For as long as I need to." Ascion responded with a nod.

"Then so be it." Slowly, Joe ran his fingers gingerly against the warrior's muscled chest, then readied himself, the shining Steely in hand. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

With precision, he carved an alchemic symbol with the very tip of the knife into the skin, being extremely careful to draw as little blood as possible. When the alchemic glyph was complete, he quickly shot a glance at his handbook before turning back.

_It's all or nothing from here on out._

He set his palms directly onto the rune and commanded, "Alchemist!"

Slowly, blue light began to flow from his fingers into the wound, the cuts in the skin themselves beginning to glow a bright turquoise. He shifted his fingers and commanded, "Alchemic Sight!"

His pupils glowed blue for a second; then the power of his spell diffused into his eyes. It was like seeing the world through an X-ray; his spell detected the exact materials and elements that everything was composed of.

_Water, carbon, sodium, ammonia, adenosine, fluoride, silicon, calcium…_

Slowly, he focused his gaze to the patient. Underneath the skin, he could see his charge's internal organs, pulsing weakly as they attempted to function. He could see that the flesh of the internal muscles had been horribly torn, and a few rib bones had been completely broken. However, the heart and major arteries-somehow- remained fairly unscathed.

_This is our only chance. First, I have to repair the damaged muscle. _He moved two fingers and felt the skin pulse underneath as the muscle cells melded themselves back together. _Even so, it won't hold by itself. I have to seal it with something…Like glue. Like…_

His mind flashed back to when he'd healed the scars on Zeraion Phoenix's arms. Slowly, he considered the situation for a second before making up his mind. _Who says that body fat can't work? _He shifted another finger and felt the lipids relocate themselves, attaching themselves to the torn muscle. With another short incantation, he fused the muscle together.

_Now, for the bones…_Gingerly, he shifted his fingers slowly across the chest, carefully reattaching the bones so as not to cut any arteries. _Now I have to search out all the bone fragments and fuse them back; otherwise, they'll just float around and cut him up from the inside out._

His alchemic sight immediately located specks of calcium, collagen, and various other elements floating around. _Come on. _With the utmost care, he guided them through the twisting maze of blood vessels, fusing them back to the bone.

_Only Balrog knows how many bone fragments there are…_He sighed deeply. _This is going to be a long night._

He heard Ascion call, "How much longer?"

"It's going to be a while." Joe called back. "I have to find all the stray pieces of bone and reassemble them."

He heard Ascion groan, but he only concentrated harder, his eyes and fingers deftly coordinating each others' movements as he reassembled the shattered bone. Finally, sweat dripping down his neck, he was done, for the most part.

_But I still have to fuse them so they won't crack in transit. And this time, I can't use body fat…healing muscle is much different from healing bone. _He shot a glance at his alchemy text, but got nothing other than a cloud of obscure terminology.

_Wait. What about cartilage…? That could work, wouldn't it?_

Slowly, his features relaxed. _Yes…it would. But in order to fuse these kinds of cracks, I'm going to need a hell of a lot of cartilage…Not to mention that I don't know what kind to use…"_

"Ascion!" Joe called. "You've studied anatomy, right?"

"Yes…"

"If I wanted to fuse rib bones together, what kind of cartilage would you suggest using as a sealant?"

There was a moment's silence; finally, Joe heard, "I would go with hyaline. It's the most versatile."

_So be it. Anyway, that stuff's fairly abundant. _He traced his hand along the warrior's limbs. _I'm going to have to be careful and only take a little bit from each bone. Otherwise…_ He shook his head, then continued with the arduous process of cautiously removing the material and guiding it back to the assembled bones.

Time slowly flowed past as Joe continued to piece together the puzzle of assembled bones; finally, Ascion could stand it no longer and almost screamed, "Joe! You done yet?"

There was a pause before he heard the hermit call, "Almost. I finished fixing up the ribcage structure, but there's still a lot of stray blood floating around in his body. Somehow, I have to get it back into the blood vessels."

_This is going to be hard. Even though there weren't any major arteries or veins cut, there's still a lot of broken capillaries. To get that blood back where it belongs, I have to stop the blood flow and force it back into the vessels…_

_But if I do that, he won't be able to circulate oxygen through to his brain…_

"How long can a brain survive without oxygen?" he asked, dreading the answer.

There was a long pause before the answer came. "If you want to avoid any serious neural damage…about one minute."

_Shoot. _Joe scowled, resting his sweaty palms on the pale, cold skin. _This is going to be risky. _He knew that trying to force blood through the tiny capillaries, less than a hair thick, would take eons. But if he risked severing a larger vessel, Ark would most certainly die of blood loss.

_It's just a risk…I'm going to have to take. _Joe sighed; what he wouldn't have given to have a team of expertly-trained surgeons from Niora Hospital in his place. But Kerning City had been leveled only a few hours ago, and that simply wasn't an option.

Slowly, he took a deep breath, then pressed his fingers firmly into the skin. Slowly, it began to turn even paler, until it was almost snow-white. Slowly, he let out his breath.

The countdown began now. With a shivering finger, he selected a fairly large artery, and swiftly drew his finger across it. The blood vessel split, but the blood did not flow; it remained where it was, frozen in place.

_Fifty seconds left. _Almost as pale as the man below him, Joe gripped ahold of the crusader's almost-lifeless skin, and let his magic flow. The pool of blood slowly shrank as it siphoned itself back into the vessel.

After about half a minute, he resealed the artery and resumed the flow of blood. He was thrilled to find that the artery held, but there was still a fairly large amount of blood left. Nevertheless, he let out his pent-up breath in one blow, relieved that the worst was over.

_I only need to do this two or three more times; then all the blood will have drained. After that, I can just fuse back the capillaries, seal up the skin here, and he's just about as good as new._

"Alright." Joe nodded. "I only need five more minutes, and he'll be perfectly healed."

Ascion sighed in relief.

-----

(End Scene)

_This is it. _Rathias Gardner's heart pounded as he charged towards his former student.

"PYRE KNOCK-BACK!" Both bowmen raised their Shinebows, alight with leaping flames, and collided with each other. There was a massive explosion as both men skidded along the hall opposite from each other, shaken but unhurt.

"Demon Strafe!" Gault roared, sending four arrows, blacker than the night, hurtling towards his opponent. With unnatural speed, Gardner weaved neatly through them and flicked his wrist, roaring, "Inferno!"

The ground underneath Gault's feet exploded with the force of a land mine; he managed to summon a doppelganger just in time. "Not bad, Rathias." He then raised his bow again. "Demon Strafe!"

"Power Knock-Back!" Gardner roared, swinging his Shinebow in a wide arc; he slashed the arrows in midair as they soared towards him. They exploded a few feet from his face, leaving him fazed but unhurt. He waved the acrid smoke away in time to see another bolt of dark flame hurtling directly at him.

"Puppet!" he commanded, diving out of the way and rolling across the floor only to be almost struck by another vicious blast of magic. Swiftly, he raised his bow. "Arrow Vanquisher!"

Brilliant cobalt-blue flashes of lightning burst forth from the sky and rained down upon Gault; he swiftly managed to dodge them all but not without getting a scorch mark on his elbow. Scowling, he raised his Shinebow. "Psi Crush Rain!"

Dark flashes of energy rained forth; Gardner summoned another puppet to take the blast and dashed forward at Gault, his eyes blazing. He raised a hand and roared, "Inferno!" just as Gault shouted, "Dark Reprisal!"

The two spells impacted against each other forcefully, sending both bowmen sprawling. Snarling, Gault murmured something under his breath; there was a flash of darkness and the next second, a huge, glittering sword of darkness was in his hands. He lunged at Gardner, slashing apart the hem of his robe.

_Shoot. _Thinking quickly, Gardner ran his hand along his Shinebow and whispered an incantation. _O mighty dragons that dwell in the skies…grant my thy power! _A bolt of lightning flowed from his bow into his hands, forming itself into a great spear. With surprising dexterity, he swung the spear upwards to guard against an incoming stab, then lunged at Gault. His adversary brought his sword up to guard, locking both combatants into a battle stance as they struggled against each other.

"Gault…" Gardner's eyes were narrowed dangerously. "Don't do this. You don't know what-"

"_I know perfectly well what I'm about to do, Gardner." _Gault snarled, the demonic edge returning to his voice. "_And you will not stop me."_

"Don't presume to think that I will show you any mercy, Isentryx." Gardner returned icily.

Gault's eyes glowed with hate before he roared, "Dark Reprisal!"

Gardner countered the magic with his arcane lance, then angrily slammed the spear into the ground. "Redemption!" The ground broke apart with a mighty roar as bolts of lightning erupted from the floor of the Sanctuary, throwing Gault into the air. In midair, though, Gault raised his Shinebow and roared, "Demon Strafe!"

The attack caught Gardner slightly unawares and he took an arrow to the shoulder. He swore in pain and clutched at his bleeding wound. Gault raised his bow and he was forced to roll painfully across the floor to avoid the attack. _Damn it. I need more room to maneuver._

He raised his hand and commanded, "Fire Phoenix!" A gigantic, feral bird, its body alight with flame, materialized from the air and knelt next to him. Swiftly, he climbed onto it and rose into the air, aiming an attack at Gault from above. "Dragon Pulse!"

The explosion of lightning came too swiftly for the dark bowman below; there was a cry of "Puppet!" and he emerged from the resulting crater with a few slight cuts and bruises.

_So that's how you're going to play the game…Well, then so be it. _Gault raised a hand and commanded, "Umbral Raven!" Slowly, a gigantic, streamlined bird, blacker than the shadow around it, materialized from the air, which he mounted and rose into the air.

There was a terrifying screech from both birds as they soared and pecked at each other, colliding at tremendous speeds. It was all either rider could do to keep from falling to their death as the birds screeched louder and louder, driving each other up towards the high ceiling of the dome.

"Dark Reprisal!" Gault roared, his fingers glowing dark with energy.

With a thunderous explosion, both birds crashed into the roof of the dome. The Balrogs and Tauros stared upwards in trepidation as a lone figure riding atop a huge bird soared out of the smoke.

"_Foolish." _Gault growled, his voice resuming its demonic edge. "_To think he could have defeated me…"_

Suddenly, there was a loud phoenix's screech and a burst of flame erupted from the ceiling. Gault's eyes barely met the ceiling before he heard a deep voice roar, "Hurricane!"

The cloud of smoke immediately burst as a massive storm of emerald-colored wind blades ripped furiously through the air, heading straight for the dark bowman.

Gault never had a chance; totally unprepared, the vicious gusts slammed straight into him, leaving several deep gashes across his body as he plummeted from his mount in the air. With a great crash, he hit the ground forcefully and lay still.

Rathias Gardner guided the phoenix softly to the ground as he alighted. He stroked the phoenix behind the neck, murmuring his thanks. It gave a throaty growl before vanishing in a flash of flame. Sighing, he then fixed his gaze on the limp figure before him. Droplets of Gault's blood stained the stone floor as he lay facedown in the rubble.

Slowly, Gardner's footsteps echoed across the Sanctuary as the Balrogs and Tauros breathlessly watched. He stood over the fallen bowman, a single tear falling from his eye.

"You still aren't strong enough to defeat me, Gault." he said, his long amber ponytail drifting in the soft wind. "And you never will be. Don't forget that."

Gault staggered to his knees, painfully, blood sheeting down his face. He opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden spasm of pain overtook him and he lay there silently, seething with hate, as Gardner continued on.

"I know you're still alive, Isentryx." he said, darkly. "I promised not to show you any mercy…" He raised the Shinebow to his shoulder.

Then he let it fall.

"I'm not like you." he said, sheathing his bow. "I've known you ever since the day you were born from your mother, and I know you're still there somewhere. Somewhere, deep inside you, I know there is a part of you that is good."

Gault continued to stare at his former teacher with a mixture of hate and self-disgust. "It's not too late for you to correct your mistakes, Gault. I still have a single ray of faith in you; you were my best student and you still are. Don't make this the last mistake I ever make."

Gault and Gardner continued to glare angrily at each other, until finally the bowmaster turned away and proceeded to walk slowly out of the Sanctuary, leaving Gault on the floor.

He didn't want Gault to see his hot, bitter tears; somehow, he knew that the child he once knew as Gault Isentryx had been stripped away forever and would never return.

_Gods of the heavens…please forgive me…_

-----

"W…where…am…I?"

"Cheer up, Ark." someone said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Who…are you?"

"You're one to forget a face easily, aren't you?"

"Wha…" The dark hair, the bandana, and the smiling face came into focus.

"Ryden…?"

"Who else?" The crusader gave a wide grin. "Lighten up! You should be happier for someone who got hit by a fatal necromantic arte and underwent a totally experimental surgery…"

"Ugh." Ark sat up in bed, his disheveled raven-black hair falling across his face. "I…"

"Yes, I'm sure you have a lot of questions." Ryden said, offering his friend a glass of water. "Gardner's on it. We're all waiting for him to come back."

"It's not that." Ark said, wincing in pain as he took the glass. "It's just…Zer…"

"Oh." Ryden's expression softened. "I know…It must really come as a shock…"

"How could he?!" Ark snarled. "He wouldn't…He couldn't…!"

"I don't think he did it, either." Ryden said calmly. "Zer isn't the kind of person who goes around in a rage destroying cities."

"True." Ark sipped the water. "How's Ascion taking it?"

"Pretty well, actually." Ryden sighed. "It's just…Marron…"

"What about him?"

"He…got kinda pissed, if you get my point." The swordsman shrugged. "I tried to talk to him, but…it didn't help."

Ark sighed, looking out the window. "Has it…really come to all this? I never thought I'd live to see the day when Victoria became engulfed in a war…"

"There's no telling when a fight will break out." Ryden said, his gaze slowly focused on the window as well. "I don't think Henesys is very safe at the moment. Athena evacuated all except the most able-bodied bowmen."

"You do realize, that if people come to destroy Henesys…" Ark sighed. "We will have to fight against them."

"I…don't know if I can." Ryden sighed balefully. "Supporting Zer is one thing, but fighting against innocent people only looking to avenge their lost ones…That's something else altogether."

"It's…Gault." Ark said softly.

"Who?" Ryden asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You…" Ark winced again. "Never mind. I suspect Gardner will tell you when he gets back."

"Indeed."

There was a hurried knock at the door; Ryden strode over and opened it. "Ah, Ascion, what's up?"

"Gardner's back." Ascion said hurriedly. Upon hearing this, Ryden immediately dashed out of the room without another word. Sighing, Ascion strode over to his brother's side.

"You feeling better?"

"Very." Ark sighed. "Thanks for the healing."

"Oh, it wasn't me." Ascion shrugged. "Stupid hermits with their alchemy…It puts all of magic in perspective now. Still…" He sighed. "It's nice to see you're alive."

"Yeah." Both siblings fell silent.

"Do you think Zer…" Ark began.

Ascion merely shook his head.

"You're right." Ark sighed. "I can only hope that the rest of Victoria will realize that before…"

Ascion sighed, staring out the window. "This isn't the best time for words. Gardner's back. I'll tell you about it as soon as I get the time. Rest up."

"No. I'll go down with you." Swiftly, Ark belted on his armor and sheathed his axe.

"Ark…" Ascion gave him a look of worry. "I don't think that your wounds have healed yet…"

"What are you talking about? I feel fi-agh!" Ark clutched at his side in pain.

Ascion shook his head. "Never mind." He pointed his hand at his brother and muttered, "Heal."

"Thanks."

"You can come along if you want, but don't overtax yourself."

Both siblings headed downstairs.

-----

As soon as Rathias Gardner had appeared through the great doors of the mansion, everyone had nearly fallen over, surprised that he had managed to survive with barely a few small wounds. However, the quibble quickly ceased, as everyone was eager to hear what the bowmaster had to say.

"Alright." He cracked his knuckles. "I had my suspicions that Phoenix wasn't behind this whole mess, but they were only confirmed later." He sighed. "First of all, to those of you that are still here, I would like to thank you for not dropping out on a critical time like this. I wish I could say the rest for the other hundred."

He drew a chair. "But that aside," he said, sinking himself in it, "I believe it's time to enlighten the precious few of you that don't know who exactly we're against."

There was an almost religious silence in the room. Taking a sip of water from the table, Gardner began his story.

"Once, I was Athena Pierce's best student; a young, adventurous lad who was willing to risk anything and everything in order to become the greatest bowmaster in the world. I was told that in order to achieve this goal, I would have to master a technique known as Final Attack."

He kneaded his fingers across the table. "Athena told me that she was the only one to have mastered the technique; everyone else who had attempted it had either killed themselves or gone insane. Being the heedless kind of fourteen-year old that I was at the time, I immediately set to the task. I won't go into detail about the tortures that I had to endure, but…" He rolled up his sleeves and there was a collective gasp around the room. "That pretty much sums it up."

The silence in the room had grown dark. Gardner merely shrugged and continued on. "Around this time, I befriended a boy named Keiga Seles; a spearman. Like me, he also had grand aspirations of making it to the fourth class. It turned out that he, too, had also decided to accept the burden of Final Attack; and no, not the bog-standard crap that all warriors use." His gaze grew sharper. "He was attempting to use something known as the power of the dragons; the force that all Dragon Knights harness in battle. He intended to use this force to harness what is known as a 'Third Release'; that is, the ability to use Final Attack in conjunction with a third-class arte. Very few have mastered this ability."

He took another drink of water and continued on. "I realized that even at my level, I could not hope to use Final Attack and thus the third release on my own. The strain would have been too great. So, Seles and I became companions; together, we combined our mana and did what one person alone could not. We were able to develop our skills with Final Attack to an extremely high level; I believe we once leveled a whole mountain near Perion. It gave the locals quite a headache, I tell you…"

He broke off. "But never mind that. Having mastered Final Attack, the time came to put it to the test. Three years later, Seles and I took our third-class advancement exams and passed them with flying colors…so to speak. Then, Athena Pierce and Sitting Bull did something never done before in the history of this world; Seles and I were sent to Zakum Dungeon."

"But..why?" someone asked.

"To gain the power of the dragons." Gardner sighed. "It seemed that the apparent time for a heir to the leaders had arisen; in order to make sure we were competent, our instructors asked us to confront Zakum and receive the dragons' gift at Zakum Altar. We had no idea what exactly the dragons' gift or Zakum was."

He sighed. "Summararily, I think it sufficient to say that Seles and I, with our powers, managed to defeat Zakum, although not without cost." There was a shudder around the table, but he did not elaborate. "Then the spirit of the dragons arrived and granted us their so-called 'gift'; in other words, Seles could become a Dark Knight, and I a Bowmaster."

"So…the power of the fourth class is linked to this 'gift of the dragons'?" someone else asked.

"It would seem so." Gardner sighed. "As it turned out, the dragons had made a pact with the first founders of the classes; the ancestors of Sitting Bull, Athena, Grendel, and Dark Lord. This power was passed along the generations, dictating who would be the leader of the warriors, bowmen, magicians, and thieves. Neither Sitting Bull nor Athena had children, or planned to, so I suppose it was their way of choosing a heir apparent."

He took a glance about the room before continuing on. "As it turned out, I was seventeen when this all went on; I continued to take my training as a Ranger in the fields of Ossyria, but my prowess with Final Attack continued to gnaw at my conscience. Somehow, I knew I had to train another, to fulfill my place when I was gone, just as Athena had selected me."

He pressed his palms together. "Time passed, and the day occurred when I was thirty years old. I returned to Henesys and found, to my amazement, that Athena had found a perfect student for me to train. His name was Gault Isentryx and he showed a natural brilliance for the bow. At first, he seemed like everything I had looked for in a successor. Ecstatic, I took him as a student on the spot."

"But as time wore on…it became obvious that he was…different."

"How so?" someone asked.

"For starters…" Gardner muttered. "Even when I informed him of the dangers of Final Attack; that only seemed to make him more and more eager. To my great surprise, he showed a natural talent to this as well, only ever receiving one scar from its use in his lifetime, as far as I know. In addition, he fostered a strong hatred for the other three classes; he believed them to be dominating yet weak. He believed that it was the bowmen who were destined to rule over the world. I tried to convince him that this was not so, but to no avail."

"I trained him until he entered his seventieth level; then I dismissed him from my service. For all I was concerned, I never cared for him again; until one day, I received a letter from him."

The tension in the room was almost tangible. "He told me that he had reached his ninetieth level. Remembering me as his mentor, he insisted that I accompany him to Ossyria to do battle with Zakum. I wondered why, but I later found out that he intended to take possession of this." He took out his bow. "The Dragon Shinebow; an artifact of incredible power. Only three of each of the Dragon weapons exist, and they were forged in the time of the Final Four themselves. I seized one, but could not prevent him from taking the other."

"What does all this have to do with…the situation at hand?" someone piped up.

Gardner's eyes turned cold. "Soon after taking possession of the Shinebow, I heard naught from him; until once again he sent me a letter; a letter telling me that he had started a training academy for bowmen. I believed that he was to do good, and that he wished to strengthen the bowmen as I had tried to teach him. Eagerly, I entered his service as head instructor."

He sighed wistfully. "If only…I hadn't made that mistake. If some of you remember, he grew more and more disillusioned with himself, leading up to the revolt in Ellinia and the discovery of the Necromantica in his room. I had not wished to believe it, that my student was using necromancy to achieve his means. I continued to trust him, even after that."

"And that…" he finished, "is what led, more or less, to the destruction of Victoria Island. The idea that Phoenix was involved in all of this was nothing more than unfortunate circumstance. Phoenix and Isentryx had met earlier in their youth, and Zeraion was used as Gault's tool as a scapegoat. He is no more the destroyer of Victoria than any of you are."

The eerie silence that resulted afterwards was broken by a dismal "The rest of the survivors won't understand that." from no less than Igzarion.

"I know that perfectly well, Iggy." Gardner said, standing up and stringing his Shinebow. "Those who left have probably expounded Phoenix's ties to us; I have no doubt that a brigade of survivors from Perion, Ellinia, and Kerning City will come to attack us at any moment."

"Who…are we supposed to fight against?" someone asked. It was Dariel Marron.

"I have told you. We are to fight against Gault." Gardner stated calmly. "And in the event that we ARE attacked; we must survive. We are the only ones who do not doubt Zeraion Phoenix's innocence in this incident; if we and this concept die, then the world will only be a sitting duck for Gault to take over. It is all part of his plan."

"So…you're saying…" Marron said, his knuckles whitening as he made a fist. "We have to kill the survivors of the massacre that are less guilty than even Phoenix."

Gardner gave the crusader a steely glare. "I am not asking you to take pleasure in the acts that we must commit to preserve our own safety. In the end, you know that if we don't kill them, Gault will."

Marron merely shrugged darkly.

"Now…" Gardner said, standing up, "I was wondering if-"

He never got to finish his sentence; a thunderous explosion rocked the walls of the mansion as some pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling.

"So…" Gardner murmured, drawing his Shinebow. "The first battle of this war begins…"

Everyone else in the room nodded and solemnly drew their weapons.

"…now."

-----

Ryden nervously unsheathed his red-tinted katana as another explosion impacted against the walls of the mansion. Even after hearing Gardner's words, he still felt repugnant to the killing of innocent people. He glanced around at his comrades and saw that they all had the same bitter look on their faces, but- as Gardner had said- there was simply no other way. Trying to negotiate would likely not get them anywhere.

In the end, the only solution that they could find was to brandish their blades. History had given several examples of wars between people that had started over a simple dispute or argument, that could have been meditated with a simple discussion but instead had to take the lives of thousands. If any honor existed in war, it was to prevent others from harm. He tried to instill this in his mind. _At least…those that must die…will be reunited with their familiies._

He noticed Ark staggering slightly out of the corner of his eye; slightly worried, he made his way over to the axeman and asked, "You gonna be all right?"

"Sure, I will." Ark gave a wolfish grin.

Ryden sighed and returned the look, but only half-heartedly. There was no more time for sentiments; this was war, pure and simple.

_One side must triumph…and one side must fall._

Gardner threw open the doors. An extraordinary sight met their eyes; about a hundred warriors, magicians, and thieves were lined up in strict fashion, weapons drawn. The leader of them all, a large warrior brandishing an Omega Spear, stepped up and bellowed in a loud voice:

"Attention! We are a band of survivors from the destruction of Perion, Ellinia, and Kerning City. Currently, we seek only the perpetrator of this unforgivable crime; one ranger, Zeraion Phoenix. Hand him over and your lives shall be spared."

"My good people, you have it all wrong." Gardner said calmly. "Zeraion Phoenix was merely the scapegoat in what would be a venture by one Gault Isentryx. I have already apprehended him and I would suggest that if you wish revenge on the destroyer of this island, you would do better to confront him than to go chasing after a totally innocent person."

There was a dumbfounded silence from the opposing party, followed by shouts of "Lies!" "Murderer!" "Destroyer!"

"So be it." Gardner shrugged. "If you will not leave, then we shall have no choice but to…forcibly displace you."

The crowd paused for another tense second before charging, their weapons drawn and raised as they chanted a battle-cry. "Avenge our families! Find Zeraion Phoenix and make him pay!"

"Alright. You guys know what to do." Gardner said, gesturing to Tales, Arundale, Igzarion, and Arklanser. "The rest of us will go to the frontlines." Saying so, he then took his Shinebow and roared, "Strafe!" Four arrows flew from his bow and soared into the crowd; there were shouts of pain as they fell. Behind him, there were four more shouts of "Strafe!" A flurry of spectral arrows flew into the crowd, dispatching a large number of them, but the main bulk of their forces remained, still thirsty for blood.

Ryden nodded, his mouth dry as he charged forward along with Gardner and the last remnants of The Resistance. A large warrior came upon him and raised his sword; in response, he parried the blow and all those that came after it. It was harder for him to fight his own class directly; as he looked into the warrior's face, he thought, _This could be me._

There were more shouts of pain from around him, and Ryden suddenly understood. _This is war. _He could afford no mercy; drawing his katana, he gave the deathblow, stabbing the crimson blade directly past his opponent's armor. The warrior gasped and went limp, but Ryden didn't hesistate. There was no mercy in war.

Ryden then turned to another foe, a magician, and stabbed him before he could cast a spell. The victim gave another bloody howl as his life was forfeit. Redrawing his sword, laced with blood, he saw a thief charging at him, dagger in hand. Swiftly, he raised a palm and commanded, "Shout!" The thief flew backwards, stunned, and was accidentally impaled by one of his comrades' spears.

Ryden shifted his gaze to Ark, who was with some difficulty fighting against two Dragon Knights at once. Rushing over, Ryden tapped his blade against one Dragon Knight's armor. The spearman looked up in surprise before Ryden swiftly drove his katana into his side. This gave Ark the opportunity to finish off his other opponent with a helm-crushing blow.

"Thanks." Ark said.

"No problem." Ryden said darkly.

Ascion and Iris were dueling together, Ascion providing defense to the two of them while Iris attacked with spears of lightning. Swiftly, a cracking lance materialized in her hand and she flung it through three people before summoning another one to guard against a warrior's incoming strike. Slightly sickened, Ascion turned his attention to the enemies coming at him; he quickly shouted, "Invincible!" His enemies' attack glanced off of his guard, giving Iris the opportunity to finish them with blades of ice.

"We need to take them out faster." Ascion said darkly.

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" Iris snarled hurriedly. "Magic Booster!"

"This isn't going to work." Ascion sighed. "Iris, guard me." He took a book out of the pocket of his robe.

"Ascion, what the hell are you doing?" she yelped. "This isn't exactly the best time to start reading!"

"I'm well aware of that." he shot back. "Guard me."

Iris scowled, but raised a hand and commanded, "Magic Guard!" She managed to deflect an opponent's sword before she killed him with a bolt of lightning. Suddenly, a thief lashed out at her, throwing two steel stars that slashed the side of her arm. She yelped in pain and angrily speared the attacker through the chest.

"Can you hurry it up?!" she shouted.

"Almost…Give me a minute." Ascion said, still quickly riffling through the book. "Got it!"

"Whatever you're about to do, do it fast." Iris snarled, blood sheeting down her arm. "I don't know how long I can last…"

"All right!" He swiftly pocketed his book and folded his hands together; a holy symbol began to glow on his palms. "_Spirits of the heavens, I command thee to lend me thy power! Purge the land of this enemy and send them to rest in the afterlife!"_

A bolt of lightning shot from Ascion's hands into the sky, forming itself into a globe of shining light. Ascion quickly folded his hands and aimed the holy symbol at a group of enemies nearby. "_Heavenlapse!"_

Bolts of supercharged light began to fly downwards from the globe, quickly taking out a large group of about twenty to thirty foes. Ascion brushed his sweaty hair out of his face before turning to his partner. "Sorry." he said, quickly healing her arm.

"You…didn't tell me you could do that." she stammered.

"Oh, these things just come naturally…" He winked. "If you memorized Grendel's encyclopedia."

She rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, Schuyler and Joe were off to the side; Scuhyler was angrily flinging fiery arrows at her assailants, while Joe and his shadow replica were hurriedly throwing knives with incredible accuracy at their enemies.

"How much longer is this going to last?" Schuyler whined.

"Not much longer." Joe flung another pair of Steelys at an enemy and watched the limp figure fall. "Ascion managed to thin out the troops with a powerful arte some time ago, so it should be a piece of cake to take them on.

"I could get rid of them easily if you'd give me a little room." she muttered.

"Be my guest." he replied, setting his palms together. "Haste!" With that, he leapt several feet in the air before landing some distance away from her. "Do what you have to!" he called.

"All right…" Schuyler grit her teeth and tightened her grip on her staff. "I summon the powers of flame to extinguish my foes! Explosion!"

There was a brilliant flash before the combatants surrounding the mage were caught in an inferno of orange-red flame. Their howls disintegrated as the spell died out, leaving only ashes behind.

"Whew…" Joe let out his breath. "I'd hate to get on the bad side of you."

"Don't start." she murmured, whacking him on the back.

There were only a handful of enemies left; when they saw that they were overpowered by these groups of highly trained individuals, they quickly turned tail and fled, promising revenge on Zeraion Phoenix.

Ryden watched all of this with a saddened air; he knew it had been necessary, but…he cast his eyes over the bloodstained landscape. About seventy or eighty bodies were strewn about the land, and he, no less, had probably delivered the final blow to about twenty of them.

_How many more must die to thwart a single madman…?_

Sighing, the cruader sheathed his bloodied sword and scanned the landscape for any signs of life. Ark and everyone else were still on their feet, albeit not without a few wounds, but Ascion was quickly tending to them.

With grim satisfaction, the raven-haired swordsman raked a hand across his forehead, matted with dirt, blood, and sweat. Suddenly, his eyes caught notice of something that made his blood run cold.

There was no sign of Dariel Marron, dead or alive, on the landscapes of Henesys.

_Shoot. _Swiftly, without alerting the others, Ryden turned and ran, determined to find his teammate at all costs.

-----

Slowly, I walked the rugged landscapes of Perion, towards Henesys. If I wasn't safe there, I couldn't be anywhere. Perhaps Gardner, at least, could offer some words of wisdom. At the very least, I had to be on the move, at all times.

Suddenly, a shadow crossed my path, and I ignored it, thinking it to be a stray drake, but it wasn't.

It was Dariel Marron. There was fury etched in every single line of his face; he looked as though he'd aged twenty years. His Doombringer was out and unsheathed and he was pointing it at me.

"What-" I started to say, but he only strode forward.

"Don't make a move. If you do, I will kill you."

"Marron…" My head was spinning. "What is this all about-"

Then it clicked into place. "Marron, no! It's not what you think! I didn't-"

"I don't care what Gardner, you, or anyone else says." the crusader growled, his glare burning holes in me. "The fact is, that someone destroyed the town of Perion some time ago. And for that, someone must pay with their life."

"Marron, don't do this!" I strung my Arund, but made no move to use it. "You don't know who the real enemy is-"

"I don't need to know." he said darkly. "All I know is that you're going to die." He raised his massive sword and charged directly at me.

Out of instinct, I swung the Abyssal Arund upwards. "Power Knock-Back!" To my surprise, the bow held up well against the impact of the sword. Angrily, Marron slashed again and again, forcing me to block repeatedly. I could have taken him down with a cry of "Inferno!" but I dared not hurt him until he knew all the facts.

"Marron, listen to me." I snarled, blocking another blow from his sword. "I'm not the one to blame for all this. I was framed."

"You can tell that to the spirits who reside in heaven, Phoenix." he snarled.

Then he raised his sword. "Fire Charge!"

I was stunned. _How the hell…can a Crusader…use a White Knight's technique?!_

"Panic!" he roared, slamming the blade into me. The force was too much for me, and I flew backwards in a shower of sparks, crashing limply into the stone wall nearby and dropping weakly to the floor.

He strode coolly over to me and raised his red-hot blade. "This ends now."

-----

Author's Note: Yep! Cliffie! I'm so nice…

Anyway, I apologize once more for the little 'surgery scene'. I got that from watching an old episode of some medical drama, I can't remember the name. I debated for a while about whether to leave it in or not, but I finally decided, what the hell. Anyway, I did do some medical research while writing this chapter (but not much) so if any of you are in the medical profession and want to point out an error, I'm sorry in advance. Give me a little credit; it's alchemy here.

By the way, the term 'arte' isn't a spelling error. If you've played Tales of the Abyss, the term is basically used for a spell. I borrowed the principle.

So…anyway, I woke up early to finish this chapter and I have my English midterm in half an hour, so review nicely:D


	10. Aslan

**Chapter 10**

Author's Note: You people jump to conclusions too quickly…Last chapter, you all thought Ark was dead, now you all think Marron's a hacker? That's new…

My greatest apologies for the great delay in updates. I blame a fever, massive writer's block, writing an essay about Rasputin, evil parents, and the slight downturn in the quality of reviews for that.

And for those who are slightly annoyed by the inconsistent plot flow; That's just the way I write, because unlike other authors with time on their hands, I'm not exactly thrilled about writing pages of filler to keep the plot in check. Unless you'd like to read page after page of "Zer killed (insert monster name here)', I can't help you. I am not a New York Times bestseller author. Yes, I am a lazy bum, but that is what high school and writer's block does to you. Besides, I haven't been playing Maple for ages (hence a lack of inspiration); the 'inconsistent' plot will hopefully get better in time. Then again, I'm not forcing you to read this, so if you're not perfectly satisfied with the plot, you can go read The Lone Crusader. It's shorter, but a hell of a lot better as far as plot/storyline is concerned.

Speaking of The Lone Crusader, there are slight spoilers for that story. (Although I do have the Chief's permission to do so.)

Oh, and although you won't notice, I revised Chapters 1, 2, 5, and 6 (as well as replaced one word in Chapter 3). There are no major differences, just correcting a few minor errors and replacing certain adjectives that I didn't like. I will revise the rest of the story later when I have time

So, just enjoy the longest chapter ever.

* * *

_Damn, damn, damn._

The expletive rooted itself in Ryden's mind as he raced furiously through the forests of Henesys to the dry plains of Perion. He tried to reassure himself that Marron was not going to do what he expected him to do, but Ryden knew his teammate all too well. Marron had an explosive temper and would frequently unleash it out of Seles' hearing. It wouldn't be too far to say…that he would even harbor a hate against someone to the point of death.

Swiftly, he drew his katana, cutting through the underbrush in his way. No doubt Phoenix had to be somewhere near Perion; he couldn't have strayed far from the scene of the crime. Marron probably knew that as well.

"Ackk!" He swore as he emerged from the bushes into the Perion sunlight, bright spots exploding into his eyes. Panting, he looked around wildly until his sight returned. Dust blew over the dry landscape, stinging his eyes. He pulled his bandana farther down his forehead and glanced down at the ground.

_Footprints. _Drawing his blade, he cast a glance at the dusty marks in the ground before running as swiftly as he could, his greaves clinking against the dry plateau.

-----

Somberly, the remaining survivors of the attack near Henesys stood on their bloodied land.

"I…never thought it would come to this." Ark muttered, staring at his bloodied axe with a kind of abhorrent look.

"Neither did I." Ascion sighed darkly, his blood-spattered robe fluttering ominously in the dry breeze. "But we did what we had to."

"It's not going to do these bodies any good if we just let them stay here." Tales sighed, folding his arms. "We'll have to bury them."

"Agreed." Slowly, half of the people on the field hoisted corpses onto their shoulders while the other half hollowed makeshift graves in the ground nearby.

Only Traphes Igzarion remained standing where he was; he cast a sort of despondent look over the landscape, then shrugging his shoulders listlessly, his dark hair flowing over them, he walked back into the mansion.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalia Arundale saw him; slowly, she murmured a few quick words to Tales and silently trailed after him.

Darkly, Igzarion trudged to the kitchen. Suddenly, a spasm of pain seemed to overtake him and he stopped dead in his tracks, clutching at his head fervently. "Sonofabitch." he swore, rubbing his temples until the pain abated; he staggered to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out a steel cocktail shaker.

He poured the brass-colored liquid inside into a nearby glass and sat at the table, eyeing it with some contempt; he picked up the glass, but someone else's hand also seized it.

"Don't drink that, Iggy." Arundale said darkly, her long eyelashes casting a shadow over her pupils. "You know that stuff isn't good for you-"

"Does it look like I have a choice?" Igzarion retorted flatly, snatching the glass out of her hand and downing it in one gulp. He limply fell back into his seat, letting his dark hair dangle down towards the floor.

"Iggy…" She slowly ran her fingers along his palm. "You can't…"

There was a slurred mumble of protest from the limp figure next to her.

-----

"Marron…" Zeraion Phoenix stared at the figure towering over him with its blade raised. "Don't-"

"_Silence, Phoenix!" _Marron roared, his face contorted with fury. He swung the fiery sword again, but out of anger it missed the bowman's head by a few inches, instead colliding with the stone wall and creating a large flood of sparks.

_Damn it. _Painfully, Phoenix staggered to his feet. "Inferno!" he roared, snapping his fingers.

A large burst of flame erupted from his fingertips and hurled itself at Marron; he raised his sword to block the incoming attack and charged again, narrowly missing once more.

Quickly, Phoenix saw the opening and raised his bow, but he faltered. _I'm not going to kill another innocent victim because of this._

Marron saw his opponent's moment of hesistation and didn't pause; with an almighty roar, he wrenched his Doombringer out of the stone and launched himself at Phoenix.

Without warning, a voice rang through the cavern and roared, "Shout!"

Marron was thrown off his feet by the new arrival and crashed into the wall; he staggered to his feet to see a raven-haired figure standing before him, katana poised.

"Ryden?" Marron's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?"

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you, Dariel." Ryden said darkly, not taking his eyes off Marron. "Why are you doing this? Killing Phoenix isn't going to bring back the people that died-"

"What would you have me do?!" Marron retorted furiously in anger, charging at Ryden. Swiftly, Ryden brought his sword up to guard as the two crusaders met in a shower of sparks. Growling, both warriors pushed their swords against each other, not willing to yield.

"You don't know what it's like." Marron snarled. "How would you feel if you saw all those innocent lives being taken? You would have to avenge them too-"

"Did you not forget that I was with you that night?" Ryden retorted, returning Marron's glare with equal force. "There will be revenge in the end, I assure you, but not like this."

"Ryden, get out of the way, or I will have to kill you as well." Marron said in a final tone.

"Go ahead and try…Dariel Moron." Ryden gave his opponent a snide grin.

Marron's pupils seemed to explode with fury. "I will make those words your last, Ryden!" He slowly murmured some incantation under his breath. Red lines of energy began to flow from his palms into the blackened steel of his blade, illuminating it a bloody crimson in the light.

_The hell? _Ryden's eyes widened in astonishment as he struggled furiously to withstand Marron's increased strength. _That doesn't look like any crusader arte I know…_

"SACRIFICE!" Marron roared, swinging his blade in a great arc towards Ryden. With a massive clang, his great sword impacted furiously against Ryden's thinner brand, sending it flying out of his hand. Swearing, a blister on his palm where the grip of the blade had rubbed, Ryden looked up in time to hear a roar of "Dragon Buster!"

Three great blasts of blue energy impacted against Ryden, sending him skidding backwards across the floor and lying painfully on his back with deep cracks in his armor.

_No…no way…He just used a Dragon Knight ability…That's impossible…_

Still swearing under his breath, Ryden cast a gaze over to his sword, lying in the dust. The force of Marron's strike had created a deep gash in the red blade, rendering it somewhat useless for further heavy combat. Ryden's heart caught at the sight of his ruined weapon; however, he saw Marron bearing swiftly down on him again.

_Shoot! _He leapt painfully out of the way as Marron's blade made a deep rift in the sun-baked earth. _I can't do much with my bare hands. _He raised a palm and roared, "Shout!" The resulting blast of energy impacted forcefully against Marron and sent him sprawling for the moment.

Swiftly, Ryden ran over to Phoenix, his Arund still strung. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Phoenix had a drawn look on his face. "Even though he tried to kill me, I can still see his point of view." His grip on his bow seemed to slacken. "I can't shoot him now. That would be playing into Gault's hands."

"I know." Ryden muttered. "But that aside, it's not going to be a good lookout if he kills us. Do you have a sword?"

"Here." Zeraion handed Ryden his Traus.

"How do you expect me to use this piece of-"

"Do I look like Seles to you?" the ranger muttered, his eyes now focusing on the ground.

Ryden cast the blade a dark look before returning his attention to Marron, his blade raised once more. He raised the Doombringer. "Dragon Fury!"

The resulting wave of energy created another deep gash in the ground and snapped the blade of the Traus in half; Ryden staggered backwards, staring at the broken hilt in his hands.

"That helped." he muttered, tossing the remains of the sword aside. "I know you can't kill him, but stun him or something! Do you want us to die now?!"

Phoenix's mouth felt like sandpaper. "R-right." He aimed the sight of his bow at Marron and materialized the arrow. "Arrow Bomb!"

The resulting explosion caught Marron unawares; when the smoke cleared, he slowly staggered to his feet, a burn streaked across his armor. Once more, he raised his sword, but in typical fashion, another voice rang out before his.

"Shout!"

Marron flew backwards and hit the stone wall, as both Zeraion and Ryden turned to look at the newcomer.

"Hey." Ark Wolfen raised his Helios in greeting. "Sorry it took so long. Henesys really needs to do maintenance work on the rainforest."

"When'd you start following me?" Ryden asked suspiciously.

"Since both you and Marron disappeared from the place." Ark ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Did you see his-"

"Yeah." He raised his axe. "You don't have a sword?"

"It broke." Ryden shrugged. "That aside, I-"

"Wolfen?" Marron's voice sounded somewhat skeptical, as though he couldn't believe the sight in front of his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You can save the questions for later, Dariel. What I want to know is why exactly you're trying to kill my younger brother."

"You don't understand." Marron sighed, a kind of desolate, inane look in his eyes. "The people of Perion…were all slaughtered…"

Ryden sighed. "We've been through this already-"

"I…have to avenge them…It's my duty…as the heir…to the warriors…!"

"Marron…What the hell are you talking about?" Ark said slowly.

"None of you…will ever understand me!" the lone crusader roared, his Doombringer raised to the sky. "This ends now!" Purple lightning began to flash from the tip of his blackened blade.

"DRAGON ROAR!" Dariel Marron bellowed, slamming the great haft of his sword into the ground. Lavender-shaded bolts of electricity began to erupt from the ground, spreading from Marron's sword and viciously turning the ground into rubble. Zeraion, Ryden, and Ark were all caught in the blast radius of the attack and were thrown into the air, landing limply onto the shattered ground.

Marron fastidiously surveyed the remains of the landscape, sheathing his great sword. Ark and Ryden managed to stagger to their knees, staring at their former comrade with a mixture of hate and shock.

"Ark…Ryden…I'm sorry." Marron said, slowly.

Then he slowly walked off the dry plateau without another word.

"Damn…it!" Ryden got to his feet, pulling Ark up. "How could he…"

"No time for that." Ark brushed dust off of his armor, droplets of blood streaking his face. "Where's Zer?"

"Over…there." Ryden said, turning his gaze to a limp figure nearby. "Looks like he got the brunt of the attack…"

Both crusaders rushed over to Phoenix and hefted him up. "Damn it. He doesn't look too good."

"It's nothing Ascion can't heal." Ark hoisted his brother's legs over his broad shoulders. "More importantly, we need to find Seles as soon as possible. I have a feeling he knows something about this."

"Yes." Ryden lifted Zeraion over his head. "Perhaps one of the only Dark Knights left in this world can help us."

-----

"Hey, Natalia." Tales said, walking slowly into the kitchen. "How's Iggy?"

"He's fine." she said, still sitting by his side. "You know how he is when he…"

"I know." He sighed. "He was the one who made us all the spawn of the devil himself."

"Do you think he had a choice, Rysdale?" Arundale turned to eye the sniper darkly. "You know as well as I what he's had to go through. No one would choose such a fate."

"I said I know." he said gently, taking her hand. "And yet, we still chose to stand by him, when the rest of Henesys were prepared to go after him with pitchforks and torches."

"Rysdale…" She eyed him with an extremely serious look. "I know what he did was unforgivable, but…it's all that he can do, I mean, _look at him!_" She suddenly buried her hands in her face and began to sob.

"There, there." He put his hand on her shoulder. "We're in this together. Even though he might be an airhead and a prick sometimes, we all still love Iggy…"

She threw a dry smile at him. "You're lucky he's still out cold."

"Don't make me shrottle you, Ryshdale." came the muffled growl of the limp figure nearby.

"Whatever, Iggy." Tales said, playfully thumping him on the back. "So," he said, assuming a more serious expression, "what are you planning to do in regards to Gault?"

"Besides track him down and shoot him, nothing much." she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

"Thought so." He shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "You might like to know that Phoenix is back, by the way."

Arundale's head immediately snapped to attention, and even Igzarion stirred a little. "What?!"

"Yes. Thankfully, he's in one piece, although…as usual, he's a bit banged up." He inclined his head slightly, then left.

"Damn it, Phoenix…What is it with you and these accidents with everyone?" She shook her head, then slowly rubbed Igzarion's hand before following the sniper.

-----

A battered Ark and Ryden burst through the front doors carrying the body of Zeraion Phoenix on their shoulders; Ascion knocked over his chair and rushed over to them, but exhaled in relief when he saw that the wounds were not serious.

"Again?" Joseph Stalrigarde eyed the limp figure of Zeraion Phoenix stretched out on the floor as he cracked his knuckles. "First Ark, now Zer…" He cast a glance at the chocolate-haired priest next to him. "You better start saying your prayers, Ascion."

"Shut up." Ascion took out his Phoenix Wand and murmured a quick spell, closing up his brother's wounds. "That wasn't terribly serious, but I think he needs a good night's rest before going out."

"Yeah, well, it's good to have him back and all that." Ryden sighed. "Come along, Ark. We have to find Seles. I suspect he'll be in the Dangerous Valley."

"Aren't you going to get yourselves healed?" Ascion called after them.

"And risk wasting a few precious seconds of my time?" Ryden retorted, before shutting the door in the priest's face.

"What's up with him?" Ascion murmured, before slowly lifting Zeraion over his shoulders and going upstairs.

-----

Slowly, Keiga Seles exhaled as he meditated in the Dangerous Valley, sitting motionlessly on a rock. The dangerous fire drakes lumbered cautiously around the figure. Normally, they would have immediately bared their jaws against the human, but they knew well enough to leave the Dark Knight alone.

_Perion…my birthplace and home…has been destroyed. But there's not really much I can do about it, is there…_

With a deep sigh, he shifted his position, taking the time to appreciate the gentle wind lapping against his cheeks as his auburn hair fluttered in the air.

"Master Seles! Snap out of it! There's something really important we need to ask you!"

Slightly put out, Seles opened his eyes. "What is it, Ryden? You know better than to disturb me when I am contemplating my state of affairs."

"Sorry." Ryden panted, out of breath; a second later, the slightly taller figure of Ark Wolfen appeared behind him. "But this is about Marron…"

"Really?" A look of interest manifested itself in the Dark Knight's eyes. "Go on."

"Master, what have you been hiding from us?" Ark demanded, making a fist.

"Whatever do you mean by that, Wolfen?" Seles asked, a look of surprise on his face.

"There's something about Marron that's different from all your other students." Ryden said hurriedly. "He was your first student. You must have done…something to him."

"What could you possibly mean?" Seles returned, but there was now a shadow of discontent behind his eyes.

"It's a long story." Ark sighed.

"Well, I'm not going to get any younger listening to you two. Go on."

"After the incident with Phoenix in Perion, Marron went…" Ryden winced. "Well, for lack of a better word, he kinda went insane."

"Apparently…" Ark sighed. "He was one of the people who tried to track down Zer."

"Indeed. I heard reports of renegade forces from Perion, Kerning, and Ellinia attempting to chase down Zeraion." Seles cracked his knuckles. "So, it seems Marron beat them all to the punch, did he?"

"In a way, yeah." Ryden shrugged. "And then he tried to kill him."

Like Rathias Gardner before him, Seles' stone expression faltered for a split second. "Excuse me?" he said, blinking slightly.

"Dariel…Marron…tried…to…kill…Zeraion…Phoenix." Ark said dryly.

Seles shot Ark a dry look before saying, "Yes, Wolfen, I think I know that. Are you sure this-"

"Yes, he tried to kill Phoenix!" Ryden almost screamed, rumpling his hair. "And then he tried to kill us as well!"

"Calm down, Ryden." Seles said darkly. "What I mean to say is, are you sure that-"

"We saw it with our own eyes, Master!" Ryden growled. "But that's not the point. Marron was able to use the abilities of a Dragon Knight as well. Buster, Sacrifice, and Roar."

"And you…are a Dragon Knight." Ark said. "So, naturally, we figured there had to be some connection…"

"Please." Ryden's eyes were wide with anticipation. "Tell us. How exactly was Marron- a Crusader- able to use the techniques of a Dragon Knight?"

"Yes, that should be interesting to hear." Ark said, staring at Seles with a steely glare.

Seles scrutinized the sky for a full minute, breathing deeply as he sat. Neither Ark nor Ryden dared to speak, knowing that the great man was trying to decide whether or not to reveal this information. Finally, he returned his cold stare to his remaining two students.

"Are you sure…you want to know?" he said slowly, in a tone Ark and Ryden had not heard him use before. "What I can tell you may shake you."

Both crusaders exchanged glances before saying, without hesitation, "Yes."

"Then sit down," Seles said, now eyeing his students with a very serious expression, "and listen well."

-----

"Where is everyone?" Arklanser sighed, marching into the room. "It's like a cemetery here…"

She immediately caught the dark irony of her remark. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter." Tales sighed. "Ryden and Ark went off to find Seles, Marron's on the run, Schuyler and Joe went off to Kerning, Ascion and Iris are in Ellinia for medical duty…" He counted them off on his fingers. "Oh yeah, Gardner also went off somewhere. He said he needed to clear his mind."

"Figures." She slumped down onto the couch. "You never know. Gault might decide to destroy Henesys just for the fun of it."

Tales cast her a dry look. "Even though Gault is terribly messed up in the head, I seriously doubt even he would do something like that. If anything, he'll probably make this place the capital of his impending dictatorship when he takes over the world."

"You're so optimistic." she muttered.

"Yes, I know." He stretched himself out on the sofa, just as Arundale re-entered the room.

"Do you mind?" she asked, whereas Tales reluctantly removed his feet from the cushion. "Sorry. Is Iggy any better?"

"He's fine. He just got a little…knocked up by his drink, as usual." She sunk herself onto the sofa. "I wish there was something we could do to help him."

"Natalia…" Arklanser's voice was surprisingly gentle. "We've done all we can."

"There has to be a way." She clenched a fist. "Some kind of spell or arte. He can't live like this much longer."

"Do you think that we've stopped searching for a solution?" Tales brushed some of his amber hair out of his eyes. "We can't remove it, as you very well know. The most we can do is suppress it."

"Suppress _what, _exactly?" a voice came from the foot of the stairs.

"Phoenix!" Arundale yelped, nearly falling off the sofa. "How long have you been-"

"Enough to know that something's seriously messed up with Iggy…although I kinda knew that from the start." He shrugged and leaned against the railing of the stairs, his blonde hair falling over his eyes. There was a strange look on his face, as though he'd aged several years.

The rest of the bowmen exchanged dark looks.

"He…has an illness of sorts." Tales said darkly.

"Really?" Phoenix raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Why am I not surprised?"

Arundale rolled her eyes. "Well, that being the case, I think you should know that he…has a sort of condition. From what we know, it's extremely detrimental to his health and…well, he has to take alcohol to suppress the effects. It's not a pleasant prospect, but it's…"

"Oh." Phoenix seemed thoughtful for a moment, then sighed. "Well…that kinda sucks. Tell him I hope he feels better. I'm going to go outside and train for a bit."

"Whatever suits you, Phoenix." Tales shrugged, still reclining on the sofa.

Phoenix unsheathed his bow and proceeded to walk out. As he left, he muttered silently under his breath, "You guys need to get better at making up stories…"

He shook his head and crossed the threshold of the great doors, stepping into the sunlight. The remains of crimson snow remained on the ground.

-----

"It's…so quiet." Iris gaped as she beheld the ruins of the once-great town of Ellinia.

"Yes. Too quiet." Ascion sighed. The city, being situated in the highly flammable forest, had suffered the worst damage during the raid. It was estimated that a third of the population was now dead, and another third was under the care of the understatedly overworked healing forces. Being one of Grendel's top students and a priest, Ascion had been given a high position in Ellinia's reconstruction forces.

Amidst all of the rubble, Ascion walked up towards a stray boulder and pressed his palm against it, uttering an incantation. The boulder glowed for a moment, then shivered and slid aside, revealing a hidden trapdoor in the ground. Ascion then muttered another spell and pulled up the trapdoor, revealing a large underground hospital. Magicians dressed in white coats and goggles were dashing around hurriedly, tending to limp figures in beds.

"Chief Medical Officer Ascion Blade!" A sweaty-faced ice wizard, a few inches taller than Ascion and the same height as Iris, dashed up to the pair. "It's good to see you're here."

"Same to you." Ascion sighed. "What are today's stats?"

The wizard grimaced. "We had about a hundred deaths today, sir. It was a stray infection that managed to escape our sterilization processes."

"Shoot!" Ascion cracked his knuckles, a ripple of tense pops sounding through the air. "Did you contain it?"

"Yes. However, it gave us all quite a scare." The wizard shook his head. "Grendel put you on duty today as supervisor for wards Omicron, Sigma, and Epsilon."

"The death slums, huh?"

"Indeed. Hopefully, you'll be able to reverse the fatality rate."

"I'm flattered." Another wizard ran up to Ascion, greeting him and handing him a white lab coat and a pair of goggles. He dressed himself and left Iris at the containment gate, walking through a complicated-looking disinfection machine. It ran on magitechnology and had recently been designed by several healers.

"Medical Officer Blade, sir!" A third wizard ran up to Ascion and handed him a scroll. "You all right? We have to continue our work on developing a new wide-range healing arte…These are our latest findings…"

"Tell me something I don't know." Ascion grumbled, running a gloved hand through his hair. "Have you guys made any progress?"

"Well…" Another cleric appeared from the side; she had short, dark hair and was clutching a stack of files covered with scribbled notes and equations. "We did come up with a new procedure that had a 50 percent success rate-"

"Meaning that if we use it, the other 50 percent of the wounded will die." Ascion said darkly. "We can't afford that. Let me see that," he added, snatching the top file out of her hands and reading it. "Geez, how do you guys get along without me?"

"Very badly, sir?" the wizard offered sheepishly.

"Never mind. I'll work on it. The rest of you, put down your quills and start picking up hypodermic syringes. I'm putting you all on nurse duty." The other two nodded and ran off in another direction, leaving Ascion with the files.

"Seriously…" He sighed and walked into a small room with a few potted plants, several reams of parchment, quill pens with ink, and a table. "And they call me 'sir' even though I'm the youngest person in this place." He took a glance at the previous files and began to scribble equations onto a sheet of wrinkled paper.

A minute later, Grendel, the leader of Ellinia, walked in.

"Medical Officer Blade?" he called. Ascion looked up from his work.

"Even you, too?" Ascion sighed, laying down his pen. "You know I dislike that title…"

"But it can't be helped." Grendel said bluntly. "You are, after all, pretty much the only person around here who knows enough about magic theory to devise a new healing arte."

"Yeah, well…" Ascion rumpled his hair. "At least there aren't any major infections floating around; that would really trigger a bad pandemic. Right now, healing the wounded is all we can do."

"It doesn't help that nearly all of our support healers were killed in the incident." Grendel sighed. "We have very few clerics able to keep up with the sheer number of the injured."

"Tell me about it. Look at this!" Ascion shoved a piece of paper towards Grendel. "Those morons messed up a couple of variables in their equations. So their so-called success rate is actually closer to thirty or forty percent…"

"Those so-called morons are doing the best they can." Grendel said gently.

"I know, I know." Ascion sighed, his hand flying across the parchment feverishly. "But seriously…I can't help but feel that the weight of this whole thing is on my shoulders. Just because I'm the Chief Medical Officer, everyone expects me to come up with a solution for this! Not to mention that Zeraion Phoenix also conveniently happens to be my brother…"

There was a noise like a pop gun as the tip of the priest's quill snapped, flying halfway across the room. He froze in mid-sentence on the paper, the ruined writing implement leaking ink all over the sheet. Grendel regarded him with a knowing expression.

"Damn it." he sighed, siphoning off the spilt ink with a snap of his fingers. "I can't blame Zer for this. After all…he and Ark are the only family I have left. And I know he would never do anything like that."

"I know." Grendel sighed. "Athena gave us all quite a bit of hell about that. She maintains that it's Gault Isentryx that was the real perpetrator of this incident, and we more or less believe her now. But-"

"-the rest of the world won't." Ascion finished. "Yeah, I know. I've…had to kill some people in defense of my beliefs." He looked silently at his page of scribbles. "I've…killed many innocent people. In a way, I'm no worse than Zer."

"Yes. We heard about the incident near Henesys. Rathias Gardner relayed that to Athena, who in turn told us about it. We've been trying to suppress the rebellions for the most part, but there are still some fanatics who believe that Phoenix is the criminal."

"Well…That's just their loss." Ascion sighed. "In the end, anyone who thinks Phoenix is the criminal is just a pawn in Gault's hands…And if we don't kill them, Gault eventually will."

"Words from the mouth of a wise man indeed." Grendel said with a dry, yet satisfied look.

Ascion said nothing as he removed a new quill from his desk drawer and glanced back to his equations listlessly, working them out for a few minutes as Grendel watched. Occasionally, he scribbled so hard that he left inky rips in the parchment.

"Not bad, Blade." Grendel said after a while.

"I've only been able to improve the success rate of their procedure by a few percent." Ascion slumped over the table. "This is hopeless."

"Maybe not." Grendel's gaze sharpened. "I stayed up late last night doing some arcane theory of my own. Using a few archaic theorems, I think I was able to come up with a far more efficient procedure than that." He drew a tightly bound scroll from his robe and handed it to the priest.

Ascion slit open the scroll and read it. "Master, this is amazing! I never would have thought of using those corollaries…" His face fell. "But it has a projected success rate of 75 percent. That means that-"

"25 percent of Ellinia's injured will die, I know." Grendel sighed deeply. "However, I haven't been able to come up with anything more efficient. I've exhausted just about every known theorem in existence, and this is the best we can do."

"That…" Ascion bit his lip, staring at the scroll in his hand.

"It's your decision on whether to use the arte or not. You're the Chief Medical Officer, after all."

"But I-"

"You can either use this technique that will save three-quarters of Bera's wounded and put the other quarter out of their misery, or you can continue to languish in this room and wait for those people to die. It's your choice."

Ascion opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; he stared at Grendel, who only returned his incredulous gaze with a knowing stare and walked firmly out of the room.

-----

"So…you wish to know exactly how Dariel Marron was able to use the abilities of a Dragon Knight, then?" Seles asked his students, casting them a glare that said, _There's no turning back._

"Of course." Both Ryden and Ark nodded.

"Very well, then. You're both grown crusaders, and I don't have the right to withhold this information from you any longer." He cracked his knuckles, then began his tale.

"Gardner told you about he and I became friends, went to Zakum, and attained the fourth class, I assume?" he asked. Both crusaders nodded.

"Then, in that case, my story picks up from that point." He breathed a few lungfuls of the cool evening air. "Zakum Altar was not exactly the most hospitable place for two level 70 adventurers to be. So…" He sighed. "Rathias and I attacked the great monolith to the greatest of our abilities. It was indeed a titanic battle, I tell you. We fought to our limits, using all our strength and techniques. In the end, we were forced to use a technique known as a third release. Did Gardner tell you what that is?"

"Yes." Ryden nodded. "It's when you use Final Attack with a third-class technique, is that correct?"

"Indeed." Seles inclined his head. "Both of us were extremely competent with Final Attack, but even this ability was still out of our reach. This technique, we had been told, was not to be used except by the strictest of experts. The resulting mana would probably destroy one's body from the inside out. Nevertheless, Rathias and I were so desperate that we would probably have been killed anyway. So…" Seles exhaled. "Using Dragon Roar and Inferno in conjunction, we stunned Zakum for a precious second; leaving it vulnerable while we harnessed the third release. Using the stray mana from our unison attack, we generated an immensely powerful amount of unstable energy and flung it at the huge rock without stopping to consider what the result of our actions might be."

There was a tense silence from Ark and Ryden; it seemed even the drakes had quieted a little. "Suffice it to say that the resulting blast was enough to severely weaken Zakum, allowing us to finish it off and seal it back in the depths of the lava. However, as we unfortunately discovered, the third release had indeed proved to be too much for us. It was only by the fact that our mana was combined that we managed to survive the episode. My left arm was immolated, and Gardner suffered the loss of his right arm."

"What do you mean by that?" Ark asked confusedly. "Your left arm seems fine, and Gardner can use his right arm perfectly well when using his bow…"

In answer, Seles held out the palm of his left hand, and as Ark and Ryden watched, dropped a small pebble from his right hand into his left. The pebble landed on the Dark Knight's palm, then quivered and rolled off, hitting the ground with a light noise.

"My arm has lost all use." Seles said placidly. "It has no strength, no veins or arteries to carry blood through it, no nerves for it to register feeling. I cannot even muster the strength to hold a miniscule stone in my left hand for more than a second; it remains only through the support of arcane enchantments. My arm is now no more than a useless bauble dangling from my shoulder. I have been forced to learn how to use a spear with only one hand."

"Then what about Gardner?" Ryden asked.

"Rathias was different." Seles sighed, turning his gaze to the sky. "He did not suffer as much from the third release as I did, presumably because his technique required far less mana than mine. The nerves and vessels of his arm were severely damaged, but were still present, unlike mine, which had been…vaporized."

Ignoring the disturbed look on his students' faces, Seles continued. "In any case, he knew that the loss of his arm would mean the end of his archery abilities. He underwent severe physiotherapy from Athena to regain the use of his limb. It took well over a year, but eventually, he was able to restore his arm to its former use. I, of course, was not so lucky…"

He broke off his dazed expression. "But never mind that. I was shattered by the loss of my left arm, but was determined to overcome this at all costs. Under the guidance of Sitting Bull, I trained my remaining arm furiously to be able to wield a spear efficiently once more. It was long, arduous work; every day, I would stare at myself in the mirror and wonder, _Is this what the power of Final Attack has come to? Instead of making me strong, it has crippled me. Yet…nevertheless, I won't let this defeat me. Someday, I will be able to use a spear once more. _Those words instilled confidence in me and gave me the ability to succeed."

He took a long glance at Ark and Ryden, then continued. "About a year after the loss of my arm, I was exceptionally fluent in the use of a spear with only one hand, being able to hold my own against peers with two hands. It was about this time that Sitting Bull decided to train me formally in using the third release to prevent a similar accident from happening. Every day, I would relentlessly channel magic through my arm, striving to achieve the successful use of Final Attack with a third-class ability."

"Master, I hate to interrupt, but where exactly does all this bullsh-" He coughed. "-stuff tie in with Marron?" Ark asked.

Seles cast a dry glance at Ark. "Impatient, aren't you, Wolfen? Well, suffice to say, I did eventually master the third release, being the first warrior besides Sitting Bull to ever have done so. That being the case, simply put, after some careful deliberation, Sitting Bull decided to adopt me as the heir to the leader of the warriors."

"Y-" Both Ark and Ryden spluttered. "You're…the future leader of the warriors?"

"Yes, I am." Seles said calmly. "Is that really too surprising to know after you found out that I was a Dark Knight?"

These was no legible response from either crusader; Seles sighed. "Well…that aside, after being ordained as the heir to the warriors, I was told of something called class fusion."

"What exactly is that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. There are divisions of the four base classes, as you well know. Warriors can become Crusaders, White Knights, or Dragon Knights. It would be a bad lookout if the leader of the warriors was only able to train spearmen…eh?"

A look of understanding spread over Ryden's face. "Oh, I see…"

"Yes. Wolfen, do you recall that question that you asked me some years ago?"

"Yes…"

"Well, now you're old enough to know the answer. As part of my intensive training to keep up with the responsibility of being the leader of the warriors, I was told to learn the arts of the crusaders and white knights. To make a very painful and tedious story short, I completed the training and went into exile for a little bit at Ossyria to become a Dark Knight." He cracked his knuckles. "So there you have it."

"What exactly did training in the arts of a crusader and white knight entail?"

"Too much to tell in one sitting." Seles said, standing up and brushing dust off his armor. "So now that I've told that story, you two can shut up now."

"Wait." Ark said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "You never did answer our original question. That explains how you became a Dark Knight and all that, but that still doesn't say how Marron gained the ability to fuse classes. Marron might have been your first student, but there's no way he could have done class fusion. He hasn't mastered a third release."

Seles froze. "Wolfen…You're sharp." he said, his mouth breaking into a grim smile.

"Explain it, Master." Ryden demanded. "How…was Marron able to do those things?"

For the first time ever, a look of something resembling sadness flashed in Seles' eyes. "Do you really want to know?"

"You asked us that about a hundred times already!" Ryden snapped impatiently. "Yes, we want to know!"

Seles opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. As Ark and Ryden watched in surprise, something flashed lightly in the corner of the Dark Knight's eye, and he blinked profusely, turning his face somewhat away from his students.

Keiga Seles, the Dark Knight and the legendary heir to the leadership of the warriors, was…crying.

"Aslan…" he whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "Forgive me…"

-----

"Strafe!"

A quartet of spectral lances flew from the bow and struck the ground neatly in a straight line. Not pausing to catch his breath, Zeraion dashed forward, his palm raised.

"Inferno!" he commanded, the ground exploding forcefully, sending chunks of ice and earth everywhere. Panting, he drew a line in the snow and fell to his knees.

"Still slow." He swore lightly and pounded his fist against the frozen ground.

_You're expecting too much from yourself._

"I don't care." Zeraion said, shouldering the Arund and returning to the fore of the range. "Did you see what Marron was able to do?" He raised the heavy bow and drew back the string again. "It looks like I still have a long way to go before I can think about facing off against Gault."

_You could have easily killed him. It was out of pity that you let him live._

"It wasn't pity!" Zeraion snapped, the arrow flying out of his hand at a wild angle. "Killing him would be exactly what Gault wants. That whole deal was just to cause internal discord. Now everyone's out for my blood…" He sighed, redrawing the string. "Arrow Rain!" A series of turquoise rays burst from the air and buried themselves in the ground. "He really thought this out through."

_So…what do you expect Isentryx is up to? I highly doubt he is idly watching you._

"Actually, he very well might be." Zeraion said, closing his eyes. "Strafe!" Four more arrows shot from his string and flew through the air; without pausing, he swept his hand down the string and plucked it, the resulting note cutting through the cold air. "Arrow Vanquisher!"

Several rounds of sky-blue, spectral flak materialized from the air and shot towards the ground, hitting the ground with vicious bursts of lightning.

_You've improved._

"Indeed. But not nearly enough." With an almost mechanical air, he raised the bow to his shoulder and took aim again. "Inferno…" Bolts of lightning and flame combined at the tips of his fingers, forming themselves into a great helical shaft. "Omega Crush Rain!"

The great bolt of energy flew from his hands with a loud screeching pulse and flew into the sky before returning to earth in several bolts of fiery lightning, torching the ground with several explosive retorts. Zeraion sighed darkly and raked a hand through his hair.

"String broke." he muttered, flinging away the ruined fibers and retying another strand of drake's gut around the tips of the Arund. "This is a mess…"

_You're being much too harsh on yourself. I myself would have been overjoyed to be able to use fusion artes with half as much mastery as yours._

The ranger only shrugged darkly and flexed the bowstring before loading another spectral arrow. A thoughtful look crossed his face, though, and he let the bow fall to his side. "Perhaps this would be a good time to try out that doppelganger thing that Athena talked about." He closed his eyes and concentrated the magic, setting his fingers together. "Puppet…Doppelganger!"

The air rippled for a moment before a figure popped out of thin air, with blonde hair, turquoise eyes, and a Pris robe, shouldering a spectral-colored Arund. Zeraion eyed the figure with a dark air. _So, this is the magic that Isentryx used in his destruction of the world…_

_Indeed._

"You don't waste words, do you?" Zeraion stared at his duplicate for another second before snapping his fingers, causing it to disappear. "The longer I idle here, the longer Gault has to hone his skills."

_You're definitely mature for your age._

"Athos, just shut up and let me train, alright?!" Phoenix made a rude hand gesture in the air. There was a ripple of something resembling frustrated amusement emanating from the ancient weapon; sighing, Phoenix raised his bow again. "Sorry. It's just that…I really have a great responsibility to bear now. You, of all people, should know that."

_Yes, I understand. I apologize._

Zeraion sighed once more before closing his eyes and focusing the magic in his fingers, causing the bowstring to ignite with spectral flame. He let the fire meld itself into a deadly projectile before releasing the magic. "Inferno!"

The bolt of flame leapt across the ground, creating a great cloud of steam as the snow melted underneath it. Without pausing as the unstable magic particles flowed up around him, he gathered the charged energy to his weapon for another attack. "Final…Attack!"

A vicious blast of white light erupted from Phoenix's body in the shape of a great dragon's head and ripped through the snow with even more devastating force; Zeraion fell to the ground and watched in stunned exhilaration as the destructive magic proceeded to annihilate several hundred feet of landscape. The snow ran crimson as blood leaked from scars in the downed ranger's arms.

"That…was amazing." he managed to utter out loud, his breath a frosty cloud in the cold air. "I never thought that using Final Attack with a third-class skill would be so…"

_Powerful?_

"Utterly destructive is more like it." He staggered painfully to his feet. "If only I could totally master this technique, I could destroy Gault in a heartbeat." He cast a dark glance at his arms. "I can't remember the last time I got one of these…"

"Neither can I." The tall figure of Rathias Gardner appeared on the field.

"Gardner!" Phoenix raised his eyebrows in surprise. "How long have you been-"

"Enough to know you've improved much since the first time we met." the bowmaster shrugged, folding his arms in a familiar manner and eyeing Phoenix strangely. "Am I to assume that that was the first time you performed a third release?"

"Y-yes." Zeraion stammered, slightly put out. "How did I…"

"One can only guess." Gardner's expression did not waver. "For one to use the third release without killing oneself is an extremely exceptional occurrence. Perhaps, it seems…that your abilities had been underestimated."

_Then, again, it's not really surprising, is it?…_

"Gardner!" A shout from the blonde-haired ranger brought the bowmaster to his senses. "Are you all right? You look like you passed out for a second…"

"No, I'm fine." Gardner quickly regained his composure. "I was merely thinking to myself." He took a deep breath and fixed his cobalt-blue eyes on Phoenix, his stare uncharacteristically gentle. "I find it amazing how you self-taught yourself in the arts of Final Attack. Everyone who attempted that technique by themselves has managed to commit suicide."

"That's reassuring." Phoenix shrugged and turned his gaze to the sky. "I really have to thank you for those swordsmanship lessons that you made me take while you were drunk…"

Gardner chose to ignore the dry comment. "Were they useful?"

"No." He shrugged listlessly.

"Your technique is good." His gaze became more serious. "But you need to refine it. Even after this large step forward, you still have a long way to go in the total mastery of this technique, which will be essential if you want to defeat Isentryx, considering he is about forty levels higher than you are."

Gardner expected a sharp retort from the ranger, but he was surprised to see Phoenix merely shrug and stare at the ground. "I know. I should meet Athena some time and ask her to train me some more…"

"She has her own matters to attend to at the moment." Gardner said, casting a glance around at the wreckage. "I think it best if I train you myself for a while."

"You?" Phoenix wrinkled his nose. "Sorry," he added, catching the look on the Bowmaster's face. "I forgot that you were a-" He stopped again. "Still, I…"

"Ah, yes." Gardner inclined his head. "You weren't there when I told my story…"

"What story?"

"It's not important at the moment. Ask your brothers or friends to tell you later." The bowmaster fixed a interested look on Phoenix. "Only two bowmasters reside in the world as of this moment, and you are standing next to one of them." He brushed some of his dark amber hair out of his eyes. "It is in your best interest- and the world's- that you train with me for the time being."

Zeraion stared up directly into Gardner's eyes for the first time. There was blue lightning dancing in the pupils of the great man, but underneath that, there was something Phoenix had never seen before.

Sincerity.

Rathias Gardner was really willing to train him; he could not deny the offer. Without hesitating, he gripped the bowmaster's outstretched hand.

The effect was instantaneous; it was as though a bolt of lightning shot through him at that exact moment. There was no pain, but the force of it was terrifying; he thought back to that traumatic moment when he had reached level 70 and was forcibly reminded of that experience. He suddenly realized that Gardner was capable of much greater power than he could have imagined in his wildest thoughts.

Phoenix let go of Gardner's hand and panted in exhaustion for a bit; he felt as though he had just climbed a huge mountain. The bowmaster merely said, "Get used to it, Zeraion. You'll need your strength in the days to come. Meet me at Sleepywood forest at six in the morning. Sharp."

Gardner turned and walked slowly away, leaving the still-dazed ranger in his wake. Zeraion's palm still tingled from the shock; he stuffed the hand in his pocket, fervently wishing the strange sensation would go away.

It was then that he looked up and noticed out of the corner of his eye that the corners of the bowmaster's lips were turned up in a rare smile.

He threw a glance at the smoldering wreckage of the landscape before sheathing his Arund and following after him into the mansion.

-----

"Where the _hell _is Blade?" one magician furiously snarled, trying to fill a hypodermic syringe. "He hasn't been around here much…We could really use some help administering the antiserum here…" The needle slipped and left a gash in his palm. "Son of a-"

"Easy." Another cleric appeared from the side and healed the wound. "Was that needle infectious?"

"No, it was clean." The wizard sighed and rolled up his sleeves. "Still…I wish we could use some gravity artes or something. It's really tiring to do all of this stuff by hand."

"You can ask Blade to whip up a gravity arte later if you want." the cleric shrugged. "He's a freaking prodigy around here…Did you hear, Grendel even considered making him the heir to the leader of the magicians."

The needle slipped again and left another bloody mark in the wizard's palm. "_What?!"_

"It's not surprising, you know." The cleric shrugged and began to fill more syringes. "He completed all of his coursework in advance, memorized Grendel's encyclopedia of magic theory, and actually used Heavenlapse without getting his head blown off."

"Holy…" THe wizard cast a glance at the rows of needles lining the cart. "He's not human…"

"Well, we can't all be perfect." The cleric shrugged disconsolately. "Alright, I think we've got them all filled. Have them distributed at once."

"Yeah." The wizard pushed the cart down the aisles of the medical ward, pausing by each of the wounded. Meanwhile, Grendel, passing by, stopped to talk to the cleric.

"Have you seen the Chief Medical Officer anywhere around?" he asked.

"No, sir." The cleric shrugged his shoulders. "He's been out of sight for about…four hours straight. We can only guess what he's doing…"

"Well, his plight is understandable." Grendel shrugged. "I put him in charge of whether or not to use a new healing arte that I devised with a 75 percent success rate."

"Well-" The cleric nearly knocked a nearby potted plant over. "You devised a spell with a three-quarters success rate? That's wonderful! Let's use it at once!"

"He's worried about the other 25 percent." Grendel sighed deeply. "Blade is the kind of person with very strong moral values, and he is under a lot of pressure right now. I would think it wise for you not to annoy him at the moment."

"But he's a head shorter than anyone in here…" The cleric shot a glance at the ceiling. "Except for you." he added, looking at the wizened archmage.

Grendel ignored the remark. "Yes. He is only fifteen, and yet he exhibits knowledge that far surpasses magicians twice his age." He sighed, staring straight ahead. "Rafael would have been proud…"

"Who?"

"Nothing." Grendel said quickly. "You go on with your nurse duty. I'll go check up on him and see what he's up to." The cleric nodded and walked away, as Grendel slowly floated past white-coated magicians passing by. He turned a corner into the nearby hall and glided over to a door.

"Chief Medical Officer?" he called, knocking on the door. There was no answer. "Blade? Ascion? Are you in there?"

Still no answer. Grendel tried the door, but found it locked with a nearly impregnable arte. The archmage frowned slightly and riffled through his mind, using a series of complicated counter-enchantments to dispel the lock. When it clicked, he swung the door open.

Ascion Blade lay face-down, draped over the desk, a quill still clutched in his limp right hand. For a second, Grendel was apprehensive, but immediately relaxed when he saw that Ascion was breathing; he had probably fallen asleep from exhaustion.

"You've overworked yourself." Grendel said shortly; Ascion made no answer. "Spending four hours locked up in this room over one decision…" Taking care not to disturb the sleeping priest, he slowly glided next to him and took a glance at the papers spread out on the desk.

A series of pieces of parchment were spread out in disarray over the table; with some surprise, Grendel recognized them as the papers he had written his theoretical equations on last night. Taking a glance over the papers, he saw that the original '75' he'd written in the corner of the page was crossed out, followed by several pages of heavily-annotated theorems and equations.

Grendel's gaze sharpened as he read the nearly-illegible formularies littering the parchment; finally, his line of sight dropped down to the final page, some of which was covered up by Ascion's limp arm. Carefully, Grendel moved aside the priest's arm and examined the page; Ascion had scribbled numerous equations into the bottom of the paper, followed by a single number crammed in the very corner of the page and circled several times.

"96..." He read the figure out loud, his voice resonating surprisingly loudly in the small room. For a precious second, the leader and renowned archmagus of Ellinia had absolutely nothing to say as he stared at the piece of parchment in his hand.

Slowly, Grendel's gaze shifted to the still-sleeping Ascion, the quill dangling in his grip. For the first time since the destruction of Ellinia, he smiled.

"It seems…" he murmured as he gathered up the pieces of paper that covered the desk, "…that the world shall be saved after all."

-----

"…Aslan?" both Ark and Ryden said uncertainly.

Seles blinked, realizing the depth of his slip. Quickly, he waved it away and said, "It's nothing."

"Who's Aslan?" Ark said slowly. "I've never heard of anyone with that name…"

"I said it was nothing!" Seles roared, losing his temper for the first time in front of his students. Both Ark and Ryden jumped as the Dark Knight shouted furiously at them.

"…My apologies." Seles calmed almost immediately. "It seems that there are still some past memories that I have not let go of yet…"

Ark looked as though he wanted to question Seles further, but he thought better of it and stayed quiet. However, Ryden mustered the courage to ask, "Master…who were you talking about?"

Seles did not look up, but instead murmured, "Aslan was my son…and my first student."

"I thought Marron was-" Ark started to say, but was cut off by a 'don't-push-it' look from Ryden. Instead, Ryden continued. "What…happened to Aslan?"

"He showed great promise when I first trained him." Seles said emotionlessly, his shadowed face still bowed to the ground. "At first, I intended to make him my heir, but…" Another tear dripped from his eye, where it was immediately sucked up by the thirsty ground. "It seems that the ability to use a third release eluded him. He…died trying to use the technique. I could not save him."

"I…see." Ryden said quietly. "So Marron…"

"Marron…was my second student." Seles said in the same placid tone. "The fact remained that I needed a heir. I told Marron of the dangers that would be involved if he chose to be my student, and I told him…of Aslan. He did not falter." Seles finally looked up. "So I accepted him as my heir and taught him class fusion under very controlled circumstances."

"Controlled…circumst-" Ryden paused in shock as an old memory crept into his mind.

"_Oh, shoot…Power Guard!" Dariel Marron roared, the jaws of a fire drake closing in on him. He beat it back with his Sparta, knocking out two of its teeth; he quickly hefted his blade and roared, "Spiral Slash Strike!" His attack tore a vicious circular gash through the beast as it collapsed._

"_Stop shouting that every time you kill one, Dariel." Ryden murmured. "You're starting to sound annoying."_

_"Shut up. You're just jealous because I made up a new fighting move and you didn't." _

"Spiral Slash Strike…" Ryden paused, his tongue slipping over the words. "No way…It was under our noses the whole time, and…"

"So that's how Marron…" Ark began, not finishing his sentence.

"Yes." Seles folded his arms. "This conversation is now over."

Neither Ark or Ryden dared to reply. The three sat in silence for a tense minute before Seles spoke again. "Be that as it may…since Marron made an attempt on Phoenix's life, that puts matters in a whole new perspective." He exhaled slowly and gazed seriously at Ryden. "It seems that I have no choice but to train you as the secondary heir to the leader of the warriors."

"You would do that?" Ryden said, not believing he had heard correctly. "You're really going to-"

"You are more than competent." Seles nodded slightly. "If need be, I believe you would make an excellent warrior and leader in times of need. However…this is a decision you must make for yourself; I am not going to undermine the dangers that you will have to endure if you choose this path." Ryden fell silent for a moment, considering Seles' words.

"What about me?" Ark cut in, his hand slipping to his axe.

Seles paused, biting his tongue as he considered how to answer the axe-crusader's question. Finally, he said, "Wolfen, believe me, you are one of the more superior students I've had, and you would definitely equal Ryden in a duel, but the reason I am choosing him over you has absolutely nothing to do with that." He took a deep breath before continuing. "You see, I knew Ryden's father at one time."

"You knew my father?" Ryden blinked. "I thought he-"

"Yes, I knew Dracon." Seles acknowledged with a slight nod. "He was an excellent warrior and a honorable man, and I am honored to have known him. Your father was about five or six years older than me, and became a crusader at the tender age of 15. After this, he made such progress that he quickly ascended through his levels faster than any other mortal. In fact, your father was the very first one to receive the gift of the dragons. He was the first Hero."

Ark gazed open-mouthed at Ryden as the latter returned his incredulous stare. "No…way…" he finally managed to stammer. "My father really…"

"Indeed." Seles nodded yet again. "Your father was like an older brother to me. I was immensely saddened when he died some time ago."

"How did my father die?" Ryden asked, clenching his fist. "Was he alive when I was born? How did he-"

Seles cut off Ryden's questions with a wave of his hand. "It is not my place to tell you, Ryden." he said shortly. "The circumstances concerning your father's death may hurt you. I do not wish to tell you any more than you need to know and cause you unneccessary pain."

"He was still my father." Ryden growled. "How would you feel if you knew nothing about your parents?"

That remark touched a hidden nerve; Seles froze for a few seconds, something resembling pain in his eyes, before fixing his glare on the crusader. "Are you really sure you want to know what happened to your father? It may not be what you want to hear."

"He was my father." Ryden repeated stubbornly. Seles chuckled lightly under his breath and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Stubborn as ever…Like father, like son, I suppose." Seles shrugged. "Well, seeing as how I plan to train you as the future leader of the warriors, you have a right to know."

Seles shifted to a more comfortable position on the ground and stared directly at Ryden. "Your father was a legend. He became the first one to master a third release and because of this, was immediately chosen by Sitting Bull as the heir to the leadership of the warriors. It was no contest; Dracon was equally skilled with the blade, axe, and spear, and planned to train as a White Knight and Dragon Knight as soon as possible."

"However…" Seles' gaze sharpened. "If your father had one fault, he was unfortunately stubborn. He refused to believe that the third release was the limit of his power. He argued that there theoretically existed a fourth release; somehow, that there existed the ability to channel the mana released through a fourth-class technique."

He sighed balefully. "Needless to say, the leaders of Victoria were much appalled by this decision and begged Dracon to reject his theory. They had already seen enough lives lost to pursuing the third release and did not wish to see someone with as much power and potential as your father needlessly throwing his life away over something so trivial, when his power was already so great."

A tense silence filled the air. "Dracon relentlessly pressed on for his experiment. This occurred about...seventeen years ago, I believe." Seles fixed his gaze on Ryden even deeper, so that his pupils were staring right into his students. "This was at about the same time that he met your mother."

"My mother?"

"Yes. A priestess by the name of Ceil." He shrugged. "Ceil was extremely devoted to her husband and like the wisemen of Victoria, she, too, begged him not to do it. He considered her words, but in the end, it was useless. He was determined to discover the fourth release."

Seles fell silent for a moment and did not speak until Ryden prompted him to. When he resumed his story, his voice had acquired a leaden tone. "Dracon consulted ancient texts about the theories of mana burn and the releases. He gauged himself, training relentlessly in Ossyria every day to make sure he was strong enough to use this technique; although he was devoted to the technique, he did not underestimate its cost. He trained every day until he deemed himself able to use the technique. This took well over a year and a half. During that time, you were born."

Ryden remained silent as Seles spoke. "When he felt himself ready to test the fourth release, he went to the snowfield. He considered going alone, but your mother decided to go with him in case anything went wrong. Because there was no one around to take care of you, she brought you with her. You were exactly one year old at the time."

There was a tense silence. "Dracon unleashed the technique and exactly as he had calculated, he began to harness the mana." His gaze faltered slightly and he looked once more to the ground. "However…he miscalculated the amount of mana that would be unleashed. It turned out to be too much, even for him. The great amount of mana unleashed produced an arcane reaction; in other words, the formation of a demon."

"Demon?"

"Demons are sentient beings fused to a soul." Seles replied. "We don't know much about them, but we do know that they are created when immense amounts of mana are harnessed through a soul. The soul is fused with the magic and this reaction causes the mana to essentially gain a mind of its own. It becomes a sentience. This sentience is a demon."

He glanced at the ground. "The demon quickly took control of Dracon's body. He struggled against it, but it was no use; the demon unleashed its primal rage and turned on your mother. All demons are born with an urge to kill; it is embedded in their nature. She managed to repel it with her holy abilities, but not for long. In desperation, your mother placed a holy barrier around you with the last of her mana. Then…she died."

Ryden did not speak, and Seles paused. "My sincerest apologies, Ryden. If it bothers you-"

"No, please continue." Ryden said, although his voice was deadpan.

Seles sighed, as if he could feel his student's sorrow, and continued. "The demon still had control of your father's body, and he then turned on you. Ceil's barrier could not sustain itself for long and it soon dissipated. The demon was about to deliver the final strike, but for a split second…when he saw his son, Dracon's will managed to overpower the demon for a precious moment."

"He realized the true folly of his mistake then, but it was too late." Seles' voice became lower. "With his final breath, he repented his sins for performing magic he should never have attempted and for your mother's life. Then…" Seles paused again, staring at Ryden's face. The hanging silence was painful.

"With the last of his energy, he thrust his own blade through his heart and killed himself, to save you."

"My father did…what?" Ryden gasped. "He committed suicide…to save me?"

"Yes." Seles nodded solemnly. "Later, I came upon the scene to try to dissuade your father, but…I was too late to save him. I returned your parents' bodies to Perion and then placed you under the care of a suitable foster family." He glanced up at Ryden, who was staring wordlessly at the ground.

"Ryden…" Seles paused as he searched for words to help his student, but there were simply none. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"I know you are." Ryden said, still not looking up. Ark wanted to say something to his teammate, but the words caught awkwardly in his throat and he let it drop.

There was a tense moment of silence among the three warriors. Finally, Ryden spoke.

"I aceept, Seles. There's no turning back now- I have to accept this responsibility, no matter the cost. I have to do it for my father."

He held out his hand, and Seles took it. "So be it, Ryden. Your father would have been proud."

Ryden lay back on the ground, staring up at the sky. He murmured something that began with the words "My father…" but it quickly faded into unintelligible muttering. Ark glanced uncertainly at him; Seles merely shook his head. "Leave him well alone, Wolfen. These are wounds that no salve can heal."

"I understand." Ark said, grinding a pebble underneath his palm. Seles sighed deeply. "Be that as it may, even though I have complete confidence in Ryden's abilities…there is no denying that you are an excellent fighter as well. If you like…I could train you as the tertiary heir."

"Really?" Ark's mood brightened somewhat. "You would really do that?"

"Of course I would." Seles managed a smile. "Your mother was also an excellent warrior, although she never quite had Dracon's potential." He sighed. "It was a pity she left you at such a young age."

"I accept." Ark said without hesitation, grabbing Seles' hand.

"Very good." Seles smiled. "Now…" He cast a glance at Ryden. "Could you please leave us alone? There is something I need to talk to Ryden about in private."

Ark sighed, then sheathed his axe and left the valley. Seles watched him leave, then turned to Ryden. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Ryden sat up, kneading the fine dirt of the ground in his fingers. "It's just…My father, he…"

"I understand." Seles laid a hand on Ryden's shoulder. "You have every right to feel the emotions that you are experiencing right now. However, before I leave you alone, there is something I have for you. You are in need of a weapon, correct?"

"Oh, right." Ryden said, remembering the previous encounter with Marron. "Yeah…"

"I have something for you." In answer, the Dark Knight drew a sword sheath from the depths of his cuirass. It was adorned with intricate jewels and designs and glittered a multitude of colors in the sunlight. "I had been waiting to give you this blade for a long time. It is time it was returned to your hands."

Ryden took the sheath and drew out the blade from within. Despite its richly-decorated sheath, the sword within had a simple brass hilt and a silver blade. Slightly dismayed, Ryden turned the sword over and in the sunlight, he saw a series of runes engraved onto the blade. The runes were shallowly engraved and would have been invisible if not for the flash of the reflecting sunlight.

He ran his fingers along the runes; on closer inspection, he could see that they were written in the human tongue, although they were carved so intricately that they easily passed for arcane. Slowly, he read the inscription on the blade.

"Alastor…?"

In answer, the sword seemed to flare up; Ryden resisted the urge to scream as an invisible force seemed to take ahold of his hands, pinning them to the blade. He felt the sword lift itself up in his hands as it glowed an eerie flame-red; for a brief moment, he could see the sword changing…the blade quickly grew larger and straighter; as Ryden watched in awe, the sword became a massive steel behemoth. The hilt grew into the shape of a dragon's maw, and the cross guard changed into a pair of great dragon wings. As Ryden watched, the blade began to crackle with cobalt-blue lightning, sending shivers of power through his arms.

_Come to me, Ryden…my son…_

Then it was all over, and Ryden found himself lying on the ground with the simple katana in his hand.

"What the…" Ryden staggered to his feet. "That was-"

"It seems that Alastor likes you." Seles said casually, as though he and Ryden were having a discussion about a tame pet. "I should let you know that this was the very same katana your father used to carry."

"You mean…this was the same weapon that my father killed himself with?" Ryden said slowly.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly…" Seles sighed. "You should also know that Alastor was the name of the demon that took over your father's body. When Dracon stabbed himself, this produced another arcane reaction. I don't know exactly what happened, but my best guess is that your father's soul and Alastor merged to some degree. Your father's blood and spirit still resides inside that sword, but Alastor continues to lurk in the shadows of the blade."

"I…" Ryden glanced at the katana in his hand. "So this is all that remains of my father?"

"To some point, yes." Seles glanced at the sword. "If you wish to become the heir to the warriors, you must learn to control the power of this blade. Alastor is a fearsome demon and will likely be vengeful, but demons carry great mana potential. If you can learn to control Alastor, I doubt there will be any foe that can stand in your path."

"What can I do to…control him?" Ryden asked.

"You do not need to worry yourself. There are two identities sealed in this blade; your father and the demon. If need be, the sword will respond to your emotions and trigger the power of Dracon, thus transforming it into its greatsword counterpart. For simplicity's sake, I will refer to this ability as Dragon Trigger. However, if your emotional output is too great, then Alastor's dark influence will appear and activate another ability known as Devil Trigger; but as long as the spirit of your father resides in the sword, you need not fear greatly for your safety." He cracked his knuckles. "Under my guidance, you will learn to call upon Dragon Trigger and master its abilities, but also to control the Devil Trigger and use it…if need be."

"I…see."

"You should acquaint yourself with the blade tonight and get a feel for it, so to speak. Tomorrow, meet me at precisely six in the morning, in Sleepywood forest, and I shall train you in the finer arts of the warrior."

"All right." Ryden sheathed the sword and both warriors turned away from each other to leave. Before either had taken more than a few steps, Seles paused. "Oh, and Ryden…one more thing. I almost forgot."

"Yes?" Ryden hurried over to the Dark Knight's side. In answer, he drew a small pendant from his cuirass.

"This…was your mother's." he said in a gentle tone, pressing the locket into his student's hand. Ryden opened it to see a picture of a man, with silver hair and blue eyes, a great sword with a hilt shaped like a dragon's maw over his shoulder. At his side was a woman dressed in magician's clothing and holding a blanketed child in her arms.

"Is this…me?" Ryden gingerly asked.

"Yes." Seles nodded. "I think you should keep it. It belongs to you now."

"Thank you." Ryden stood there, looking at the necklace and solemnly examining the picture. Seles watched him for a minute before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing across the bare earth.

Ryden turned to watch the Dark Knight leave, then suddenly turned around and called, "Wait!"

Seles paused. "Yes, Ryden?"

"I just…" He stopped for a minute, the words sticking in his throat. "Thanks…for everything you've done. For saving me and training me. You're like a second father to me."

Keiga Seles wanted to smile and thank the young swordsman; he really did. And yet, the inner guilt inside him weighed upon his heart like a gigantic weight.

Ultimately, Seles realized that the fault was his. Deep inside, he knew it was his fault that Aslan was gone from the earth, his fault that he couldn't have arrived in time to save Dracon, his fault that Marron had deserted him and turned against the destiny he'd sought to build for him, and Ryden had no way of knowing this. He would not have made a good father.

The Dark Knight stared down at his useless left arm, hanging at his side, supported only through a frail enchantment.

Everything he touched ended up broken…

-----

The mood in the council room in Sleepywood was somewhat dismal, as usual; but then again, they had no reason not to be since the destruction wreaked by Phoenix/Isentryx, depending on how one looked at it. Athena and Sitting Bull sat opposite each other, although not in the same foul mood that they had been in the last time they were in this room. Grendel and Dark Lord stood off to the side.

The atmosphere seemed very dry and it was some time before someone, Grendel, spoke. "Have you informed Gardner and Seles of this meeting yet?"

"I don't wish to trouble them." Athena said, her misty eyes not betraying any emotion. "They most likely have their own matters to deal with at the moment."

"That being the case, this meeting could impact the future of Victoria Island and the rest of the world," Grendel continued in a matter-of-fact tone, "so I believe their presence would be beneficial."

"There's no need." Sitting Bull waved the matter away. "I sent a message to both of them some time ago. They should be arriving some time soon."

Sure enough, as if on cue, Rathias Gardner appeared through the door, his long amber hair drifting in the wind. He sheathed his Shinebow and bowed quickly to the four leaders before taking a seat.

"Good evening, Rathias." Athena said, pursing her hands together.

"The same to you." He nodded. "My apologies for being late. I was spending some time with Zeraion Phoenix." He ran his fingers along the table thoughtfully. "He shows great promise in his training. His mana potential and control is excellent and his bow mastery is at a high level. He has even taken the time to self-teach himself fusion artes."

There was a dark air around the table; Gardner merely returned the dismal stares with a point-blank glare from his own eyes. "Yes, I know."

"His resemblance to Isentryx is surprising." Dark Lord gave a noncommital shrug.

"Indeed. I confronted Isentryx some time ago in the Sanctuary." Gardner lay back in his chair. "I defeated him without too much trouble. Even though he has added necromancy to his repertoire, he still suffers from overconfidence."

"Then why the hell didn't you kill him?" Sitting Bull snapped, pounding the table.

Gardner shot the leader of the warriors a dark stare before responding, "You don't know what it's like to have a student, do you?"

"That aside," Athena cut in, "I fear that a direct attack by Isentryx is soon to be expected. Our cities and population are in disarray. We can't possibly stand a chance if we remain unorganized."

"The remnants of the cities as they are now are not safe." Dark Lord said in his emotionless, placid tone. "We must evacuate the citizens as soon as possible to a safe location."

"Define 'safe location'." Grendel folded his arms.

"I would suggest Henesys." Gardner replied. "It's the only major town that hasn't been totally destroyed, not to mention that Gault would never think of destroying the place…as demented as he is." he added, with a slight frown.

"Our troops are unprepared." Sitting Bull said flatly. "We have lost a substantial number of fighters in the previous destruction. Even if we manage to evacuate the cities and scrape together an army, it'll still be hell to go through what Isentryx can throw at us."

"Indeed." Gardner nodded. "He has the ancient demonic creatures of the Sanctuary under his control. Not to mention that with soul transmutation…" He sighed. "This could easily spell doom for us."

"Which is why you two-" Athena cast a glance at Grendel and Dark Lord. "-must find a suitable heir immediately in case you are…incapacitated."

Grendel shrugged. "I have it all planned out, Athena. You need not fear."

Athena then turned to Dark Lord. "And you?"

The mysterious leader of the thieves merely shrugged. "I don't need an heir at the moment."

"Don't be foolish." she retorted. "You may be the leader of the thieves, but you are not immortal."

"Perhaps." He stretched out his hands and cracked his knuckles. "Be that as it may, even if I were to adopt a heir- not that I am- the individual would have to be exceedingly skilled in alchemy, and most of the idiots out there are either brainlessly throwing stars or brandishing daggers…" He let out a sigh. "There is no respect for the ancient arts of the rogue."

"What about the Stalrigarde family?" Athena asked. "They were always masters of alchemy. You could select one of them to be your heir."

"Unlikely. The Stalrigarde family were also notorious for their incestuous affairs in order to keep their bloodline pure." Dark Lord sniffed the air disdainfully. "The last pure-blooded member of the family, Valter Stalrigarde, was the first to marry outside of his family. He died soon after traveling to Zakum Altar, so I doubt he or his children would be of any help."

"Valter Stalrigarde had two children." Athena said, not faltering. "An older daughter, Rinalde, and a younger son, Joseph. Why not-"

"Rinalde is the heiress to her family's fortune." Dark Lord replied calmly, now twirling a sharp kunai knife around his finger at high velocity. "She spends more time looking for a prospective husband than bothering with alchemic artes." He flung the knife into the air and caught it on the tip of his finger. "And Joseph detested his father. I doubt he would be keen to follow in his footsteps."

"Perhaps…" Gardner cut in. "However, I can't deny that young Stalrigarde is indeed an expert in his field, whether he wants to be or not. Have you seen what the lad can do with his fingers?" He gave a catlike whistle. "You should see him perform surgery some time…"

Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. "What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing. I'm just saying that you shouldn't let good talent go to waste." Gardner lay back in his chair once more.

The thief leader looked as though he was about to spit back a venomous reply, but was interrupted by the arrival of a sullen-faced, auburn-haired Dark Knight. "Good evening. My apologies for being late." Seles bowed slightly and took a seat next to Gardner. "I was meditating in the valley and lost track of time."

Gardner caught the look on his friend's face. "Keiga, was this about Aslan?"

"No!" Seles snapped. "Well…perhaps." He exhaled deeply. "If you must know, I told Ryden about Alastor. It evoked some painful memories."

"I understand." Gardner said gently. "Don't think you are the only one here who knows the pain of losing a son."

Seles only looked gloomier than ever. Keen to change the topic, Gardner resumed the topic. "So, what are we going to do in regards to Isentryx?"

"At the very least, we can establish Henesys as a safe haven." Athena took a quill and a scrap of parchment and began to scribble on it. "Also, we must gather together a force of rapid-reaction troops in case of an attack." She slid the piece of paper over to Gardner. He glanced down at it; it was a map of Victoria Island, with the lands around Henesys circled in ink.

"Elaesia…" Gardner read the word off the paper. "You're going to start your own country?"

"Only for the moment." Athena replied sharply. "The formation of Elaesia is only a measure in resisting Isentryx. After he is defeated, the towns will be rebuilt. Right now, our main concern is creating the base of our operations."

"The name is certainly apt." Seles sighed. "Elaesia was the name of this land when it was one with Ossyria. Now…the fragments of our classes must band together to resist this evil."

"Well, I don't think there's much else to discuss." Athena said briskly, folding up the paper. "Gardner, Seles, you two may leave. We will set to work at once creating a renegade band of fighters."

The Bowmaster and Dark Knight nodded, then left the room.

-----

The moon was high over the grounds of Henesys. Green slimes and mushrooms bounced along the beaten paths, freely continuing on with their existence. Snow still shimmered over the landscape, and it lent an almost mystical air to the atmosphere.

Traphes Igzarion darkly stared out at the snow on the grounds of The Resistance. He had never liked the snow as a youth. To him, the snow represented the cold, unfeeling tragedy that he had endured as a child.

He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair, the raven color of his locks blending in with the darkness that hung about his room. He had always been plagued by constant depression; probably stemmed from family troubles as a child, he thought. Actually, family troubles didn't even begin to describe it; anyone could have written a whole book on the events and tragedies of the raven-haired ranger.

In a way, it was ironic. He had never wanted to become a ranger in the first place; if he could just have his way, then all would be well and he could easily be a carefree chief bandit, living off the great world and its pleasures. Instead, here he was, just a moody, drunk, young man who had never really been understood throughout his life.

Slowly, he shook his head. No, he wasn't completely misunderstood. It hadn't always been like this. He had had a father, a mother, two sisters, just like a normal, totally non-dysfunctional family. At times like this, he truly wanted to explode. He wanted to cry out to the skies why, exactly, of all the people in the world, should he have to bear the horrors and responsibility of such a life. How could it all have ended up like this for him?

He took his Black Metus from his quiver and stroked it with a mixture of love and hate. On one hand, this bow had been everything to him; he'd found it lying behind a stray stone at Zakum Altar years ago, it seemed, even though it had only been two. Without the power of this great, demonic weapon, he was nothing.

But on the other hand, the Metus represented and embodied everything he hated. In actuality, he despised the arts of the bowman. He had never been interested in them and probably never would have; he was so much more fascinated in the shadow artes of the thieves and rogues. He wanted to do alchemy and summon real-life shadow doppelgangers, not just…straw puppets! He rumpled his hair in frustration.

Slowly, he trudged downstairs, listlessly sliding himself into a chair. Rysdale Tales and Natalia Arundale were also sitting silently at the table, not uttering a word.

He remembered Arundale's words. _Iggy, listen to me. None of this is your fault. No one would choose such a fate as yours. Don't do this to yourself._

He sucked in his breath. Natalia was really the only one who had cared for him; ever since the infamous 'incident', she had been the only one who had shown him pity and kindness. In the end, that was because she was the only one to have seen what had really happened.

No one, not even his friends, honestly trusted him. He remembered his encounter with Zeraion Phoenix some years ago. The first time he had seen him, he had really despised him. As far as he was concerned, Zeraion was weak- a simple nobody who didn't deserve to be there in the first place. Then again, he had been viciously taunted and humbled by Phoenix and those brats and it was all he could do to stop from killing them all right then and there.

But it wasn't really surprising. Phoenix didn't understand him and he never would. He would never understand the sorrows that flowed through his veins. To think of it, Zeraion Phoenix probably didn't know the meaning of sorrow. He had had a nice life, a nice, caring mother and father, and after that, two brothers who he could look up to and share companionship with.

He, Iggy, the demon child, had no one, save possibly for the exception of Arundale, who was like a sister to him. He loved her- not in the kind of male/female lust sense, but rather as an affectionate brother-sister bond, and in the end, he knew he would do anything to protect her, even if it meant taking his own life.

Then again, he couldn't possibly blame Phoenix. That night when Zeraion had arrived with the bloodied body of Grace in his arms, it was the first time he had seen tears cascade down his cheeks. And suddenly, he realized, that he didn't have a right to hate Phoenix. He had lost someone he truly loved; Iggy, though the loveless orphan he was, never had had a close relationship with his family in the first place. Phoenix never really harbored a grudge against him; not really. Phoenix could like someone and be friendly to them, and he couldn't.

Yes, that was the difference between him and the others; despite the fact that he had lost his entire family that fateful night, he had never really loved them as he should have, until it was too late. All of them; Phoenix, Rysdale, Natalia, and Delinia, they had suffered the loss of their family members as well, but the key difference between them and him was that they had lost ones that they had truly loved.

_I do love them, _he nudged himself stubbornly, but it was no use. Of course he had cried when they had died, but in the end, the gaping hollow that should have been present in him simply wasn't there. He could lie to others about his true nature as much as he wanted, but that simply wouldn't work here. He was far too intelligent to fool himself.

What made it even worse was that they were his friends; well, excepting Phoenix, at least, since he hadn't known the blonde-haired ranger for more than a couple of years. But the rest of them, Tales, Arundale, and Arklanser, he had every right to hate himself for that. They were his true friends, they who stood behind him when the entire town of Henesys had more or less turned on him. They had to suffer for him, and he had more or less repaid them with callous indifference.

_I won't be like that, _he promised himself, but once more it was no use. His own childhood trauma had more or less reduced him to what he essentially was; a shell in a human body. He had shown little or no emotion at all and it wasn't too far to say that he had lost his soul.

This was what he had failed to realize until now, and he regretted it sorely; all he wanted to do, all they wanted him to do, even Phoenix, was to just be a friend, be the cool and laid-back Iggy that they missed. But now, it was too late.

He glanced up. The amber-haired sniper paused to eye him. "Everything all right, Iggy?" he asked with a teasing face.

"Shut up." he sighed, laying his head back upon the table. He had never really liked Tales; out of all of them, he would have been rather glad to rid himself of the sarcastic and dry crossbowman. Good old Rysdale, always ready with a spur-of-the-moment insult or off-color remark to pep them all up. Unlike himself, Tales actually had had someone to take care of him and love him. Even after losing his parents, he could still be fairly cheerful and optimistic, and that was why Igzarion had on more than one occasion had the urge to make him jump off a tall building without a bungee cord.

But then, after Laura, his sister, had died…it was the first time that he, or anyone else for that matter, had actually seen Rysdale look…well, depressed. He never thought that he would ever apply this term to the sniper; it seemed as though the smile behind those glasses, whether dry or genuine, would never fade. He had lost the one person he had cared for, and although he eventually went back to his usual dry cheerfulness, there was an insincerity behind those lenses and that smile for the first time in years.

He knew that the sniper would rather have died than admitted it, but he needed friendship; and unfortunately, he couldn't offer his friend solace, even though Tales had invariably comforted him some years ago. The burden of that had ultimately fallen on Phoenix.

That was one of the things he suddenly realized about Zeraion Phoenix; he could always see the good in people, no matter how dry or sarcastic they might seem, and open up to them. Phoenix had seen in Tales what Igzarion himself had failed to see, even after all these years with the sniper. That was what Phoenix had and that he could never have.

Trust.

Phoenix hadn't been the weakling all this time, it had been him, Iggy, who had been unable to open up and trust another…

He sorely wanted to look at Tales and tell him sincerely that he was sorry for him, but the words stuck in his throat. Both Tales and Arundale looked at him; he turned away from them, ashamed at himself and yet unable to tell them what he truly felt.

Frowning, Igzarion put a hand to his temples; his head suddenly felt hot, as though there was a pressure building up inside. Slightly annoyed, he felt an irritating tickling sensation in his eyes and he reached up to rub them.

_How strange…_he thought, as his fingers came away slightly wet.

_I'm crying…_

-----

The forest of Sleepywood was dark and forbidding- not any place for a picnic. Monsters flitted about the shadows of the trees, ready to leap out at any unwary traveler who dared to cross their paths. The gigantic trees grew even more densely than the great forest of Ellinia, blocking all but the smallest rays of light from the sky overhead.

"Six o' clock, he said." A raven-haired crusader made his way angrily through the forest. "It doesn't help that he didn't say exactly where in Sleepywood…This forest is huge." A Curse Eye leapt out at him from behind a nearby bush. Faster than the eye could see, he drew a silver katana from the sheath on his back, and neatly cleaved it in half. He wiped the blade on a large leaf before sheathing it and walking on.

Meanwhile, a few hundred feet away, a blonde-haired ranger was also struggling through the forest. "Gardner, couldn't you at least have given me a freaking map?!" He brushed aside an overhanging clump of leaves and branches only to see a Zombie Lupin angrily hurl itself at him, screeching. Swiftly, he raised his arm and snapped his fingers. "Inferno!" The Lupin exploded in midair, scattering ashes everywhere. The ranger shook his head slightly before walking onwards.

The ranger and crusader were walking directly towards each other without paying attention to their paths; in classic misfortune sequence, they crashed into each other.

"Ow! Why, you-" The crusader drew his sword but recognized the face. "Phoenix? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Exactly what I wanted to ask you." Zeraion replied, cocking a questioning glance towards the swordsman.

"Oh, just a little…training." Ryden shrugged. "You?"

"Same here." Zeraion unsheathed his bow. "It is six o'clock, right?"

"Yes…Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Whatever." Zeraion and Ryden turned away from each other.

However, there was a shout of "There you are!" from the side. Both ranger and crusader turned to see the tall figure of Keiga Seles walking towards them.

"I've been searching for you for ages…" Seles brushed some of his hair out of his face. "You can't just go running around Sleepywood forest, you know. It's not a very friendly place."

Ryden scowled, but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of Rathias Gardner on the scene. "Ah, Phoenix, there you are. I would have thought you would have given me a map." Phoenix blanched.

"Rathias, what are you doing here?" Seles asked.

"Exactly what I wanted to ask you, Keiga." Gardner shrugged.

Both Ryden and Zeraion rolled their eyes. "Can you please get on with it?"

"Am I to assume that you're here to begin Ryden's training as the secondary heir to the leader of the warriors?" Gardner asked.

"Yes, and the same to you with Phoenix?"

"Exactly." The bowmaster glanced around him. "This isn't going to work. We need more room around to maneuver."

"I'll take care of it." Seles drew his Fairfrozen and plunged it into the ground. "Dragon Roar!"

Zeraion and Ryden leapt out of the way as lavender waves of energy burst from the ground, leveling several trees and clearing a wide space about a thousand feet in diameter. "That's much better." he sighed, twirling the gigantic pike of ice. "Ryden, do you remember what I told you about Dragon Trigger?"

"Yes…"

Seles looked at Gardner. "Rathias, did you mention to Phoenix his draconic abilities?"

"Ah, yes. I was about to." Gardner then looked at Phoenix. "The Abyssal Arund is a spiritual weapon. Spiritual weapons are rarities in this world; they are spirits and/or demons that have been sealed by an enchantment into a weapon. Spiritual weapons, as I'm sure you know by now, are much more powerful than their material counterparts, but they require a lot of mana potential to unlock their full potential. Our job as your instructors is to teach you how to gain the full potential of your weapons."

"The best way to do this would be to simulate a real combat situation." Seles motioned to Ryden. "You and Zeraion will fight right here and now. You will activate Dragon Trigger and Zeraion will summon the power of Athos. I don't want you bothering with Alastor at the moment. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Ryden nodded, before drawing his blade and pointing it at Phoenix. "Get ready, Zer…"

"This is only your first time using Dragon Trigger, Ryden." Seles chided. "Don't get overconfident…"

"Whatever." Ryden growled, before bringing his sword up in an attack stance. "I won't hold back on you this time."

"I won't either." Zeraion replied, before drawing and stringing his bow.

"Let's go! Power Strike!" Ryden roared, charging at Zeraion, his katana raised.

"Power Knock-Back!" Zeraion countered, bringing the limbs of his bow up to guard. The material of the bow held up well against the impact of the sword. Undaunted, Ryden charged again, delivering a flurry of blows to the bowman. He noticed that even though the blade was much stronger than his previous weapon, it felt extremely light, about half as heavy as his previous sword. Nevertheless, Zeraion managed to parry all the blows as Ryden watched with some amusement.

"You've been working out a lot since our first training session, haven't you?" Ryden nodded, clearly impressed against his will.

"I try." Zeraion threw his head back and closed his eyes before firing a quartet of arrows at Ryden. Without pausing, Ryden saw the arrows move towards him; it was as though everything was in slow motion. Swiftly, he brought his katana up to defend, neatly slicing through the arrows as they neared him. Zeraion's eyes opened in surprise for a brief moment before he raised a palm and roared, "Inferno!"

Ryden had a moment's warning before the ground underneath him exploded forcefully; he swiftly raised his katana and roared, "Power Guard!" Several large chunks of rock and flame soared at him only to be reflected by his guard. He ran his hand along the length of the silver blade, glinting in the rising sun. "Combo Attack!" Blue globes of light began to circle around Ryden, illuminating his blade; he then dashed forward, ready to attack. "Panic!"

The force of the attack sent Zeraion skidding along the ground. He looked up in time to see Ryden charging at him again and swiftly rolled out of the way, causing Ryden to cleave a tree in half instead. Phoenix raised his bow and roared "Inferno!"

Bolts of flame burst from his palms and flung themselves at Ryden only to be stopped by the crusader's guard; however, without pausing, he flicked the bowstring again and roared, "Final Attack!"

The force of the blast leveled several trees and sent Ryden flying into the air. He landed on his feet squarely to see another bolt of flame hurtling towards him at high velocity. _Shoot! _He sprung to his feet, expecting to get hit by the fire soon.

Only to safely sprint through the air as the firebolt exploded behind him. _What the…_ Ryden blinked as he stared at the path his feet had trailed along the grass; it was as though he had jumped fifty feet in a split second. _How did I…_

He could feel the sword thrumming in his hands. _Use my power, Ryden…_

Then he understood; gripping the blade firmly in both hands, he dashed at Zeraion, swiftly dodging arrows and changing directions as he went. As he was about to attack, he leapt high into the air, and as Zeraion watched dumbfoundedly, grabbed ahold of a tree and launched himself off in a gravity-defying display. With a primal shout, Ryden threw himself at the bowman, his blade ready to deal some serious damage.

The ranger swiftly brought his bow up to defend against the incoming assault, but Ryden wasn't done yet; calling upon more energy from his sword, he leaped into the air and seemed to vanish.

"What the-" Zeraion frantically craned around for the crusader, but to no avail.

Then Ryden appeared from thin air behind Zeraion, as though he had teleported. He barely had time to register the swordsman's presence before Ryden dealt a vicious slash to his back, leaving a huge, bloody gash the length of his spine.

Zeraion staggered, blood dripping from the great wound, and turned to stare at Ryden with a strange look, his eyes glazed over. For a moment, Ryden thought he might have done some serious damage, but he suddenly saw the spectral bow glow with a faint golden aura.

Suddenly, great wings erupted from Zeraion's back as he let out a shout of pain. As Ryden watched in awe, the grievous wound on his back began to heal itself, the flesh knitting itself back together. Phoenix continued to writhe in pain, his great spectral wings folding around his body, his hair becoming longer, his armor changing…even his physique was changing. He looked taller, like the man he was going to become rather than the boy he was.

Ryden saw all of this with a gasp as he realized who he was staring at.

This was the same Zeraion Phoenix that had destroyed Perion.

Phoenix- Ryden wasn't even sure what to call the entity in front of him- raised his hand, and in a defiant and commanding tone, roared, "Thunder Spear!" A shaft of concentrated white lightning formed at his palm, nearly blinding Ryden with its brightness. Zeraion charged forward, the spear raised.

Ryden swung his sword upwards to guard against the incoming assault. There was a massive flash and a shower of sparks as the weapons impacted against each other. Undaunted, Zeraion twirled the arcane weapon in his arms before dealing an uppercut slash which Ryden could barely dodge. He then swung the spear about for the third time and slammed Ryden in the side with it. Pain shot through the crusader's body as he crumpled to the ground. Zeraion expertly holstered the weapon, pointing it at the warrior. Ryden stared upwards in disbelief. _No way…It's like I'm fighting a Dragon Knight…no, a Dark Knight, even…How could he gain so much mastery from his transformation?_

Phoenix raised his spear and thrust it into the ground, commanding, "Astatos!" A burst of blue-white lightning exploded from the ground, sending Ryden flying into the air. He hit a tree with a painful thud and slid down it, leaving a bloody mark on the bark. Ryden swore as he held his blade up. _I need to use Dragon Trigger now, or else I'm done for…_He fingered the runes on his sword.

"Dracon…!" Ryden called out his father's name as he held up his sword.

The runes on Dracon's blade began to glow with an eerie white light. Once more, Ryden felt power flowing into the weapon as it began to crackle with blue electricity. Phoenix watched as he saw Ryden transform, the ancient power suffusing him. The sword began to change, its blade growing broader and longer; the hilt and the cross guard changed into dragon replicas as well. Ryden's hair began to change into a shade of iridescent silver, his eyes turning an electrifying cobalt-blue, spectral dragon wings growing from his back as well.

_Ryden…my son…_

Ryden stared straight ahead, the true form of his father's sword clutched in his hands.

He _was _his father.

Fired by that knowledge and a desire to test his new abilities, he charged forward at Phoenix, raising the great sword and bringing it down. There was a sound like an explosion as the two weapons met. Phoenix delivered a volley of spear strikes only to have them all blocked easily. Ryden suddenly realized that his transformation now granted him equal footing with Phoenix.

Phoenix charged forward with the huge spear, lightning gathering at its tip, and stabbed forward. Ryden's sharp eyes gauged the attack; at the instant that the attack was about to make contact, Ryden raised his great sword and roared, "Just Release!"

The force of Ryden's counter sent Phoenix flying backwards, crashing through several trees before gliding back to face Ryden. Phoenix flicked his wrist, causing the spear to disappear for the moment, then raised his bow. "Dragon Pulse!"

Bolts of lightning flashed around the ranger as Phoenix made his attack; Ryden raised his sword up to guard, but the attack still had enough force to send him crashing through several feet of forest. Yet, as Phoenix released the attack, he felt exhaustion surge through his veins and he staggered to the ground.

_Dragon child, listen to me. You don't have enough mana in your body to sustain fourth-class abilities. You can only do so through me. If you want to win this battle, you must allow me to take full control._

"You promise you won't screw this up?" Phoenix growled out of the corner of his mouth.

There was a shadow of dry amusement in the spirit's tone. _Yes, Zeraion. I promise._

"Well, you finally not calling me 'dragon child' is a first." Phoenix snarled.

Ryden charged forward in time to see Zeraion writhing on the ground, his wings growing larger and the aura surrounding him becoming brighter. _He must be going deeper into his transformation._ Running a hand across his sword, he commanded once more, "Dracon!"

He felt more power flow into him as his father's spirit sufused him; yet, as he called out his father's name, he realized he was losing control of his body. The more power he called upon, the less ability he had to move on his own. _So this is what Seles meant when he said I had to control the spirit within this sword. _

Swiftly, Ryden unfolded his wings and raised his sword, blue energy flowing about the blade. "Stinger!" He thrust forward at supersonic speed, moving so fast that the wind he generated easily blew down trees, his blade poised for an extremely vicious stab attack.

Time seemed to slow in those last few seconds as Zeraion raised his hand to his bow, gauging Ryden's movement. As Ryden was about to near him, he flicked the string and roared, "Hurricane!"

The two attacks collided furiously with each other as Ryden furiously struggled against the coming onslaught of wind blades, his armor and skin slowly cracking and ripping against the tempest. At the same time, Zeraion struggled to maintain the wind energy as the massive amount of mana radiating from Ryden's sword seared his body. Their gazes locked in a furious stare as each struggled to overpower the other.

With a thunderous explosion, neither combatant could sustain the magic any longer, and the resulting impact created a blinding flash of destructive light. Both Zeraion and Ryden struggled against the outburst of magical energy, but it was of little use.

Slowly, both fighters drifted to the ground, unconscious, as Gardner and Seles rushed up to them. The destruction was immense; a large section of forest about half a mile in diameter had been cleared away by the ensuing battle.

"Do you think that was a bit too much?" Seles asked.

Gardner checked Zeraion and Ryden for a pulse. "They're still alive. That's all that matters." He sighed. "I honestly didn't expect them to draw upon such a large percentage of their spiritual energy, however." He sucked in his breath. "It seems that competition brings out the best in these two."

"For his father's sake…" Seles sighed. "I hope Ryden survives."

"Yes." Gardner stood up solemnly. "I wish the same for Phoenix as well." He raised a hand and commanded, "Fire Phoenix!" The great feral bird slowly drifted to the ground as Gardner and Seles climbed on it, carrying Zeraion and Ryden. Slowly, the great bird soared into the air towards Henesys.

-----

Athena Pierce raked a hand across her sweaty forehead. For several hours straight, she had done nothing except organize people and oversee matters; for the first time, she was beginning to get a sense of what true leadership really meant; the other three wisemen encouraged her, but did little to help her. She suspected it was because of her relationship with Gault that they treated her like this, but in the end, she couldn't really blame them. Most of the responsibility of stopping Gault, after all, did fall on her shoulders.

_And Phoenix's as well, _she chided herself. She sighed and forced herself to think straight; Gault probably kept tabs on their activities and might know of their attempts to mobilize an army even now. Thanks to a specialized healing arte devised by Chief Officer Blade of the Ellinia Medical Corps, a large percentage of the seriously wounded had been restored, with almost miraculous effects. Once Athena and the other three leaders had called a council meeting and explained the situation, they quickly assembled themselves for battle. It was true that many of them still harbored a grudge against Phoenix; she couldn't blame them. But for now, the true threat lay looming on the horizon.

"How do you expect to defend our territory without any suitable leaders?" someone asked disdainfully. Athena turned to see Sitting Bull with his arms folded across his large sword.

"If you so desire, I will lead them." Athena said in a curt tone.

"It would be foolish for any one of us to do direct battle."

"Does it look like we have a choice?" she replied, unsheathing her Shinebow and stringing it. Sitting Bull merely looked contemptuous, but responded, "If that is what you so desire, then I will accompany you. Leave Grendel and the Dark Lord here for now."

"You speak as though Isentryx is already within sight." she murmured, tossing her copper-colored tressed behind her back.

"Perhaps he is." The leader of the warriors motioned for Athena to come outside. Her eyes met an unbelievable sight.

Gault Isentryx was standing in front of her, flanked by what seemed like hundreds of Tauros and mysterious shadowy figures, and several dozen Crimson Balrogs. He was dressed in gold-lined black armor and wore a helm upon his head that bore resemblance to a dragon's head, his silver-colored Shinebow clutched in his fist. As Athena looked upon him, she realized that he no longer bore any resemblance to the student she once trained.

"My goddess…" Athena walked up to him. "Gault, what have they done to you?" Unbelievably, there was still a tone of affection in her voice.

"_This isn't the time for personal questions, Athena." _Gault said, his demonic voice scraping against her ears. "_I've merely come to ask kindly that you surrender the territory of Elaesia to me. Accept and you and your people shall go free. Deny and you shall be slaughtered."_

"Does it really matter, Gault?" Athena said, tears in her eyes. "You're not the student that I once knew. Gardner always said that he knew there was still good in you. What do you hope to accomplish by killing thousands of innocents?"

It looked like Gault was swallowing a piece of hot charcoal as he heard the name. "_I despise Rathias Gardner, my former instructor. Out of all people on this earth, I consider him the only one who can defeat me…but it is no matter. My powers shall serve me well." _His soulless gaze flickered to Athena. "_Now, answer my question. Will you surrender or not?"_

Athena took a deep breath. Behind her, she heard Sitting Bull call out for the troops, and about a thousand troops lined up behind her, their weapons drawn.

She blinked a tear away. "No, Gault, I won't. I will fight you to the end until you realize the mistake of what you've done. I always believed that you would be our world's next hope when Gardner trained you, but…" She sighed. "Don't prove me wrong again."

Gault's eyes flashed for a second. "_So be it. You have spoken your own doom." _He turned and walked slowly back to the fore of his troops, muttering unintelligible words to his forces as he walked. Slowly, the army of Tauros, shadows, and Balrogs stepped back a few hundred feet, preparing to charge.

Athena wiped away another tear from her eye before she heard Sitting Bull roar, "Charge!"

Both sides of the conflict paused for a second before raising their weapons and letting out a bloody roar as they hurled themselves at each other.

-----

Slowly, footsteps walked through the ashes of Perion.

Dariel Marron silently strode through the wreckage of his home, his eyes bleakly searching the landscape. It seemed as though he were looking for something, but could not find it. Finally, he turned a corner and walked up to the still-smoldering wreckage of a house.

He walked inside and noticed, on the ground, a pile of scorched armor and a sword. As he picked up the armor, something inside rattled; he shook it and winced slightly as ashes and burnt bone fragments rattled out of the armor.

Tears came to Marron's eyes and he wiped them away. _Father, I promise I will find whomever is responsible for your death. I will make them pay dearly._

He lifted up his father's blade, a large Heaven's Gate sword. He swung it through the air a few times, taking in the feel of the gigantic blade as he brandished it amidst the wreckage of his house.

-----

"_Power Strike!"_

_A young blonde-haired warrior, about six years old, eagerly brandished a shortsword as he ran at his father. With a loud yell, he crashed into the older warrior's armor. The White Knight laughed as he pretended to fall to the ground._

"_I got you, Daddy! I got you good on that one!" The young boy pranced eagerly around his father's figure._

"_Hah, Dariel…" The knight unsheathed his own sword, a large Heaven's Gate, and playfully bonked his son on the head with the hilt. The boy fell on top of his father._

"_Ow, Daddy, that hurt!" he whined, staring at the huge sword. "Wow, Daddy, that's a big sword! It looks so cool! Can I try it?"_

_The knight laughed. "Sure, Dariel, of course." He handed the sword to the child, who of course couldn't lift it from the ground. After a while, panting, he finally collapsed onto the ground. "It's too big." he muttered disconsolately._

"_Don't worry, Dariel. Someday, if you train hard, you will be able to wield that sword. You'll be a great warrior. You will be a hero."_

_"You promise, Daddy?" he stared up into his father's eyes._

"_Yes, Dariel." He ruffled his son's blonde hair. "I promise._

_-----_

Marron sighed ruefully as he stared once more at the burnt armor. Carefully, he gathered up all the ashes and fragments from the floor and placed them in a small box lying on the floor. He then took the box and laid it carefully on the shelf above the fireplace. Then, he unsheathed his Doombringer and carefully laid the great sword underneath the box. Silently, he returned the Heaven's Gate to his own sheath, then left the house.

He walked silently along the path out of Perion, towards Henesys. He really had no reason for going to the archer city, but he just felt he had to walk- anything to clear his mind. His greaves echoed across the burnt ground as he took the path.

As he neared, however, he could see that something was definitely wrong. In the distance, there was a loud commotion, and as he got closer, he could hear the clanging of swords and the roaring of monsters. The horribly familiar scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air. Swearing, Marron unsheathed the Heaven's Gate and dashed forward towards the plains of Henesys.

He barely had time to think before a Tauromacis lunged furiously at him, its spear raised. With a massive effort, he roared, "Power Guard!" The spear bounced off of his blade; with a shout of "Fire Charge!" Marron impaled it through the chest, and it fell.

He dashed forward, and he could see that this was a war of some sort; warriors, magicians, bowmen, and thieves battling Tauros and mysterious shadow figures, with others hurling attacks at Crimson Balrogs in the background. Anxious to get an explanation, Marron used Combo Attack to hew aside another slew of Tauros, then ventured forward to where Grendel and Dark Lord were watching the fight.

"Excuse me!" The two leaders looked up to see a crusader with a Heaven's Gate sword draped across his back. "What's going on here?!"

"Gault Isentryx attacked." Grendel said darkly. "Athena and Sitting Bull are attempting to drive back his forces. If you have any sense, you'd better go out and fight with them."

"So I will." Marron responded, before raising his sword. He slashed another Tauromacis to pieces before driving his blade through several shadow figures as they rushed towards him, and then he was lost in the tide, another warrior fighting against the masses of evil.

The battle dragged on furiously. It soon became clear that the human troops were losing their edge in the fight. As skilled as the fighters were, they could not compete against sheer numbers of the opposing forces. Quickly, Athena and Sitting Bull headed back to report that their main priority would be to evacuate all the citizens unable to fight. Grendel and Dark Lord solemnly received the message and immediately headed off with the other two to round up all the townspeople and move them to a safer location. Without the leaders, the remaining fighters would probably be slaughtered, but that simply couldn't be helped. This was war, and the only thing to do was to save the townspeople.

Marron made his way to the frontlines where several other warriors were furiously fighting against the beasts that threatened them. One crusader impaled a Taurospear through the heart only to be cut down by its companion's spear shortly after. Once more, Marron was forcibly reminded of the battle with the forces near Henesys- but this was different. This time, they were fighting the real enemy.

Fired with this knowledge, he snapped his fingers and commanded, "Combo Attack! Fire Charge!" Red-hot flames began to leap about his blade as blue-white orbs of energy danced around him. His Heaven's Gate dangerously glowing, Marron charged forward. "Dragon Fury!"

The combined force of the attack ripped through the ground, causing the land to erupt with flames and taking out a large line of enemies; the other warriors stared dumbfoundedly at this new arrival who could utilize the powers of all the warriors.

"What are you staring for?" The blonde-haired warrior shook his hair out of his eyes. "You won't be able to save your families if you stand there! Charge!" He raised his blade and dashed forward into the thicket of enemies.

Encouraged by the warrior's words, the crowd of defenders gave an almighty roar and followed after Marron, viciously slashing and casting spells to defend their homes. Nevertheless, for every enemy one soldier brought down, Marron slaughtered two or three. No enemy could stand in the way of his combined skills and his father's sword.

Marron fought his way through the frontlines of the enemy ranks and quickly broke through their defenses, creating an opening. _I have to clear this area, and fast. _Quickly, he raised his Heaven's Gate and plunged it into the ground. "Dragon Roar!"

An array of purple lightning ripped forth from the ground, throwing the limp bodies of countless Tauros into the air. Panting, Marron sunk to his feet as the exhaustion of the attack overwhelmed him. Above him, he saw a Taurospear raised its gigantic weapon; he tensed himself, preparing to dive out of the way, but as the Taurospear struck, another warrior leaped in the way of the blast, getting impaled and showering Marron with droplets of his blood.

"Damn it!" Marron staggered to his feet and quickly slew the Taurospear with a cry of "Panic!" before turning to the fatally wounded warrior. "Why did you save me?" he asked, bending over the man.

"You're…our…only…hope…" the warrior coughed. "There…are…energy pills…in my pack. T…ake them…for yourself."

With that, the fallen warrior expired; Marron furiously bowed his head, but he knew the warrior was right. He was the human resistance's only hope at the moment. He rummaged through the warrior's pockets and found a small supply of concentrated potion pills, which he stowed in his own pockets before forging on.

With the pills he had taken from the warrior, Marron was able to slay countless enemies, but no matter how many foes he cut down, two more sprung up to take their places. _Dammit! We need a wide-range attack to scatter their forces. I could try Dragon Roar, but it's too weak at the moment. Besides, I'll only exhaust myself. _He cast a despairing glance at the sky. _Where the hell are Athena and Sitting Bull when you need them?_

A menacing growl came from above him; Marron rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a dark burst of lightning. It was a Crimson Balrog, its great fangs bared. Swiftly, Marron raised his sword and leaped at the great creature. "Spiral Slash Strike!" He cleaved off the great demon's leg; it gave a howl of pain and toppled over. He had to smile as he remembered the first time he had used that technique.

_Ark…Ryden…where are you?_

Those two were his friends, more or less, but they weren't here now. Despairingly, Marron looked around him; there seemed no end in sight to the enemies, and although the defenders fought valiantly, they were no match for sheer numbers. Quickly, Marron gauged the situation. _We need to separate their forces so they're easier to handle. Athena and Sitting Bull don't seem to be around, so it looks like…this is my job._

Another Crimson Balrog charged at him; without faltering, he leapt up to meet it. "Thunder Charge…Charge Blow!" There was a tremendous flash of lightning as he blast a great gaping hole through the demon's chest; it fell limply to the ground as he landed.

_I'm sorry, Seles…but it looks like I'll have to use **that**_ _technique._

He turned to the fighters behind him and shouted, "Get to a safe distance! When I split them apart, attack in two groups. Make sure they don't regroup! We must divide and conquer!" The defenders nodded in affirmative and retreated slightly, leaving Marron alone on the plains as the gigantic group of monsters charged at him.

The lone crusader stared fiercely at the beasts charging at him, his Heaven's Gate shining in the dim light as his hair fluttered in the wind.

_It was you bastards that destroyed Perion, my home, and my father. I'll never forgive you for this. I'm taking you to hell with me._

The monsters were getting closer and closer; without faltering, Marron gripped his Heaven's Gate and held it above his head. "Combo Attack!" he shouted in a commanding tone, as if he knew these were the last words he was about to speak.

Blue globes of light began to swirl around him; he concentrated the magic until there was a helical column of blue light surrounding him and giving him an eerie glow, his hair rapidly fluttering in the wind that his enchantment kicked up.

"Fire Charge!" He began to swing his sword in a circular motion, twirling it about his wrist. As the sword spun faster and faster, orange flames began to leap from the hilt, illuminating the crusader's face against the dark atmosphere. The flames combined with the energy from his previous attack, kicking up even more dust and wind.

_This is it. I'm going to use the forbidden arte that Seles taught me._

He grit his teeth as the monsters neared him. Raising his flaming sword, he pointed it at his enemies. "Dragon's Blood!" He felt the power of the Dragon Knights soak into him as his vitality quickly drained. There wasn't much time left. This would be his final attack.

Marron's eyes were closed, but he could still feel the gigantic group of monsters bearing down on him. He continued to twirl his sword in midair, letting it absorb the fiery mana in the air until it was a great star of pure heat and light.

The nearest Tauromacis raised its spear, about to strike.

Marron brought the great sword across in a vicious arc, completely vaporizing the Tauromacis in a burst of great flame. As he swung his sword, a storm of superheated air flowed out and proceeded to vaporize a large section of the opposing army, blowing them away in a hail of ashes.

A Crimson Balrog soared at him, its claws crackling with evil energy; before it could strike, he made another great slash in midair, instantly incinerating it and sending out another great gust of burning air. The atmosphere ignited as the crusader continued to swing his sword, incinerating great crowds of foes.

Finally, after completing six fiery rounds of the sword, he set his glare on the crowd of enemies remaining, his fiery blade poised.

_This is it. Now, you die!_

He slammed the blade ferociously into the ground, burying it a foot in the earth.

"_Brimstone Tempest!!"_

With a loud groan, the ground began to shake and crack, pieces of rubble and stone vibrating across the ground. The monsters paused for a second, puzzled, before charging at the crusader, his blade still buried in the ground.

Then, suddenly, the earth beneath their feet was obliterated. It was as though the world had turned inside out as immense ammounts of fiery magic burst through the ground as though it were paper. Lava and fiery rocks spewed from the cracks in the earth, blanketing the field with great clouds of volcanic steam.

Marron sunk to his knees as his mana left him, totally exhausted. With some satisfaction, he noted that he had eliminated about half of the monsters on the field. It would be easy for his comrades to defeat the rest of the troops now.

He felt extremely tired and wanted to lie down, but he kept his grip on the huge blade until exhaustion and lack of mana forced him to the ground.

_Dad… I did it. I've avenged you._

He tiredly rummaged through his pocket and found a small handful left of the pills that the warrior had given him. He put one in his mouth, then stared at the rest of the blue capsules. After looking at them for a few moments, he stuffed all of the pills in his mouth and forced himself to swallow. He felt his strength return to him somewhat; using the Heaven's Gate as support, he pulled himself up and slowly walked back to the back of the battlefield, the warriors streaming past him as they charged.

Marron brushed some of his sweaty hair out of his face and sheathed his great blade, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He stared at the battle behind him, furiously raging on, but now turning in their favor. He smiled, even as he winced in pain. At least he had finally fulfilled his responsibility as the future leader of the warriors.

Indeed, Sitting Bull and Athena rushed up to him, both beaming. "That was amazing!" Athena said breathlessly. "You single-handedly turned the tide of battle in our favor…"

"Don't mention it." Marron said, folding his hands behind his back.

"Indeed." Sitting Bull gave a rare smile. "I am surprised you have mastered that arte; no one, not even Keiga Seles, has been able to perform that technique without killing themselves in the past century." He sighed. "Your father would have been proud of you, Aslan…"

The effect was electric; Marron's face immediately went the color of the snow around him as he stared at Sitting Bull with a mixture of disgust and hate.

"D…Don't…" Marron's voice was laced with shocked fury; a tear dripped down his cheek and his hands were clenched into furious fists. "Don't…call me by that name! And don't mention my father like that!"

Athena glanced at Sitting Bull out of the corner of her eye, expecting to see her hot-tempered counterpart give the boy a thorough shouting for his disrespect. However, to her utter amazement, the leader of the warriors only made a small apologetic nod. "My sincerest apologies, Dariel."

Marron furiously turned on his heel and stomped away, leaving deep tracks in the snow. Sitting Bull forlornly watched as the crusader angrily left.

"What…was that about?" Athena dared to ask.

Sitting Bull merely stared up at the sky. "Keiga Seles had a son eighteen years ago. The boy's mother died during childbirth, and Seles was devastated. At the time, he was training to become a Dark Knight and simply couldn't fulfill his parental duties under the circumstances. He gave the boy, which he christened Aslan, to a longtime friend of his, Kain Marron." He sighed as Athena looked on interestedly.

"It was no secret that Kain was a much better father than Seles ever could be. He renamed the child Dariel, after the legendary Paladin Dariel Ryuuzaki. In any case, Kain and Dariel shared a closer bond than any father could with his son. Dariel lived his entire childhood life believing that Kain was his real father. When Kain returned him to Seles as part of his training, Dariel became extremely distraught when Seles told him that he was his true father and that his name was Aslan. To this very day, he still refuses to acknowledge the fact that he is Seles' son."

Athena put a hand over her mouth, as Sitting Bull went on.

"The confrontation left a great mental scar upon Seles for the rest of his life. He regretted that he would rather have been a Dark Knight than a good father to his son. As a result, his once-legendary power has since faded. He is not the warrior he used to be."

"That's horrible…" Athena murmured. "To live your life raised by a false parent, not knowing who your true bearers were…" She stared at the ground. "He must be suffering greatly."

"They both are." Sitting Bull responded sadly, deciding that now was not the appropriate time to remind Athena of the irony of her remark. "In any case, we should thank Aslan for his contribution to our victory. Gault will not rest idly after this defeat." He turned on his heel and walked away.

Athena watched him leave; somehow, his words reminded her of Zeraion Phoenix.

Her heart caught with a mixture of pity and self-guilt; sighing, she pushed the feeling away and followed after him, her footsteps echoing across the scarred, burnt ground.

-----

Author's Note: Thus ends another long, inane, inconsistent chapter of this story. I hope you enjoyed it. :D

The 'incident' in Iggy's early life that was referred to will be revealed next chapter.

First of all, Brimstone Tempest is the name of a Hi-Ougi used by Largo in Tales of the Abyss. Oh, and by the way, the story about what happened to Ryden's parents has an eerie resemblance to what happened to Lloyd's parents in Tales of Symphonia. (I swear, I didn't notice the similarity until I re-read it and I was like, "O…kay…")

So, anyway, feel free to comment and criticize at your whim. Good reviews speed up the next chapter. People who tell me that my plot is inconsistent will have the opposite effect.


	11. Irrelevant Intercepts I: Filler Chapter

**Chapter 10.5**

_Behind the Revolt: A Crazy Cutscene Chapter That Has Absolutely Nothing To Do With The Storyline But Should Be Read Anyway (BtR: ACCCTHANTDWTSBSBRA for short)_

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_Warning: This is not a real chapter of Revolt. This is merely a crack drabble written by the author in order for him to keep his sanity. If you're actually interested in the story, then this is not for you. For all others who want to waste their lives reading a rant from the hand of a neurotic author, then you've come to the right place. I understand that this isn't a real chapter per se, but please find it in your heart to not report this (unless it's so terrible you would be saving the universe by deleting it :P)_

**_Behind the Revolt: A Crazy Cutscene Chapter That Has Absolutely Nothing To Do With The Storyline But Should Be Read Anyway _is sponsored by Kal Ancalas Productions, makers of crack stories since 2005. We at Kal Ancalas Productions devote our full resources to attempting to make your life slightly happier. Although we usually fail miserably.**

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_If you've ever read my series of drabbles concerning MapleStory titled "Ranger's Treatise", then you pretty much know what this chapter is going to be like. It will be full of dry commentary and a horribly drab sense of humor. Enjoy._

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Ten chapters.

125,081 words. (So far.)

80 reviews.

2960 hits. I sense a low reviews-to-hits ratio here, people…(cough)

0 C2's. (Oh, rapturous joy.)

14 favs.

11 alerts.

That, my friends, is this story in a nutshell.

Yes, this is Revolt of the Archers. First published on December 14, 2006, and still going on to this very day. To date, it has been my most successful story, as you can see from the statistics cited above.

I think of this as the stereotypical "Author that wants to write the ground-breaking story of the century, but fails miserably" kind of tale. While this is disputably the most popular story in the small Maple Story fandom (and you're free to argue over this), personally, I really don't consider it to be an earth-shattering accomplishment.

I believe this story started out as a result of being burned out over Ranger's Treatise and lost nostalgia over my old Maple Story fanfic The Iliad of Bera (which failed quite miserably, if you were still back around when it was up.) Like most crazy authors, I took the world of Maple Story, put my own characters in it, and spun a huge, elaborate tale about some guy who saves the world from evil. How exciting, no?

Well, not really. For one thing, this story reeks of inconsistency (a couple of people have pointed this out, and I acknowledge that), it has a lot of overused cliches, such as the romantic dying scene and the friend turned against friend plot device (but what else was I supposed to do, write that they lived happily ever after? Geez…), it contains too many washed-up references to several things, most notably the Tales of…series. (It's not my fault I like Jade Curtiss, dammit, okay?)

But that aside, it still continues to stand, spurred forth only by the compliments of many reviewers and the plot devices that my overproductive, unrestrained mind spits out.

That is why, since I have a horrible case of writer's block for the next chapter, I am replacing Iggy's horribly traumatic past and Gault's assault (Hey, that rhymes!) with a bunch of drabbles, fresh from the mind.

Hope you enjoy.

**Kal's Thoughts on Reviews (and the people that write them)**

Recently, someone suggested that instead of spending weeks on writing long chapters, I cut down the chapter size and write shorter chapters, but update at a faster pace, one chapter per week.

It's not that I don't appreciate that person's suggestion, but if that person had been doing a little math, this story's been up from 12/14 to 2/15, which is two months. Two months is sixty days (okay, sixty-two). Divide that by the ten chapters, and you have, roughly, one chapter every six days, which is actually faster than what the reviewer in question suggested. Impatient readers are the proverbial thorn in every author's behind, and I can say that honestly from previous experience.

Besides, for all of you whose brains melted at the mere suggestion of math (Don't worry, I'm one of those people too. To hell with the Law of Cosines!) I prefer working at a slower pace. Writing a story is one of the few things in life you simply can't rush, no matter how much you want to. Like food poisoning. I apologize to all the other authors of the Maple fandom who are reading this, but I don't want to fall into the "write boring 1000-3000 word stub a week and pray for reviews" pattern. I do understand that you people have needs to tend to, but at the same time, I don't exactly have all that much free time on my hands. Don't believe me?

On a normal day, I wake up at six, brush my teeth, take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, etc. Then I waste eight and a half hours of my life at IHOAI: International House of Academic Inferiority. After which I return home to a comfortable shelter with a loving family…

"GO PRACTICE YOUR PIANO!! NOW!!!"

In case you haven't noticed by now, yes, I am Asian, and I reek of every single Asian stereotype that ever existed. In fact, I think my family probably invented a few of them. And don't laugh when I say that my mother is the Adolf Hitler of piano. I love and respect my parents very much, but when you have a maternal figure that screams her head off every time you get up from the piano to get a drink of water or go to the bathroom, that's crossing the line. And like many high-school students, my parents have been reading me the "If you don't play piano/other retarded extracurricular activities, you won't get into a good school, blah blah blah" riot act every day. I understand all of that, but it's still a royal pain in the ass.

Personally, I can just picture my admission interview playing on in my head. The way my parents have been going on about it, you'd think it would go something like this:

"Okay, Mr. Kal Ancalas, we've looked over your records. Apparently, you have a perfect A+ on all of your AP courses, and you obtained a perfect score on your SAT's, a feat only achieved by one student out of ten thousand. In addition, you are the captain of your school's tennis team and chess club, and you have performed various acts of community service and have been an upstanding member of your community. However, there is one slight problem."

"Yes?"

"We have scoured and cross-checked all your records, and we have unfortunately been able to find no record of you ever having played the piano. We are sorry, but we at Stereotypical-Ivy-League-Big-Name University cannot accept students with such an unfound knowledge of musical study. As a result, your position has been forfeited to a Russian exchange student who has a F average and a 400 on the SAT, but has been able to play the piano."

"B-but I can play the opening theme to Bleach!"

"We don't care about contemporary Japanese pop music. We only care about classical pieces by a bunch of old, dead, white European guys that have a lot of notes and require the use of the damper pedal. Thank you for applying and have a nice day."

…Yep. I explained all of this theoretical conversation to my parents. They were less than amused and rewarded my well thought-out argument with an extra hour of practice.

Now that I've wasted your time by dedicating a page to piano, I also must devote an hour each every day to learning Chinese. Trust me, it's not as glamorous as it sounds when your mother bitch-slaps you for every word you don't know. And when your father is a Ph.D with a degree in mathematics, it stands that you must spend time learning B.S like trig, geometry, and discrete math, so that's what I do. And then there's the exercise. When your exercise consists of running up and down a flight of stairs 100 times, there are those times when you just really want to go to hell. (If you think that's easy, try it for yourself.) Not to mention that all this doesn't include my usual super-sized order of homework from IHOAI every day, which usually results in me getting virtually no sleep.

So, returning to the original point before I ended up going on this huge-ass tangent, I obviously don't have a lot of time to write. Although I don't want to sound like a jerk (too late), it is slightly disheartening to realize that you still have rabid people out there who want to read the next installment of your story, so you better fire up the computer and start writing. Folks, writing fanfiction should be a joy and pleasure. It shouldn't be a two-ton ball and chain around your neck.

It is rather nice, though, to come home from a grueling bout with high school and read reviews along the lines of:

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"_GG another chapter :D  
very nice job on this one  
now go write more chapters lamo"_

I think you meant 'lmao', not 'lamo'…

Although I know this is a compliment, I can't help screaming "WRITE YOUR OWN CHAPTERS, YOU FREELOADER!" in my mind. -Kal

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"_very very nice i want anothjer chapter. very nice story. u got me to read all chapters in 4 hours and now i want more :P"_

Thanks. It's nice to know I wasted four hours of your life and made you enjoy it. -Kal

_---_

"_I loved this chapter! I actually took an hour to finish it (slow reader)_

_  
Loved the details! I really want to know what's going to happen with Gault soon xD"_

He checks into a mental ward, eventually becomes sane again, gets married, settles down, and has a nice, quiet life.

Just kidding. Although it would be a lot nicer for everyone if that actually did happen. -Kal

_---_

"_im not even a member of fanfiction, it was reccomended to me by a friend. One day i stumbled across this fic... It is to be quite honest..awesome, i mean, i sat and read every chapter through all in one go (i was here some hours). Very addictive story with a good plot, "me likes very muchly" XD. Anyway, i look forward to new chapters, keep the good work coming "_

Wow. That's truly touching for any author, least of all me, to read. Thanks. -Kal

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While it saddens me slightly that some of the comments I get are written by people that have a grasp of basic spelling/grammar that a brain-dead chimp would envy, it is still an extremely satisfying feeling for any author to know that I wasted a few precious hours of people's lives and actually made them enjoy it. People, those are the kind of things I (and most other authors in the world, for that matter) write for; to entertain the masses.

Then, of course, there are the comments that go something like this:

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"_u no..._

_This story isn't as good as I thought it would be when I first read the chap 1 reviews._

_I don't know why though xD_

_Did I tell u that ur plot flows inconsistently? O_

_For eg._

_Ur sorta running of track from the real story and plot and not sticking to it u no?_

_Hope u improve on that._

_Signing out"_

What the bloody stool sample does 'for eg' mean? Is that part of a secret code, or is that short for something?

And I'll improve my inconsistency when you grow up and lose the chatspeak. You're on a freaking fiction site, not dodging bullets in the middle of a MMORPG. -Kal

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"_Quick question, aren't you afraid of your audience losing interest by the way you will jump from one group of characters to the next? To be honest, I was slightly annoyed when you jumped to Phoenix right before you were about to explain Marron's use of skills, and by the time you got back to it, I found that I didn't care to hear your explaination about Marron's use of skills._

_And not to seem any more rude than I already do, do your male characters have any other overriding character trait other than bored? I've lost count of the number of times someone has replied dryly or some variation of that to something._

_Please try not to go into a downward spiral."_

You might not know it, but when I "jump from one group of characters to the next," I'm using a well-known literary device. It's called suspense. Ever heard of it?

I'm not blaming you- perhaps that's just the way you read, and you have a short attention span, like I do. As I explained previously in a PM, I'm not the kind of person with the ability to write consistently about one subject without rambling off in a totally irrelevant direction. Therefore, I write in sections so as to keep the reader interested instead of nodding off in the middle of some long, boring explanation- I guess that had the opposite effect on you, but whatever.

By the way, the explanation for the repetitive dryness of my characters is because when I write, my characters tend to reflect whatever emotion I'm feeling at the time. Hence the overall sense of boredom.

Don't get me wrong; I appreciated your concrit, but it's just part of my nature to reply to every negative comment I receive, to cool off the ticking in my brain. -Kal

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"_OK._

_'"Hey, Zer!" Joe lunged at me, wrapping me in a bear hug.'_

_That gives the impression that they're...er...gay. Yes, I know it's just one little expression of companionship, but...can't you make it so that Joe claps him on the back, or a HALF hug..._

_And another thing. It's either you're ignoring my reviews or you don't take my opinions into account. Athena is a FEMALE. So she should be addressed as "Mistress" instead of "Master".  
If you don't change it...I shall sue. I'm sorry, but I really will. I CANNOT cope with these types of errors. Not so simple ones. So do me and everyone else a favour and change it, OK? Thanks. The rest is good."_

Everyone else? As far as I can tell, I don't see anyone else complaining about that little error…

This is one of the all-time favorite comments that I ever received. I wrote a rather nice reply to it at the beginning of Chapter 9 and I don't feel like copy-pasting it, so you can look back at it if you want. While I don't think the reply seemed to appease the reviewer (she stopped reviewing after that), it gave me a chuckle and let the steam out of my system. Bad Joe! You don't go around hugging people of the same gender these days…

I can understand her chagrin at my using terms incorrectly, but it's not like that's an earth-shattering error that would ruin the whole plot of the story. Maybe I should change that to "Holy Grand Exalted Bowmistress" for accuracy…

Nah. -Kal

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Needless to say, I was less than thrilled to read these comments, but I acknowledge the fact that these people are entitled to their opinions and that they are only speaking their minds. That's fine; I mean, I don't expect this story to be an instant masterpiece from the get-go. I appreciate the fact that these people care enough to point out my writing faults and help to better my abilities as an author.

Despite their good intentions, though, I still get that hot-in-the-head feeling that all authors get when they receive criticism, so I write sarcastic replies like these to help me let off a little steam so I can keep writing.

By the way, in case you haven't noticed, one of my greatest pet peeves is when people use chatspeak; i.e. abbreviated language, such as replacing "Wow, that story was really great! You're a really good author!" with "omg taht stry wuz teh sh!t ur a rly kewl auhtor!!!111". I understand that chatspeak evolved out of the need to type quickly in the midst of action, like when you're in the middle of playing a MMORPG or when you're talking with a chatty friend, but _seriously. _This is only FF; let's keep some dignity here, people.

And then there are the Master and Chief and Arbiter reviews, which deserve a category of their own.

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_Whoa... Dragon Trigger kicked major ass! I loved that portrayal of yours! Well with the way you typed it there are going to be a few distinct differences between Revolt and Lone Crusader, but I don't mind those. It's your story, you type it the way you want to._

_Well all of the chapter was good, but the parts I want to comment on were the ones where you introduced Dragon Trigger and Devil Trigger. Those rocked! I couldn't stop grinning! I promise I'll make Zeraion's role in Lone Crusader as great as Ryden's role in Revolt, keep up the good work! Wishing you good luck on your review count and a Happy Chinese New Year! (I'm a chinese Singaporean, don't be surprised.)_

Thanks. I'll be on the lookout for your next chapter as well. Happy late Chinese New Year to you too. -Kal

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And then we have my personal favorite: The King of Bitches. If you thought the one about Joe being gay and Athena being a bondage mistress was good, wait until you read this.

_"Ok...let's see, let's see, lets see...Honestly, there much to much wrong with this first chapter to say it all in one go, but I'll try my best._

_To start off with, there's a Truckload of Grammatical errors; again, to much to list completely but I'm sure If you reviewed your writing with a spell check or Grammar check tool you'll see our mistakes._

_Another thing. Where's the description?_

_I Quote: I immediately ran off to the Henesys weapon and armor store, and using some of the money Ark gave me, bought a War Bow, some green archer clothes, and a quiver full of arrows. I put it on and stared at myself in the mirror for a bit, and I had to admit, I definitely seemed a lot more dashing than I did a long time ago. End Quote._

_Some green archer clothes? Pitiful. Truly Pitiful. Um, what does a war bow look like? Oh yeah. That's right. You never said so. What mirror where you talking about? Was it in the shop? On the ground outside? You seemed more "Dashing"? Rofl._

_Another thing._

_"One year later"_

_Do you have ANY idea how annoying that is? One full year has passed and you haven't displayed even the slightest bit of adventure, action or any character or atmospheric description or development?_

_"The arrows struck the ribbon pig between the eyes as it charged at me. It let out a squeal as it slumped to the ground. Smiling, I untied the ribbon from around its neck and slipped it into the pack on my back. Those ribbons were prized by the women of Henesys and could sell for a decent price"_

_What did the pigs look like? What color was the ribbon? Where the hell are you in the first place?_

_"Blue-white bolts of lightning shot from the sky and struck down the pigs faster than I could draw an arrow. Furiously, I spun around to see a wizard, smirking at me."_

_Blue? White? Overly used words, like run or throw. Try bright, sparkling Sapphire, or Glowing, radiant ivory. Yeah, a bit trivial, but you constantly chose to leave out words and description that are necessary in painting the wondrous picture that IS your story. _

_Another thing. There's a constant shift in your point of views; its confusing and ultimately, annoying. Learn from your mistakes and make the appropriate changes. Learn it. Live it.  
Write it.  
Or your will sorely suffer. Yeah, harsh, flame-ish but its true. Personally I see no potential in your story. But I see lots of potential in you. So don't take this as Flames. Take it as constructive criticism."_

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Of all the stories in the Maple Story section that this jackass had to critique, he chose this one...

Apparently, a lot jumps to mind when one reads this self-branded "constructive criticism". For one thing, given that he (or she, I don't know and I don't care) is complaining about an apparent lack of description, I can only assume that this person has never played Maple Story in their life, or otherwise is a huge asswipe who wants to stir up a fuss about something minimal. Hello? When you read a fanfic, the author assumes that you at least have some basic knowledge of what exactly the fanfic is based upon. Would you rather read through pages and pages of useless, flowery descriptions before you get to one interesting plot-related sentence? I can see where your need for description stems from, but keep in mind that I'm not a bestseller author and you shouldn't expect my first chapter to be perfect. This was written two months ago. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is written from the point of view of an eleven year old, so I wanted to make it sound juvenile. That's the whole point. Perhaps you missed it in your flamboyant need to ridicule me.

_"Another thing. Where's the description?_

_I Quote: I immediately ran off to the Henesys weapon and armor store, and using some of the money Ark gave me, bought a War Bow, some green archer clothes, and a quiver full of arrows. I put it on and stared at myself in the mirror for a bit, and I had to admit, I definitely seemed a lot more dashing than I did a long time ago. End Quote._

_Some green archer clothes? Pitiful. Truly Pitiful. Um, what does a war bow look like? Oh yeah. That's right. You never said so. What mirror where you talking about? Was it in the shop? On the ground outside? You seemed more "Dashing"? Rofl."_

Haha. I think my description ran off with your tact. Would "blowsy, emerald-colored, tunic made of specially woven cloth in the fields of Henesys" have suited better? Or "gently sloped and carved bow, delicately hand-painted with touches of sapphire"? And I assume you know what "dashing" means, and I used it in perfect context, so what exactly is your point?

Wow, what kind of smart person puts a mirror on the ground? Yes, it was in the shop, you genius. As an author, I'm assuming you're intelligent enough to fill in all the itsy-bitsy details like those above instead of me spoon-feeding them to you. I don't have the time, patience, or skill to crank out pages of that bullshit, and I keep my paragraphs short, concise, and to the point. Maybe that's not what you like, but then again, I'm not obligating you to read this.

Grammatical errors? You could have at least given a couple of examples of before you started shooting your mouth off needlessly. I don't doubt that I have them (since I don't have Word and thus no spell/grammar checker), but I would have liked to see you cite an instance or two. Let's work on that in the future, eh?

_Another thing._

_"One year later"_

_Do you have ANY idea how annoying that is? One full year has passed and you haven't displayed even the slightest bit of adventure, action or any character or atmospheric description or development?_

A little, but it's not nearly as annoying as sticking in real time and reading an entire chapter to how he killed lots and lots of snails in order to level up- with his delicately turquoise-painted bow and his specially woven tunic on, no less! There is a fine line between vivid description and utter boredom, and I don't feel like crossing it. Yes, I could have told you about what happened in those twelve months: He went outside, killed snails, went home, ate dinner, took a crap, had a shower, went to bed. Rinse, lather, and repeat. Nothing interesting in his life happens until that point in time, which is precisely why I skipped to that point to save you the trouble. It may be annoying to you, but I consider it the best I can do, given that I am trying to tell a story through the point of view of a kid.

_"The arrows struck the ribbon pig between the eyes as it charged at me. It let out a squeal as it slumped to the ground. Smiling, I untied the ribbon from around its neck and slipped it into the pack on my back. Those ribbons were prized by the women of Henesys and could sell for a decent price"_

_What did the pigs look like? What color was the ribbon? Where the hell are you in the first place?_

_"Blue-white bolts of lightning shot from the sky and struck down the pigs faster than I could draw an arrow. Furiously, I spun around to see a wizard, smirking at me."_

_Blue? White? Overly used words, like run or throw. Try bright, sparkling Sapphire, or Glowing, radiant ivory. Yeah, a bit trivial, but you constantly chose to leave out words and description that are necessary in painting the wondrous picture that IS your story."_

What did the pigs look like? Wow, I guess they looked like...bog-standard pigs. What other kind are there? Were you expecting were-pigs? Or dragon pigs? And the ribbon was a shimmering shade of blood-red crimson- or red, in layman's terms. Can't get much more descriptive than that, can you? By the way, "sapphire" and "ivory" aren't terms I would use to describe a bolt of lightning- I would rather delegate the use of those adjectives to material items. By the way, if you had played Maple Story, you would know that I am talking about Pig Beach. Again, I stress- this is an ELEVEN YEAR OLD we're talking about here, and I am _not _going to stick fancy words in his mouth just to paint the proverbial "picture" for you. That's your job, you freeloader.

_"Another thing. There's a constant shift in your point of views; its confusing and ultimately, annoying. Learn from your mistakes and make the appropriate changes. Learn it. Live it.  
Write it.  
Or your will sorely suffer. Yeah, harsh, flame-ish but its true. Personally I see no potential in your story. But I see lots of potential in you. So don't take this as Flames. Take it as constructive criticism."_

I think you mean, "Or you will sorely suffer." Actually, you shouldn't be saying that at all- you can't begin a sentence with a conjunction. Et tu, "truckload of grammar errors"? I've already expressed my opinion about the constant shifts in the point of views above; once more, we have another stubborn blockhead who simply can't deviate from anything other than a linear story. If I were to write something like that, I would ramble pointlessly on and on, and end up with a ten-page long tangent that has absolutely no relevance to my original point. Writing in small sections is the only way I can keep my own interest, and subsequently, my readers'.

"Constructive criticism"? My ass. When you write constructive criticism, you're supposed to inspire the author to do better, not make him/her feel like a piece of shit.

"Or your will sorely suffer"? Yes, I probably would feel some pain, but only from laughing at your comments so hard.

Basically, here, we have a bourgeois citizen with a stick up his/her ass who just refuses to be satisfied with the time and effort that authors spend on their stories. I can only guess just how much of FF's bandwidth this guy ran up endlessly blabbing about how I need to add more superficial adjectives, when a simple "Be more descriptive" would have sufficed. Rest assured that I will take your review into account, but only as a historical footnote in the synopsis of this cut-chapter.

Nevertheless, I must give the idiot here in question some props for actually using proper grammar (except for one usage of the expression ROFL.) Isn't it ironic how all the good comments are written sloppishly and all the bad comments are piercingly grammar-correct?

One last note: Writing this comeback really felt good. -Kal

_Disclaimer: After exchanging a bit of correspondence with this person, I realized that I don't viciously hate the person who wrote this comment, even though it sounds like I do. In reality, I just wanted to write a sarcastic reply to the so-called concrit of this person to entertain the masses (and relieve a little stress). Truthfully, I can see that this commenter actually cares about my writing skills and I respect him for that._

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And there you have it- my take on the reviews that I receive. Whether you were offended by these or got a good chuckle out of them, I've done my job in either case. Hope to see another inconsistent, devoid-of-detail chapter some time later.

I also drew a supplemental comic based on this experience. It's short and very badly done (I only had an hour to do it) but I still think it should help give you an idea of what kind of life I lead. Copy and paste the following link (without spaces) and enjoy.

w w w . i 1 2 1 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / o 2 4 0 / I D o o d l e O n N a p k i n s / C o m i c . j p g

-Kal Ancalas


	12. The Greatest Sin

**Chapter 11**

Author's Note: Yay, a new chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading the crack chapter (well, everyone except Rhythmic, that is.)

Speaking of which, Rhythmic sent me a PM complaining of tons of hate mail being sent to him. While I'm flattered that all of you thought to give him a piece of your mind, it should be known that he only wrote the scathing review in question because he had a bad day. Consequently, I wrote the previous chapter because I was pissed. So now that that's over and we've basically smoothed over our differences, please call off the hounds. I respect him as a fellow critiquer and I don't want to make an international incident of this.

This chapter starts off rather Joe-centric, as...well, I felt I just had to show the other side of him for once. It's based off a story I read some time ago (not telling which one) and also explains quite a bit about his past life. As promised, Iggy's horribly dramatic past will also be elaborated on. (When I say it's dramatic, I mean it. Don't complain later that I've scarred you for life.)

Anyway, in this chapter, a new character (based on someone from Symphonia in personality, no less) will make an appearance. In addition, a couple of characters from earlier chapters will make appearances here.

One last note: A lot of you enjoyed the comic I made at the end of the crack chapter. If it pleases you, I'm thinking of making a parody of Revolt in comic format. I know it sounds odd for an author to parody his own story, but this fic is just ripe for lampooning and I already have a ton of ideas. However, if I decide to do one, it won't come out for quite a while (it takes about five minutes to do one decent comic panel with shitty Painter Essentials).

-Kal Ancalas

* * *

Rathias Gardner returned to the moonlit residence of The Resistance at midnight; Athena's report had struck him gravely. Apparently, Gault had attacked; the first real act of aggression in this war that the world had suddenly been engulfed in. Despite their bravery, they were severely outnumbered by Gault's forces and had only managed to win through the intervention of Aslan Seles. As he had feared, Athena reported seeing "shadowy, ghostly figures" among Gault's troops, which could only mean one thing; Isentryx was using soul transmutation to revive the souls of the dead. Soul transmutation was a strictly forbidden arte; used only by the vile necromancers. Gault had killed anywhere from a third to half of the island's population, and any one of those souls could be summoned at Gault's disposal. 

_No, _he told himself. _Stop thinking like that. We still have Phoenix, Seles and Ryden. And myself._ He cast a glance at his Shinebow.

_Then again, I do not know how much time I may be able to live. My days have been numbered ever since I fought Zakum some years ago._

He shook his head. _My only course of action at the moment is to train Phoenix and hope…that he does not succumb to the same weakness as I did._

He pushed open the great doors and found a single figure sitting alone at the living room table. The moonlight from above seemed to shine down on him and make him ethereal more than anything.

"Phoenix?" The latter raised his head at the mention of his name. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I was thinking." the ranger responded listlessly.

"And that overworked your brain so much that you couldn't sleep, I take it?" the bowmaster replied.

Zeraion chose to ignore the jab. "How can Gault do such horrible things?" he murmured, tracing the table with a finger. Gardner did not answer, and Zeraion went on. "He wasn't always like this. When I first met him…" He sighed. "He was…friendly. Human, even. As the years went on…it seemed that he became prouder and crueler. Now…" He shook his head.

"It seems that the necromancy that he intended to study took a toll on his humanity." Gardner bowed his head solemnly. "The mysteries of dark magic are not to be trifled with."

"Why does he hate them?" Zeraion sighed. "I mean, I know all the warriors, magicians, and thieves can be rude to us sometimes, but…" He kneaded the table thoughtfully with his knuckles. "Look at the people we have here. Ark, Ascion, all of them…" He sighed regretfully. "If only we could all just get along."

"They won't." Gardner said bluntly. "Even if we defeat Gault, the conflict between the four classes will still go on. Indeed, as a direct result of Isentryx's actions, the rift between the bowmen and the others has deepened even more." He sighed. "It is a sad irony."

"What is Gault's ultimate goal?" Zeraion seemed to stare off into space. "What does he hope to accomplish by killing all those people?"

"An Age of Bowmen." Gardner said softly.

"Excuse me?"

"As a child, Gault was often ridiculed and pushed around by the warriors, magicians, and thieves." Gardner sighed. "I suppose this ended up contributing to his drive as a student of archery. As I trained him, he continually made references to starting a revolt of the archers." He shrugged and sat down at the table, across from Zeraion. "It seems he's already following through with his plan."

"Yeah, I know!" Zeraion sighed. "He talked about a revolt of the archers too…" He banged his fist on the table. "I should have stopped him when I had the chance! Then Grace and the others wouldn't have…" He trailed off.

"Don't blame yourself. I should have stopped Gault as well when I had the opportunity to do so." There was a shadow of something resembling guilt in the bowmaster's eyes. "He was my student and your friend. Neither of us could have stopped him when we had the chance."

"He was never my friend!" Zeraion snapped angrily.

"Oh?" Gardner paused to eye his student with a knowing expression. "Did you honestly believe that he was evil before the incident in Ellinia? Did you really think that he could kill all those people before that moment?"

The horrible truth hung in the air for a moment as Zeraion sheepishly bowed his head to the table. "…Yeah…you're right. I guess I never really stopped to think about what he could do." He angrily stared down at the floor. "I really did like him…at least for a little while. He helped me twice." He sighed. "Without him…I might never have been able to pick up a bow at all."

Gardner let his student digest the truth for a moment. "Gault created his plan for an Age of Bowmen because he couldn't stand for the injustice that bowmen received from the other classes. I know he sounds like a psycho now, but I want you to put yourself in his mind for a moment. How would you feel if you knew your kind was oppressed and hated throughout the world?"

"I…" Zeraion continued to stare at the floor. "I never really thought of it like that..."

"Gault believed that if he were to somehow eliminate the warriors, magicians, and thieves, everyone could become a bowman. Without different classes, he reasoned, there would be no more bloodshed, no more hatred and discord. He wanted to save the world in his own way."

"But…" Zeraion tried to think of a reply. "That still doesn't justify the amount of life that he's taken!"

"Oh?" Gardner paused. "What would you have done if you were in his position- selected to be the heir to the leadership of the bowmen, and endured discrimination and hatred all throughout your life? Would you have merely sat back quietly and done nothing?"

"Well…no, I wouldn't." The ranger put his elbows up on the table, staring directly into his teacher's ice-blue eyes. "But…all the same, I wouldn't…I couldn't have taken all those lives without reason. I would…search for a way to strengthen the bonds between the four classes…without bloodshed."

Gardner raised an eyebrow; he seemed amused and impressed at the same time. "Very idealistic, Zeraion. It seems you've matured." His gaze sharpened. "But at the same time, what you hope for is unfounded and crude. It is a part of human nature to resort to violence in order to solve a conflict. You alone will not be able to change the nature of every single person on this earth. People are willing to fight to the death for their beliefs, whether they are right or wrong." He sighed. "Our battle some time ago with the rebels proved that."

"I know that." Zeraion replied darkly.

"Then why do you still continue to pursue that path, knowing that you will never achieve it?"

Zeraion looked Gardner in the eye. "Because I know it's the right thing to do."

The bowmaster sighed and turned his gaze to the table. "Like you, Gault also once believed that the killing of innocents were wrong. However, he believed that purging the land of all those that were not bowmen was the only and ultimate solution to the conflict."

He fixed his gaze on Zeraion once more with a very serious expression. "You and Isentryx, whether you want to or not, share many similarities. Both of you demonstrated a great proficiency for Final Attack, and you were both chosen to become the future leader of the bowmen. It is possible to maintain that you and Gault were once the same bowman forced to choose between one of two paths; one of turning his hatred against the world that had wronged him, and one of forgiving said world and striving for an idealistic, yet unrealistic desire for a peaceful resolution. Gault chose one path, and you chose the other."

"Yeah…" The blonde-haired ranger nodded. "I suppose so, if you put it like that."

"Because of your conflicting ideals, it is inevitable that if you wish to stop Gault's plans, you must eventually confront him."

"Yes, I know." He rumpled his hair in frustration.

"Then, you should be getting your rest instead of staying up all night." Gardner said matter-of-factly.

Zeraion scowled, but obeyed and headed upstairs. Gardner beadily watched him leave.

_Zeraion Phoenix and Gault Isentryx…_

_The same bowman, forced to choose between one of two paths…_

-----

Sunrise came swiftly at six, and with it a general feeling of unease. For the moment, though, everyone's attention was halfway occupied on Ascion for his creation of the long-range healing arte, which Iris lost no time in making known to everyone.

"Without him, we'd all be doomed," she said in an overly-exaggerated sweet tone, "but thanks to his quick thinking and superior knowledge, the world is now safe…"

The rest of the occupants around the table merely nodded politely and continued eating, save for Ark, who mimed vomiting into his cereal bowl. Ascion looked at his brother, but for the moment decided not to say anything.

Despite Iris' best efforts to pep up the atmosphere, however, the general demeanor was rather reserved and drawn. After the effort by Gault to breach the territory of Elaesia- Henesys no longer- Athena had ordered the formation of a unified army and it was likely that any one of them could be conscripted at any time. The mere thought of it was painful.

"Alright." Gardner finished his breakfast. "Phoenix, Ryden, you two have lessons. Same place. Seles should be there waiting for you." The aforementioned pair nodded and left out through the door. "The rest of you can train, sleep, eat, or do whatever you want. Except for you four," he added, throwing a glance at Tales, Igzarion, Arundale, and Arklanser. "Athena sent word that she wanted to see you."

"Athena wants to see us?" Tales shrugged with a hint of surprise. "I haven't seen her in…about a year."

"Perhaps…" Igzarion began slowly, but broke off the end of his sentence. There was a foreboding air in the room as the four bowmen got up from their chairs and left the house.

"Oh, and before I go, one more thing." Gardner looked at the rest of the people breathlessly sitting around the table. "Stalrigarde?"

Joe barely raised his head at the mention of his name. "Yeah?"

"Dark Lord wants to see you some time today as well." With that, the bowmaster left through the door as well.

"What the hell does Dark Lord want with me?" Joe sighed bitterly. Like the leader of the thieves, he had the habit of twirling a kunai knife around his finger whenever he was frustrated and/or lost in thought. "The last time I saw him, he was giving me a lecture about how my father carelessly waltzed off to Zakum and died…" His voice trailed off slightly.

Everyone eyed the hermit strangely; from his tone, it was difficult to tell what he felt about his parents' deaths. "And he's been pressuring me to study my freakin' alchemy!" he snapped, flinging the knife so that it embedded itself a few inches into the wall. "Does that old geezer think I give a crap about what my father or grandfather or great-grandfather did?!"

There was an unnatural silence in the room. Sighing, the hermit went over to retrieve his knife. "Sorry." he said apologetically once he'd returned. "It's just…I never liked alchemy, nor my father, a lot." He returned the knife to his belt. "All hermits really want to do are throw knives and create shadow replicas. No one really gives a hoot about alchemy any more…" He stared up at the ceiling. "But just because my father was a world-famous alchemist doesn't mean that I have to carry on the family legacy…" He sighed. "I think our family was more famous for marrying our own cousins than our alchemy, now that I think about it."

"That would explain a lot." Schuyler folded her arms.

Joe shot her a steely glare before stalking out the door.

-----

The trip from Henesys to Sleepywood was uneventful, as the archer city was in very close proximity to the great elven forest. Nevertheless, Zeraion and Ryden tried to avoid making eye contact with each other. When their glances did meet, it was for a fleeting moment. It was clear that both were intimidated by each other's newfound powers.

Finally, Zeraion mustered the courage to speak. "Yesterday…You were great."

Ryden managed to smile. "Thanks. You too." He stared up at the sky, trying to break the ice. "I never knew you could use a spear like that..."

"I didn't know I could, either." The ranger's glance dropped to the ground. "It…just felt weird. Like I wasn't even in my body anymore. It reminds me of the time when Gault-"

He cut off the end of his sentence abruptly, and the conversation between the two more or less died from that point.

After a few minutes of walking through Sleepywood forest, Seles met them and led them to the familiar clearing in the forest that they had inadvertently made yesterday. Both Zeraion and Ryden paused as they stood to eye the extent of their destruction.

"Don't worry about it. Sleepywood has an area of a few hundred square miles and counting. What I'm more worried about is how well you'll be able to control your powers so you don't kill yourself like you almost did last time. Don't try to bring out the full power of your weapons yet; just increasing your basic physical attributes will be enough for now."

"Alright." Zeraion took out his bow and strung it. "Where's Gardner?" he asked suddenly, looking around.

Seles raised an eyebrow. "Just because I am one of Rathias' close friends does not mean I am his personal confidant or secretary, Phoenix." He raised a hand and gestured for the ranger to get to the other side of the clearing. "Now…" He cast a glance at the two combatants. "You may begin whenever you like."

Ryden drew the long blade from his sheath and charged at Zeraion, leaping high into the air and swinging so fiercely that there was a whistling noise as the edge of the katana cut through the atmosphere. Zeraion raised the bow to guard against the incoming slashes. Sparks flew through the air as the weapons struck against each other. Undaunted, Ryden struck again and again, light on his feet as he deftly twirled through the air.

Zeraion faltered for a split second, and Ryden saw his chance; with a great stab, he drove the sword through the ranger. Zeraion tensed for a moment before he exploded in a great puff of smoke.

"What the-" Ryden glanced upwards to see the ranger nocking an arrow at him from atop a tree branch.

"You're not the only one who's been practicing these days, Ryden." he said, before releasing the arrow. "Strafe!"

Four arrows shot out at Ryden with supersonic speed. He deflected them all but not without getting a cut in the arm as one of the lances shot past him. The swordsman looked up in time to see Zeraion raise his bow for another assault. "Inferno!"

A bolt of flame erupted from the branch above him. Ryden swiftly raised his sword to guard against the fiery assault. There was a loud explosion as the flames reached him, leaving him dazed but unhurt.

Ryden swiftly considered the situation. With his bow and fire magic, not to mention his natural dexterity and the branches above him, Zeraion obviously had the upper hand. The best course of action would be, of course, to use Dragon Trigger.

He raised the blade and shouted, "Dracon!" Slowly, he felt himself absorb the power of the sword, but he remembered Seles' words. _I have to use the power of the sword sparingly. I have to control it, just like he said._

Zeraion watched from above as Ryden's appearance began to change. _He's going into his transformation. This isn't going to be good. _He raised his bow and swept his hand down the string. "Inferno Strafe!"

The bolts of fire threw themselves at Ryden, searing the plants and trees as they hurtled towards their target. Zeraion watched and waited to see what Ryden would do.

To his surprise, Ryden unsheathed his blade and- Zeraion wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it- swung the sword around in a wide arc, actually catching the fireballs on the tip of his blade and flinging them back at the ranger. Zeraion's eyes opened wide before he quickly leaped out of the way, the branch he'd been standing on moments before now blown into ashes.

"Damn…" He stared at the silver-haired crusader, sword drawn as energy danced about him.

He drew upon the power of his own weapon, feeling the spirit Athos flow into him. Once more, he felt the powerful aura glow about him and he charged, aiming a bolt of flame at the swordsman, who deflected it easily with a wave of his sword.

_He's…toying…with me…_

Angrily, Zeraion raised a hand to his bow and flicked the bowstring, sending several bolts of energy hurtling at the swordsman. Ryden guarded against the blast, but Zeraion was prepared; charging forward, he jumped above Ryden's head and sent a bolt of flame at him. Ryden guarded the blast almost lazily as Zeraion scowled. Swiftly, the ranger leapt to the side and aimed several bolts at the swordsman only to have them all blocked. Ryden's feeling of adrenaline faded almost to annoyance. _What exactly is he hoping to accomplish just by shooting arrows at me? If he thinks that that's going to help…_

Ryden raised a hand and roared, "Shout!" The force of the blast sent the ranger skidding along the forest floor; determination in his eyes, Zeraion charged again, raising his bow and sending a series of fiery bolts at him. Ryden brought his sword up to guard.

Suddenly, something slammed into him from behind, and he toppled to the ground. Swearing, Ryden turned to see another blast of fire throwing itself at him from a different angle. He narrowly rolled out of the way, the flames scorching the tips of his hair. _What the hell…It's like I'm being attacked from several different angles..How can he do that?_

He craned his neck around from where the blast had come from to see Zeraion, winking at him from a branch high above him. Then, there was another explosive retort from the side and Ryden spun around to see Zeraion once more, a hundred feet from the tree branch above. Another burst of flame from the side, another Zeraion waving his hand with spectral bow in tow.

_He created replicas of himself while I was guarding his attacks…Ingenious…_

Still pent-up with energy from his transformation, Ryden drew his now-transformed greatsword and hefted it over his shoulder threateningly. _Let's see if this will work…_

"Round Trip!" he roared, flinging the sword like a boomerang. Defying the laws of physics, the weapon spun like a helicopter blade as it flew through the air, carving down several trees like a hot knife through butter and destroying each of the replicas. The weapon twirled through the air once more before returning itself to Ryden's hand.

Suddenly, the real Zeraion seemed to explode from behind a nearby bush, taking Ryden by surprise. Before he could react, Zeraion raised his bow, glittering with energy. "Power Knock-Back!" Ryden skidded across the ground before alighting on his feet and turning to face the ranger. "Nice trick."

"Thanks. You too." From the side, Seles signaled that it was time to take a rest, and both combatants leaned against trees to rest. "You two did well for your second time. At least you didn't overexert yourselves."

Zeraion slowly lay back, staring up at the sky. From the look on his face, Ryden couldn't tell what he was thinking. Not that he really cared as he sat back against the tree, wiping dirt off his sword. He only knew that he would have to train harder- as Seles had said- and strive harder for a better future. One that could be free from needless fighting and conflict.

-----

The leader of the thieves sat sullenly in headquarters at Elaesia, carefully filling in a sudoku puzzle with a quill pen. He had never really been on good terms with the other three wisemen; and with good reason. He was easily the youngest of all of them, having held the position for only twenty-some odd years, and as a result, was generally regarded with the least respect among the wisemen. His abilities with alchemic artes were enough to grant him the leadership of the thieves, but little else. As a result, he had taken to being somewhat of a recluse; drinking, wearing a dark bat costume, and even taking to hanging upside down for naps. It was no wonder they had fallen out of using his real name and taken to calling him the Dark Lord.

He shook his head and returned his attention to the puzzle set out in front of him. He realized that in his haste, he'd accidentally scribbled the wrong numbers down in the blanks. Swearing, he rubbed out the incorrect figure with the end of his quill and set to work, scribbling out possible permutations for answers. He was so engrossed in trying to solve the problem in front of him that he failed to notice the door open.

"Hello, Dark Lord." The tall, blonde figure of Joseph Stalrigarde appeared in the doorway. "You wanted to see me?"

The leader of the thieves glanced up at the hermit before him. "Ah, yes, Stalrigarde. I did send word through Rathias…" He stood up. "Have a seat."

The hermit lazily slid himself into a stray chair. "So, what exactly did you want to talk to me about?" He glanced at the table. "You need my help to solve a sudoku puzzle?"

Dark Lord ignored the comment. "No. I needed some advice about a very important decision, and I felt you would be suitable company."

"Why not Athena or Grendel?"

"This is a matter that can only be resolved through peer discussion." he said, folding his arms.

"You consider me, a lowly hermit, a peer?"

Dark Lord rolled his eyes. "I suppose that your parents probably left you one meso for every smart-ass comment that you ever made in their will, did they?"

Joe merely gave him a dry stare. "With all due respect, could we actually have a discussion instead of firing sarcastic remarks at each other?"

Dark Lord raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, he merely responded, "If that's what you desire, then so be it." He focused his azure eyes on his student. "Setting all pretense and bias aside, what do you believe are the most important qualities for a thief to have?"

The hermit seemed a little surprised by the question. "Why do you ask that?"

"Just answer the damn question." Dark Lord snapped, impatiently tapping the table. "I didn't invite you over for tea."

"Well…" He sighed, reconsidering the question. "I believe that the most important qualities for a thief to have are dexterity…level-headedness…a thorough understanding of javelin mastery and/or dagger mastery…" He rested his palms on the table. "And alchemy."

"Ah." For the first time in what seemed like years, Dark Lord gave a rare smile. "I never thought I'd live to hear you say those words."

"You wanted a bias-free answer and I gave you one." Joe lay back in his chair. "I'm not saying that I am any of those things."

"Have you ever wanted to be the greatest thief in the world when you were a child?" Dark Lord said, rather abruptly.

"Who hasn't?"

"You describe the most important characteristics of a thief and you can't apply them to yourself, and yet you aspire to become the greatest rogue on this earth. Dreams and butterflies won't get you anywhere, Stalrigarde."

"If this is about alchemy, I don't give a damn." He twirled a knife about his finger. "I can get along perfectly fine with throwing knives, thank you very much, and I don't need anyone to tell me that."

"Are you saying that because you can't use alchemic artes or because you are loath to use them?"

"Of course I can use alchemic artes!" Joe snapped. "I just…don't want to."

"So, the latter." Dark Lord fished something out of his pocket- it was a cigarette. He lit the cigarette and sat back in his chair as smoke filled the room. "You have a lot of potential, Stalrigarde. It's in your blood-"

"Don't remind me." Joe snarled under his breath.

Dark Lord pretended to not have heard the comment. "-and you could easily surpass the powers of any thief on this world if you could just apply yourself. So tell me. Why do you hate alchemy? Why do you willingly turn away something that could easily allow you to achieve your goal?"

"Because…" He bit his tongue and considered the bluntly-asked question. All his life, he had despised alchemy, but he had never really found an absolute reason as to why. The flat-out question from the thief lord left him speechless for a few moments.

"I despise alchemy because…" Joe sighed, tracing a pattern in the wooden table with his knife. "Well, I guess it's all my father's fault, now that I think about it. He was an alchemy freak and I was surprised that he didn't turn himself into a homunculus with all his artes…anyway, I never really liked him in the first place. He wasn't a good father." He stared at the thief lord for a moment. "And the fact that he tried to force alchemy studies up my ass never really helped our relationship. It was 'study this, study that' all day long." He sighed.

"So your dislike for alchemy stems from your dislike for your father…" Dark Lord fixed a serious glare on his student. "Valter may have had his faults, but I am sure that he would have only wanted the best for his children."

"Sure, if he wanted them to die of boredom." Joe said, crossing his arms.

Dark Lord sighed. "Your father only wanted to pass on his family's legacy. Can you honestly blame him for wanting his son to follow in his footsteps?"

This drew a moment of silence. Finally, he said, "Well, I guess if I came from a bunch of crazy weirdos who married their own cousins, I suppose I would have to pass on my abilities to my progeny as well…"

Dark Lord couldn't help but chuckle, albeit humorlessly. "Well said, Joseph. Valter was one of my closest students and friends and I can honestly say that he wished the best for you and your sister."

"I suppose." Joe rumpled his hair. "But that still doesn't excuse why he had to run off to Zakum Altar all the time…As if we weren't rich enough." He slumped against the table.

"Your father was one of those people who couldn't sit still and rest." Dark Lord sat back in his chair. "He longed and thirsted for adventure and danger. He couldn't content himself with merely staying at home all the time. Your mother also shared this passionate desire for dangerous ventures as well." He fixed a serious look once more on his student. "This was why he trained you so harshly- so that you could take care of yourself in case he ever became incapacitated. He never hated you as much as you thought he did by forcing you to study alchemy."

Joe remained silent for some time. "Well, now that you put it like that…" He exhaled. "I can't really blame him anymore."

"Excellent." Dark Lord pressed his hands together. "Now, on to the more important part of our conversation. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't have called you here if it hadn't been for a little chat I had some time ago."

"Go on." Joe said, his eyes narrowing to suspicious slits.

"Athena asked me to adopt an heir…" Dark Lord began, his eyes focused on the hermit for a split second before he turned away. "…Oh, screw it. I've never been very good with formalities and I think you can see where this is going."

Formality or not, Joe was nevertheless very stunned. "Excuse me?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, or I'll stab you a dozen times before you even blink." he retorted. "I have no intention of formally training you at the moment, as I have personal matters of my own to tend to. Therefore, the responsibility of preparing yourself for your upcoming burden is yours alone." He took a book from his desk and handed it to the hermit, who riffled listlessly through it, glancing through the various artes, before sticking it in his pocket.

"Is that all you called me here for? To tell me that I'm the future leader of the thieves and casually shrug it off?" Joe said, recovering his composure.

"What, are you expecting a congratulatory gift or something?" Dark Lord snapped back, returning his attention to his sudoku puzzle.

Visibly chagrined at the direction the conversation was taking, Joe returned his knife to his belt and left rather forcibly through the door. Dark Lord merely glanced up at the boy out of the corner of his eye; he had had his problems, the thief lord knew full well, and he was perfectly obligated to bitch around if he wanted to, but he also had his responsibilities to his clan's artes, and Dark Lord hoped most of all that he would not forget that at a time like this.

He stared down at the sudoku puzzle a bit more before finally conceding defeat. "Fuck this." he muttered, crumpling up the sheet of paper and tossing it listlessly at the floor.

It was then that his keen eyes caught sight of the design the teenager had been carving in the wood during their conversation. Interestedly, he examined the intricate pattern.

It was an alchemic array. Smiling slightly under his breath, he ran his fingers across the symbol, and it glowed with a faint blue light as he did so. He shook his head and sighed wistfully, remembering his previous thoughts and hoping once more that Joseph wouldn't turn on him- turn on the world, even- by throwing away his responsibilities as a member of the Stalrigarde family.

-----

The sun shone brightly over the skies of Orbis; but then again, that wasn't surprising. The sun always glowed brightly over the airborne haven of the fairies, and in the rare cases when it didn't, something was definitely wrong. But for the moment, all was well, and the fairies floated around while the adventurers dashed around waving swords, preparing to exact revenge on the floating stone sentinels that populated Orbis Tower.

Rinalde Stalrigarde watched all this with a faint glimmer in her eye. Once upon a time, she could have been any one of those adventurers, hurling knives at passing stones in hopes of finding a decent treasure. But those days had long since passed. She was, after all, the sole heiress to her family's almost unrealistic fortune, and she definitely had no time for foolish things like hunting. There was the matter of selecting a suitable husband to spend the rest of her years with.

She turned away from the window and strode over to the mirror, examining her reflection. Her blonde bangs lay neatly brushed and combed, hanging over her shoulders. A series of pearls glimmered around her neck and her long, elegant dress trailed just slightly over the floor. Her hands, which at one time might have been hidden under a claw, were now adorned with white bridal gloves.

She gazed at her own image some more before turning away. She definitely looked the part of the stereotypical rich bride about to be married. Which, in essence, was actually true; she had actually met someone some time ago and fallen in love with him. His name was Calen; Calen Isidar, and when they had met, it was as though an instantaneous beam of understanding passed through them.

He was a tall, dark-haired warrior; a White Knight who carried a gigantic blade at his belt at all times. He was wealthy enough on his own and definitely had more than his share of handsomeness, but what touched her most of all was his kindness and understanding. It was comforting to know that there was someone that wasn't after her exorbitant wealth, and they had gotten engaged soon after meeting. They were to be married in a month, and Rinalde had taken the rather eccentric habit of wearing her wedding dress even before the occasion.

Under the circumstances, she should have been happy; she was rich, comfortable, and still relatively young, and she had found the perfect man whom she was going to marry in four weeks' time. And yet, still, there was a kind of void in her heart. She was missing something from her life; something that tugged at her heart and prevented her from enjoying utopian bliss. But what exactly was it?

Her thoughts were waylaid by a brisk knocking at her door; slightly panicked, she nearly jumped a foot into the air before remembering the exceedingly tight security surrounding the house. After she had calmed down considerably, she called, "Come in!" She saw the doorknob turn.

And then he walked through the door.

"Hello, Miss Rinalde." Joseph Stalrigarde stretched out his arms and looked patiently at his older sister. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"I…no, of course not." Rinalde blinked, making sure the figure in front of her wasn't a hallucination. "I must say, this is an unexpected surprise…What brings you here?"

"Do I need a reason to come visit my sister?" he returned, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, I can't think of anything that would entice you to leave Victoria and return to Ossyria to see me…" she said, returning his stare with a suspicious look of her own, "unless you wanted money, which I don't think you do since you had 700 mil at last count, or that you wanted to continue our family's perverted tradition of engaging incestuous couples to preserve the bloodline..."

"Oh hell no." The hermit tossed his head back and chuckled. "It's bad enough already. Anyway, I already heard that you were engaged some time ago." He returned his gaze to his sister and took off his cap. "What was his name- Caden something-or-other?"

"It's Calen…" she muttered.

"Whatever. Anyway, he's a prick." He shook his head. "I would have thought the heiress to the Stalrigarde fortune would have had better luck fishing in the sea."

"He is not a prick." she retorted, a hot flush creeping across her face. "He is a caring and loving human being, and he works very hard to have a successful life-"

"In other words, unlike you." He slid his hands into his pockets.

"I…shut up, Joseph!" she snapped, her face now a deep shade of red. "Well, he seems nice enough." Joe cast a glance at the ceiling. "Personally, I wouldn't mind having him as a brother-in-law…but he still looks like a jerk, if you know what I mean."

She ignored the comment and merely continued to stare red-faced at her brother, who broke the unnatural silence. "Would you mind going for a walk? You're like the proverbial princess locked up in that tower. You really need some fresh air."

"Um…" She walked over to a nearby closet. "I'll get my coat."

"Whatever floats your boat." he murmured as Rinalde came back, a great cloak billowing over her shoulders. Casting a slightly disdainful glance at his sister's extravagant attire, Joseph opened the door and both siblings ventured out.

In a way, she hated to admit it, but Joe was right. She had really needed some fresh air…and as she silently strolled down the paths of Orbis, she had to admit that this was really doing her a lot of good. The scent of fresh flowers, newly planted by the fairies, lingered in the air as their footsteps echoed across the stone ground, neither willing to break the rare and precious silence of the moment.

Finally, Rinalde turned to her brother, eight years younger and a head shorter than her. "What brings you from Victoria to Orbis after all these years?"

"Oh, I just…wanted to see you and the old home for a bit." He glanced at a nearby butterfly hovering in the air. "After all, you know what they say…Home is where the heart is."

"You're as bad a liar as ever, Joseph." Rinalde sighed. "For all I knew, you never cared about our home at all. I don't think you particularly enjoyed those moments when you were with our family."

His expression turned thoughtful and serious. "Perhaps, Rin."

He led her down the steps of Orbis Tower and paused at a large statue of a fairy, eyeing it. He sighed as he gazed upon it, and fingered the limestone almost longingly. "This is where…" His voice trailed off. "This is where we always went to get away from Dad."

"I know." A rare smile adorned her face as she stared at the statue. "We spent hours there at a time."

"You found it." He smiled back at her. "You were the one who found this place a long time ago, and I followed you."

"And then one thing led to another and it became your hiding place instead of mine." Rinalde raked a gloved hand delicately through her hair. "Those were good times, indeed. I don't remember a moment when you weren't hiding from Father when he was screaming at you to practice your artes."

"Yeah, well." He gazed once more at the crumbling statue. "I always looked up to you. I felt…I dunno, safer when I was with you. You were always Daddy's big girl and big sister. I felt…I could trust you."

"You actually trusted me?" Rinalde's eyes seemed to freeze for a second. "That's interesting to hear. When exactly did you stop doing so?"

He did not respond, gazing silently at the statue.

-----

_He paced frantically up and down the great halls of their house, wishing the pit in his stomach would go away. His parents had left early this morning, after telling him and his sister to get a good breakfast and practice their alchemy. And that was just what he had done, scrawling chalk arrays on the ground outside and rearranging the elements in the air and earth to his heart's content._

_Then they came; two dark-clothed men who had arrived at the door and asked to speak with his sister. She had answered the door and went to talk with the men; after a few words which he didn't understand, her face hardened slightly and she ushered him quickly out of the room. It had been about an hour and she still hadn't come back. He began to grow slightly frightened. Where was his sister? Or for that matter, his parents?_

_Then suddenly, he saw her; her blonde locks trailing in the air as she stepped out from the room with a stone expression. There was something in her face that didn't bode well. He ran up to her. "What were those two men talking about? Where's Mom and Dad? They said they'd be back by three and it's already six..."_

_Her eyes were devoid of emotion as she gazed at her brother. "They're gone."_

_"Gone?" His eyes were wide, almost pleading, as he stared back up at her. "What do you mean-"_

_"They're not going to be coming back, Joseph." She spoke the words calmly as though she was discussing the weather. "They're dead."_

_"Wh-what do you-" His head suddenly grew unbearably hot, and his eyes began to ache. Suddenly, his cheeks felt wet, and he realized he couldn't stop the tears. "No! You're lying! Where's our parents?!"_

_"I told you already, they're dead." she snapped in a curt tone. "Why are you crying? You never cared much about them. You hated the way they used to force you to study your alchemy lessons..."_

_"But they're still our parents!" he retorted, his ten-year-old hands balling into fists._

_"They never cared much about us- or you, for that matter." she said, her tone slightly softer but just as impassive as ever. "All they ever did was run off to Zakum Altar all the time and complain and complain about alchemy and our heritage. They never bothered to care about us. Why should we care about them?"_

_"I-" Words failed him as he stared up at the woman that he used to call his sister. "How can you say something like that?!" he shouted in a sad and angry tone, tears brimming from his eyes as he stared up at her. She steadily looked away from him, her eyes gazing out the window._

_"Even after what they did…" he snarled. "They were still Mom and Dad! How can you stand there and not care about them? You have to care! Say something, Rin!" He tugged pleadingly at her sleeve._

_She only gazed at her brother and snapped, "I don't care, Joseph."_

_He finally realized then that she really didn't._

-----

"After our parents died…" Joseph sighed, his hands still in his pockets as they walked away from the statue. "You weren't the sister I knew anymore. It was like…someone stole your soul. You grew increasingly distant and you refused to study your alchemy. You wouldn't pay attention to me anymore."

"I'm not denying that." Rinalde merely said, her eyes wistfully gazing at her brother.

"You spent more time counting our money and wandering off to the bars after night than taking care of me." His gaze sharpened. "Once, I found you lying in the family vault completely drunk. You didn't wake up for two days!"

"I'm not trying to support or defend my actions." she replied impassively, her footsteps echoing across the stone halls.

"Then why did you do them?!" he snapped at her. "That's the one thing I never understood about you, Rin- out of all the people on this earth, my sister just had to be the one without a soul! How do you think I felt after our parents died? I needed a role model and a caretaker and you didn't give me either of them!"

Rinalde merely gave her brother a glazed look. "Did you come all this way just to get me to apologize for things I did several years ago?"

"I trusted you!" he snapped, his voice beginning to break a little. "Even after all that, I still trusted and loved you! And you treated me like dirt! Did I ever mean anything to you, Rin?"

-----

_He stared at his sister as she slowly packed, folding her clothes neatly and stacking them before puttng them one by one in the elegant suitcase. Every detail in the room caught his attention; the dim rays of the sunset streaming through the window, the unnatural silence of the room as he watched. The room had an almost lifeless atmosphere to it._

_"Are...we going anywhere, Rin?" Joseph asked, continuing to watch his sister._

_"As a matter of fact, yes, we are." Rinalde looked up and gave her brother a rare smile, but he knew that it was only a façade. It was only a face in the mask she had been wearing for three years. "You and I will be going somewhere soon."_

_"Where are we going? Is it a vacation?" he asked timidly. He had sorely wanted a vacation- anything to get away from the bleak and uncaring side of her._

_"I met with someone today." She continued to look at him with that strange glint in her eyes. "It seems that a great opportunity has presented itself for your future. There is a wealthy couple in Victoria Island without a child. Apparently, they are in need of a son to raise and educate and I accepted their kind offer. Starting tomorrow, you'll be sent to their home to live until you're my age."_

_It was as though his entire world had shattered at that point; as though his heart had imploded upon itself and faded to nothing. "Wh...what?" he stammered, refusing to believe the words that had come from his sister's mouth. "You mean...I'll be adopted? Taken away?"_

_"I suppose there's no point in trying to mince words. Yes, you will be adopted and taken away." Rinalde turned away from her brother and continued to pack. It was then, as Joseph strained his eyes, that he realized that she wasn't packing her own clothes._

_She was packing his._

_"No!" His hands clenched into furious fists; he could feel his fingernails cutting into his palm, but he didn't care. "Why? You're old enough to take care of me now! Why do I have to leave?!"_

_"The Lenards are going to send you to the highest school in Victoria Island." she said casually, continuing on with her labor. "Did I not mention that they are very wealthy? You won't be missing out on anything there that you could have here."_

_"B-but..." Tears of crimson fell from his hands. "It's not the same! I...I don't want to go!"_

_"Use your head, Joseph." Rinalde waved her hand around the room. "Take a look at this place. I'm a grown woman now and I have my own duties to take care of. I can't take care of you anymore. There's no future for you in this house. You'll receive the highest level of education and you'll be able to study your alchemy more often. What more do you need?"_

_"You." he snarled, the pain in his hands finally reaching him. "You and I are here, together. Does that even mean anything to you, sis?"_

_"That's not what's most important here." she said impassively, closing the suitcase with a click. "Stop acting like a child, Joseph. I only want you to have a better future."_

_"You're the only family I have!" he cried, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. "How could you do something like this to me?!" He continued to stare almost hysterically at his sister. "Answer me, Rin! Why?!"_

_Rinalde fell silent for a moment. "Joseph...in the end, you and I will be better off this way."_

_He froze, his sadness slowly melting into anger. "Fine. If that's the way you want it, Miss Stalrigarde...then I won't waste your time in staying here any longer." He stomped over to her, yanked the suitcase off of the bed, and lugged it out the door._

-----

"After that, they came to take me away." He stared wistfully at the stones that floated about them as they walked. "I...haven't seen you for four years since."

"Are you saying that you actually missed me?" she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Did I give you any reason to believe that I did?" he replied in the same tone.

"Then, just what have you come here for?" she returned, her tone placidly sweet. "I know you didn't just come here for a visit..."

Joseph felt his blood slowly simmer in his veins as her stared at his sister's smirk. "You still don't care, do you?!" His hands closed into fists once more. "Even after all those years, you still haven't changed..."

"Did you expect me to?" Rinalde folded her arms across her chest. "If it makes you feel better, then by all means, continue to shout at me."

"You're..." Joseph could feel the heat flowing to his head. "You're atrocious, Rin. I should never have come to see you..."

"Then why did you?" she said, continuing to smile at him sweetly.

"I..." The teenager stared at the woman before him, words failing him. "I can't believe I thought there might still be some good in you after all of these years. I've had enough of you." With that, he turned and stomped away from her.

Rinalde wistfully watched him leave. The strange feeling still gnawed at her heart- she still hadn't been able to ascertain the reason he had come all the way from Victoria Island to see her after those four years. Was it really as he had said- to test her emotions only to find them as hard and as stone as ever?

Then again, she had seen the genuine look in his eyes- she knew her own brother better than that. He certainly couldn't have bothered to make the journey across the continent just to visit her- he obviously had some other purpose in mind, but what?

Perhaps she could ask him later. Ignoring the voice in her head that told her how insensitive she had sounded a minute ago, she looked about her. They had ended up walking about halfway down Orbis Tower and she could backtrack the way she had came.

There was a sudden whirring noise behind her and she whipped around in time to see a stone Sentinel, flying at her.

Swiftly, Rinalde sidestepped the guardian with the remnants of her thieves' training; she raised a palm and commanded, "Alchemist!" A silvery-blue array of magical force appeared on her palm as a wave of ethereal lightning struck the Sentinel to bits.

She wiped her forehead in relief only to realize that more Sentinels had surrounded her. Panicking slightly, she looked around and counted a dozen of them. In the old days, she might have stood a chance against them in combat, but her current attire, not to mention her disuse of alchemy, left her vulnerable to attack.

One Sentinel opened its maw and fired a burst of lightning at her; she deftly rolled out of the way, slightly tearing her dress, only to see another bolt of lightning strike the ground unnervingly close to her. Swearing, she pressed her hands together and uttered, "Dark Sight!" She felt the dark shadows rise up from the ground and envelop her under the cover of darkness, the spell expertly refracting the light around her to make her barely visible. She seized the chance for escape and staggered to her feet, dashing up the stairs of Orbis Tower. However, as she quickly realized, the arcane spell she had activated greatly decreased her speed, threatening to drag her down into the shadows.

She had a second's warning before she found herself flying face-forward, having tripped over a stray piece of rubble. She hit the ground with a painful thud, the shadowy arte slowly dispersing, leaving her prone figure fully visible as Sentinels crowded around her.

"Oh. Shit." she muttered, lying on the ground. She dared not make a move, lest she risk being blown to bits by the robotic monsters. Swiftly, her mind perused her library of alchemic artes, but all except the most simple spells eluded her, and there was no way for her to escape unscathed from this situation.

The Sentinels whirred and floated closer, preparing to strike.

"Bow down to the might of the alchemists! Force Transmutation!"

The ground shook as a blue-white alchemic array appeared beneath her, creeping across the floor and up the walls of the tower, covering the sufrace of the stone with intricate patterns of light. Suddenly, the ground began to crack and shake as bolts of light pierced through the stone floor, skewering all the Sentinels in the area and encasing Rinalde in a bright cage of light.

"Rin!" The light faded and she looked up to see Joseph running towards her, his feet skidding along the ground. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm...fine." She was in shock, but more from her brother's sudden behavior than the pain.

"Come on." He helped her to her feet and murmured a quick spell. "Alchemist." She felt her wounds healing as he mended the flesh and closed it up.

"That should hold." he said, taking her hand. "What matters is that we get you out of here as soon as possible." He let her lean against him as he supported her, carefully guiding her out of the tower. During the whole time, Rinalde's mind was in a dazed state, questions floating around her brain.

Why had he turned back to come for her? Even after all the things she had said and done?

She was determined to find out.

When they returned to the house, he led her up the stairs and into her room, laying her comfortably on the bed. She lay there silently as he healed her wounds in earnest, carefully piecing together any injured fragments. As an afterthought, he repaired her torn dress with alchemy as well.

"That should save you the trouble of buying a new one." he said, somewhat dryly, when he was done. "Why did you...save me?" she asked.

He gave her a knowing look. "Because you're my sister."

"I didn't deserve it." She sighed and sat up, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I should never have said those things to you..."

"It doesn't matter, Rin." He waved the matter away. "All that matters is that you're safe and sound."

He still cared about her, though she had given up on caring for him...and even after she had treated him so horribly, he had never stopped believing in her.

"Joseph..." She suddenly took him in a hug, catching him by surprise. "I'm so sorry...for everything I've done to you..." He felt her wet, hot tears slide down his cheeks. "Please...forgive me..."

He pushed her away gently. "That's fine, Rin." he said, quietly. "We're siblings, and I'm not going to let that come between us."

Silence fell between them, although it was comfortable now.

"You know..." She wiped a tear from her eye. "That was an amazing arte you pulled off back there. When did you learn it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You honestly don't know?"

"I..."

"You taught it to me, ten years ago." He smiled at her and gently took her hand in his. "I've been practicing it ever since."

"Ah, now I remember." She smiled sadly. "The Force Transmutation. I gave up learning that years ago...but you went ahead and did it anyway." She sighed. "I've been a horrible role model for you these past few years..."

"You got that right." He stared out the window.

She resisted the urge to reply and instead followed his gaze outside to where the sun was shining brightly. "You know..." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind knowing your original reason for coming here now."

He turned and gazed at her. "I just thought you might want to know that Dark Lord made me the heir to the leader of the thieves."

"You..." Rinalde clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my god! That's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He smiled. "But that's not the reason why I came." He took a small package from his pocket and laid it in her hand. "I wanted to give you this for a wedding present. I want you to open it on the altar."

"You-you actually bought me a wedding ring?" she stammered. "How did you know that was what I was looking for?"

"I guessed." he shrugged. "I wanted to save you the trouble of picking one out."

"I..." She stared at him, and she suddenly realized that was what she had been missing the whole time.

A brother's love.

"You know..." she murmured. "I wouldn't mind having you at the wedding."

"I wouldn't mind being there." he replied, returning her faint smile.

-----

The town of Henesys was a peaceful, stable, village, founded eons ago by a band of elven bowmen traveling from the forest of Sleepywood across Victoria Island. Over time, the humans and elves had learned to accept one another, the latter even sharing their archery abilities with the former. Despite the occasional incident of a Stone Golem escaping from a nearby temple every once in a while, Henesys was situated far from any danger and was one of the most peaceful locations in the world of Bera.

That peace had gone out the window ever since Gault Isentryx had attacked.

Under the command of Athena Pierce and the other wisemen, the little town of Henesys had been reformed into the stronghold fortress of Elaesia, named after the original name of the united continent before it had split apart to form the various islands and countries that made up Bera. The survivors from the destroyed cities of Perion, Ellinia, and Kerning City had quickly banded together and formed an army under the the guidance of Athena. Every available person that could hold a weapon had been conscripted into the Elaesian Armed Forces, divided into four main squadrons- Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta. One for each of the four base classes.

Even the legendary Devil Children, feared throughout the town of Henesys, were no exception.

"What do you suppose Athena wants to talk to us about?" Arundale sighed as she made her way through the crowds of people milling in the streets, either carrying a weapon or supplies.

"Isn't it obvious? She's packing us off into the army like the rest of them." Tales shrugged. "Perhaps, but I doubt we would be sent to the frontlines." Igzarion mused.

Tales and Arundale paused to eye him for a fraction of a second. "What do you mean by that, Iggy?" Arklanser cut in.

"Think about it." Igzarion continued in his bluntly logical tone. "We've been childhood friends with Gault since...well, forever. Obviously, Athena knows this-"

"Athena was the only one that ever really knew us." Tales replied in the same blunt tone.

"Yes, and I was getting to that." Igzarion said, shooting a glare at the sniper before continuing on. "She knows us- and our powers- all too well. For a bunch of four bowmen, we possess elemental abilities strong enough to match that of a mage's-"

"I think that was the reason why she dubbed us the Devil Children in the first place." Arklanser said, somewhat dryly.

"She likely intends to use us as covert weapons against Gault." Igzarion concluded, pretending to not have been interrupted. "It makes the most sense from a logical standpoint- Gault is a psychologist's nightmare and she intends to use the ones who know the most about him in order to defeat him."

"But we don't know that much about him." Tales said. "Well, aside from the fact that he wants to take over the world and conduct a mass genocide of non-bowmen."

"Let's just hope Athena will explain it." Igzarion said stoically, pushing open the door to said bowmistress' office.

The leader of the bowmen sat behind her desk, wearing a pair of reading glasses, calmly writing something on a piece of paper with a quill pen. She studied the writing for a moment, chewing the end of the quill uneasily, before setting it down. "Sinclaire!" she barked out, causing the Devil Children to jump slightly.

As if on cue, an auburn-haired ranger, whose shoulder-length hair was more red than brown, pushed open the door, a Golden Nisrock stuck in his quiver. He cast a glance at Tales, Igzarion, Arundale, and Arklanser before turning his attention to the bowmistress. "Yes, Athena?"

"Ah, Captain." She handed him the piece of paper she'd been writing on. "This is an order for your units to deploy to the rainforest. Although it will disrupt the nature of the ecosystem there, I want the rainforest cleared by afternoon. We're going to need more ground if we intend to train our troops effectively."

"Consider it done." The ranger nodded, sticking the note in his pocket. "Oh, hey." he said, turning to the four as though he had just noticed them for the first time. "I'm Captain Luke Sinclaire of Alpha Division, Epsilon Regiment..." His gaze fluttered to Arklanser. "And who might you be, my fiery beauty?"

Not even Igzarion could resist a smile as Arklanser's face turned the color of her hair. "I'll have you know that my name is Delinia Arklanser..." She shot a fiery glare at him. "And don't you have a rainforest to clear?"

Sinclaire stepped back a pace with an expression of mock fear. "Playing tough to get, huh?" He clicked his tongue. "Don't worry, Delly, I'll be in touch." He winked at her before disappearing through the door.

"My apologies." Athena's voice brought the four to their senses. "Sinclaire is rather notorious among his regiment for his exploits in the opposite sex. That aside, though, I can't deny that he is an excellent ranger if need be." She sighed and pushed aside the pile of paperwork, her eyes fixed upon the four bowmen before her. "Rysdale, Natalia, Traphes, and Delinia. It's good to see you four again."

"The same to you, Athena." Tales nodded briefly. "Would you mind explaining the reason you sent for us?"

"In due time, I will." She removed her glasses and set them on the desk. "As you very well know, there was an instance of combat yesterday near Sleepywood between our forces and Gault Isentryx's. This act of aggression has provoked us into a state of war and as you can see, neccessitated the formation of Elaesia and the rapid-reaction forces." 

"Is this about us being inducted into the army?" Tales sniffed. "Because if you want us to, we'll gladly put on uniforms and rampage along with the rest of them-" 

She cut him off. "No, Rysdale. I have a special task for you four, given the scope of your…abilities"

"What is this task?" Igzarion asked.

"In the previous battle, we reported instances of seeing ghostly, shadowy human-like figures among Isentryx's troops." Her gaze turned serious. "This can only mean one thing; that he is resorting to a forbidden branch of alchemy, soul transmutation. Using this technique, he is able to revive souls from the dead and bring them into battle."

"You mean...he can bring people back to life?" Arundale said, uneasily.

"Alchemy is a branch of magic discovered long ago by the elves." Athena replied. "Unlike traditional magic, which has countless laws, theorems, and corollaries to govern its use, alchemy is totally different. While alchemy has several sub-laws as well, they can all be bent to some degree, as long as one obeys the absolute principle of Equivalent Exchange. In order to gain something, something of equal value must be sacrificed first. Soul transmutation in particular involves using energy- a great amount of energy- to summon a soul back from the netherworld. Because of the great amount of energy involved, soul transmutation cannot be done on one's own. It requires a sacrifice of life energy."

"But…" Igzarion considered the implications of Athena's statement. "How was Gault able to summon an army's worth of souls from the netherworld without seriously doing harm to himself?"

"That is strictly speculation," Athena said, her eyes becoming rather misty, "although I do have a few theories. Perhaps he was able to use a magical catalyst to reduce the arcane reaction needed to summon the souls. Perhaps he was able to use other sources of mana or energy to fuel the spell. We can only guess, but that is irrelevant. It is my fear that if Gault is able to summon souls from the dead, he may also be able to control demons- and given that demons are pure mana in concentrated form, if he is able to take even one under his control, the results could be disastrous."

"And where do we come into play?" Tales asked, rubbing his temples.

Athena sighed. "That is up to Gardner. I sent him on special leave to find Gault and find out whether or not our theories are correct. If they are, then that is when you come in."

"Do you think Gardner will be able to deal with Gault?" Arklanser asked worriedly.

Athena shook her head. "Isentryx may be a formidable foe, and he may have several forbidden and necromantic artes at his disposal, but he is still only a Ranger. Rathias is a Bowmaster, not to mention that he taught Gault many of his abilities. It would be a close fight, but I have confidence in Rathias' abilities."

"Let's hope so." Tales shook his head darkly. "Is that all you wanted to talk to us about?"

"For the moment, yes." Athena stood up and bowed shortly. "However, I do not wish you to leave the perimeter of the area. Gardner may well come back at any moment."

"Understood." All four returned the bow and stood up to leave. However, just as Tales was about to leave, Athena stopped him. "Wait, Rysdale."

He turned around. "Yes, Athena?"

The bowmistress sighed. "I was deeply sorry to hear about Lauranthalas. I hope you're not-"

"It was all right." He sighed. "I wouldn't have wanted her to suffer any more than she already did for my sake."

"Come here." He ventured forward, obeying her, and Athena slowly pulled up his sleeve, exposing the blackened serpent, branded upon his shoulder. As she touched it, it seemed to snort and move, as though it were alive.

"The mark of the necromancer." She sighed. "I am surprised that Gault let you live."

"I'm not going to return the favor." he snarled, drawing his sleeve back down and adjusting his glasses.

Athena let go of his sleeve. "Rysdale, take care of yourself."

"I will." The sniper turned on his heel and walked steadily away.

-----

"It seems that I am at the right place after all..."

These were the words Rathias Gardner barely had time to utter before a figure of shadow leaped at him, death in its otherwise emotionless eyes. Without faltering, he raised his palm, light beginning to glow from it. "Astatos!"

There was a burst of vicious cobalt-white lightning as the figure disappeared in a explosion of dark smoke. Gardner sighed and sheathed his Shinebow. _I won't need it for now. These souls are easy enough to deal with on my own._ He continued onwards towards the dungeon.

The Ant Tunnel, normally bustling with excited travelers hoping to get a bit of battle experience, was empty save for the monsters. Ever since the introduction of the shadowy souls, no doubt summoned by Isentryx's necromancy, no one dared to venture in the dungeon anymore.

"He still resides in the Sanctuary…" he muttered softly. "You would've thought he had learned his lesson by now…" Two more shadows lunged at him; he deftly dodged their incoming assault and raised a hand. "Thunder Spear!" A great shaft of lightning materialized in his hand; swinging it in a wide arc, he struck his assailants head-on, causing them to disappear in flashes of smoke.

_Soul transmutation…the forbidden arte of eld, and the one that started the ancient war…_

Once more, he was on his way to confront Isentryx- but under totally different circumstances. This time, despite whatever emotion he felt, he was under direct orders from Athena to kill if need be- and he was not going to grudge that duty if it meant that further bloodshed could be avoided.

"Fire Phoenix!" An inferno-colored feral bird burst from thin air in a flash of flame. Mounting it, Gardner soared into the depths of the Sanctuary, leaving a thin trail of fiery feathers behind as he flew.

He burst from the dark tunnels into a dim light- the entrance of the Sanctuary. Once more, it had been refitted with a new door, seemingly impregnable. Nevertheless, he walked unfazed up to the great door.

_I'll be damned if I don't know Isentryx after all those years…_ He placed his hand on the great lock of the magical door and uttered a few words under his breath. At once, the door sprang to life, parting slowly as the gears that drove the door whirred with a faint humming noise.

The next thing he knew, Rathias Gardner found himself surrounded by hordes of blood-thirsty Tauros and Crimson Balrogs, ready to tear him to shreds.

_Damn! A trap! _Cursing himself, Gardner quickly drew his Shinebow. "Dragon Pulse!" Bolts of lightning flashed about the Bowmaster as he let his attack fly, the great burst of lightning illuminating the gigantic cavern and incinerating a row of his foes. A Taurospear charged at him only to be struck down as he killed it with a burst of lightning; he dashed past, knowing that Gault was behind this gigantic horde of monsters.

"Fire Phoenix!" Once more, he called the great bird forth in a flash of flame and climbed atop of it, soaring above the heads of the bewildered Tauros below. A Crimson Balrog soared up to meet him, its eyes glittering a vicious blood-red as it aimed a bolt of dark lightning at him.

"Puppet!" His ward easily blocked the bolt of energy; raising his hand, he commanded, "Thunder Spear!" The great shaft of lightning materialized in his hands once more; with two swift strokes of the great weapon, the Balrog fell in bloody thirds to the ground below.

Undaunted, he saw another flock of Balrogs fly up towards him, determined to prevent him from going any further into the chamber before him. Expertly guiding the phoenix through the demons' clutches, Gardner lashed out and cut at them every which way, occasionally doing barrel rolls in midair to avoid the bolts of lightning that spewed forth from the Balrogs' claws.

_Dammit, I don't have time for this! Who knows what Gault could be doing at this moment?! _He swung his spear and pointed it at the horde of Crimson Balrogs following him, suddenly turning the phoenix about in midair so that the pursuers suddenly became the pursued.

"I have to congratulate you guys for pushing me this far…" the bowmaster snarled. "Unfortunately, it'll be the last praise you ever receive!" He stood on the phoenix's back, refusing to flinch as the whole crowd of Balrogs soared towards him.

"Dragon Buster!" Gardner roared, soaring straight into the horde of demons and impaling three through the chest immediately. Without pausing, he turned around in midair and soared back into the clutch of Balrogs, his spear raised once more. "Dragon Fury!" Several more demons fell lifelessly to the ground, felled by the bowmaster's deadly strikes. Time and time again, Gardner ripped through the crowd of Balrogs as though they were sitting ducks, tearing through them mercilessly with every thrust of his spear.

Finally, when the last demon had fallen to the ground below, the bowmaster wiped sweat from his head and let the spear disappear into thin air. "Seles…I have to thank you some time for teaching me that."

He bowed his head against the wind and guided the phoenix deeper into the bowels of the Sanctuary.

-----

Deep in the great Sanctuary, the atmosphere was dark- well, exceptionally dark, considering the circumstances. Countless Crimson Balrogs and Tauros were arranged in a great circular pattern in utter silence, while countless more were silently watching the proceedings. Not a living being dared to move in the great cavern of the ancient city, save for one. Although the figure was human- short compared to the beasts surrounding him- he seemed to wield absolute power within the circle

_"You! You're out of position! Did I not stress the utmost importance of preparation in this arte?!"_

Before anyone could make a move, there was a blinding flash of darkness- as if the surrounding area wasn't already dark enough- and there was the sound of a limp body hitting the ground with a wet thud. Snarling, the human ordered another shivering Crimson Balrog to take the other's place. There was a religious silence in the room- although the act about to be committed was anything but.

The human walked around the great circle of demons and beasts a few times before finally returning to the center of the circle, apparently satisfied. He chanted a few words in an ancient language, and suddenly thrust his hand downwards onto the ground, his palm meeting the stone floor with a great thud.

_Ancient demons of the underworld, grant me thy strength and powers…Aid me in my quest to revive the souls of the dead…_

"No!"

The cry rang out through the hall. Several of the beasts turned their heads, but Gault did not falter at all, continuing on with the spell as though nothing was happening.

"Gault, stop this foolishness at once!" Gardner bellowed, his Shinebow in hand. "Do you even know what you're doing?!"   
_  
Revive the sins of the netherworld and unleash them upon our lands! _An alchemic array began to spread from Gault's hands, spreading across the floor and enveloping the Sanctuary in an eerie light.

_Damn it! Isentryx… _Gardner raised his Shinebow to the air. "Dragon Pulse!" The attack soared straight for Gault only to be deflected by an invisible barrier, creating a shower of sparks as it bifurcated around the dark ranger. Gardner swore, raising his bow once more. "Arrow Vanquisher!"

Bolts of cobalt-blue lightning rained down from the air, impaling several of the monsters and demons below, but Gault remained unfazed, continuing to chant his spell. As Gardner watched in horror, a dark pit began to open up in the floor; something dark was rising from it.

_No! He's trying to summon a demon…or worse! I have to stop him! _He charged straight for Gault, lightning spear in hand, and slammed the arcane shaft against Gault, only to be deflected by the same invisible barrier. He's erected wards around himself. I can't touch him like this…He slammed the weapon against Gault again and again, hoping to weaken his guard.

All to no avail; Gault continued to chant his spell, the portal upon the floor only expanding. The figure began to rise from the portal; Gardner could see that it was a human figure, with long hair-

A bolt of lightning suddenly whizzed at him, flung by a nearby Taurospear, and he dived out of the way, the attack narrowly missing him. He cursed himself and swiveled his spear around to face his attacker. "Dragon Buster!" He drove the gigantic weapon straight through the Taurospear, also blasting several other monsters from the resulting wave of energy. He turned around to see more Crimson Balrogs, flying at him. He raised his spear and bellowed, "Impaling Heaven!" Waves of light erupted from the tip of his spear, slicing neatly through the demons as they flew at him; but there seemed no end to the enemies, and he realized that he could no longer see Gault through the thicket of monsters.

That does it. He dropped the spear and drew his Shinebow, a sphere of green energy gathering at the haft of the great weapon. He aimed at the crowd of monsters as they poured towards him. "Hurricane!"

Great bursts of wind blades flew from his hands and viciously tore through the demons as they charged at him, rending the great beasts into bloody pieces. Furiously, Gardner concentrated his attack, blowing through the great wall of enemies with his elemental ability.

He let the bow fall to his side as he surveyed the carnage about him; countless bodies of Tauros and Balrogs littered the ground, but there was no sign of Gault anywhere.

"_Damn it!_" Gardner fell to his knees amidst the bloody ruins of the Sanctuary; while he had been preoccupied with fending the monsters off, Gault had performed his transmutation and had managed to escape.

_I've failed in my duties yet again…_

-----

"Thunder Spear!" Zeraion Phoenix roared, the great shaft of lightning forming in his hands as he twirled it through the air. With a shout, he brought the point of the great weapon down upon his adversary, a sword-wielding crusader.

"Power Guard!" Ryden countered the attack and lashed out with a slash of his own, knocking the bowman off balance for a moment. Quickly, Zeraion spun on his feet to face the swordsman. "Inferno!"

Ryden held up his blade to guard, the bolt of flame bifurcating harmlessly around the great sword. "Sword Rain!" He furiously lashed out with the great blade, unleashing a series of stabs in rapid succession. Undaunted, Zeraion twirled the spear rapidly in midair, guarding against each stab with the handle of the weapon.

"You know, you could really pass for a Dark Knight with those skills." Ryden said, clearly impressed with his opponent.

"You could pass for a Hero with yours." Zeraion merely replied in a blunt tone, before swinging the spear downwards and piercing the ground with it. "Astatos!"

Lightning burst from the ground underneath Ryden's feet, who barely managed to guard it with a swing of his sword. "Not bad, Zer." He swung the huge blade forward in a large arc, dealing a succession of blows to the bowman, who guarded the strikes with the frame of his bow.

"Now for this…" Ryden raised his blade and closed his eyes. "Dance Macabre!"

Zeraion had a moment's warning before something crashed into him at high speed. Glancing to his side, he saw Ryden charging at him again for another assault. Frantically, his eyes tried to keep up with Ryden's movements as he swung his sword every which way, occasionally forcing Zeraion to summon a replica to guard against the damage. In the end, Ryden raised his sword high into the air and slammed the weapon against his guard with such force that Zeraion skidded backwards several yards and hit a tree rather forcibly.

"Keiga Seles!" A red-haired ranger burst from behind a nearby tree. "Is that really you, the legendary Dark Knight?"

"Yes, that is my name," Seles said, barely batting an eyebrow, "although I would appreciate it if you would tell me yours so I can decide whether to kill you or not."

The ranger blinked, nonplussed, before glancing at Zeraion and Ryden. "Oh, right, the special training…" He coughed and cleared his throat. "My sincerest apologies, sir. I am Captain Luke Sinclaire of Alpha Division, Epsilon Regiment. I was sent by Athena to request the presence of a certain sword-crusader…" He glanced at Ryden. "Ryden, son of Dracon."

"Yes, that's me." Ryden deactivated Dragon Trigger, returning to his normal form, and sheathing his katana. "What does Athena want?"

"Beats me." Sinclaire shrugged his shoulders. "But she sounded pretty urgent about it too."

"Alright. I'll go with you, then. See you next time, Zer." Ryden slowly followed after the captain, leaving Seles and Zeraion alone.

"Well, seeing as how Ryden has left us for now, I don't believe there will be much use in staying here any longer." Seles shrugged his shoulders. "I would suggest that you return to Elaesia, Zeraion. Perhaps Gardner will be back from his mission by now."

"Mission?" Zeraion blinked. "So that's why he wasn't here…What kind of mission was it?"

"It's not my place to tell you. You can ask him yourself." With that, Seles walked away from the confused ranger, letting the forest swallow him up.

"What the…" Zeraion shrugged. "Oh well. I guess I'd better follow his advice for now."

-----

Slowly, Zeraion Phoenix walked along the streets of Elaesia, marveling at the change in the atmosphere. While previously, Henesys had been a quiet, peaceful town, the place now looked like Omega Sector more than anything else. Large stone buildings reminiscent of Kerning City now decorated the landscape next to the humble houses of Henesys. Warriors, bowmen, magicians, and thieves crowded the streets in equal measure, a large number of them wearing rather promiscuous uniforms that looked like they were in some kind of military regime.

_Where the hell's Gardner?_ The ranger strained his eyes, but saw no sign of the amber-haired bowmaster. I should probably go see Athena. Although the town was somewhat unrecognizable because of the construction of new buildings, Zeraion was still able to navigate his way through crowds of excited people and find Athena's tree-house; or rather, glass-domed fortress now.

As he pushed open the doors of the building, he could see Ryden briefly talking to Athena, accompanied by Capt. Sinclaire, the ranger from before. In another corner of the room, he could see Gardner conversing with Tales, Arundale, Igzarion, and Arklanser.

"Gardner!" Zeraion ran over to the bowmaster. He was startled somewhat by the man's appearance; he looked somewhat worn, tired, and ill. He acknowledged the ranger's presence with a nod, but little else.

"Phoenix." Zeraion turned to see Tales faintly smiling at him. "Good to see you're in one piece for once."

"Thanks. What were you talking about just now?"

The Devil Children exchanged looks. "Gardner just came back from a mission, and he's reporting the results." Igzarion said shortly.

"What exactly was your mission?" Zeraion asked, turning to Gardner. "Seles mentioned something about that too..."

"I was sent out to gather information on Isentryx's forces." Gardner said stoically. Zeraion blinked, surprised; even though the bowmaster was an expert at concealing his emotions, it was obvious that he was withholding something that troubled him greatly.

"I…" Zeraion decided not to pursue the issue further. "How have you guys been?" he finally said, turning to the other four.

"Well, not much happened, aside from Sinkhead trying to seduce Delly…" Tales chuckled.

"Who are Sinkhead and-"

"I told you to stop calling me that, you asshole!" Arklanser snapped, slapping Tales across the face. He stepped back before adjusting his glasses on his nose, still chuckling.

"Never mind…I don't think I want to know." Zeraion sighed. "What are you four doing in here anyway? Did you get conscripted?"

"Not exactly…" Igzarion muttered.

"You guys are so informative." Zeraion snapped, before striding away.

"You four." Athena's voice interrupted the impromptu silence that followed. "I want to speak with you for a moment."

"Yes, Athena?" Tales said, still rubbing his cheek.

"I've assigned a special mission to you four." She scribbled something on a sheet of paper and handed it to the sniper. "Right now, we have several captains on duty in our forces, but it stands to reason that we need another. Our Beta division could use the help."

"So we have to go on a recruiting spree?" Igzarion asked.

"Not exactly." Athena's gaze sharpened. "I was speaking to Ryden a moment ago. He agreed to enlist in the Beta division as a lieutenant colonel, but we need another warrior to fill the ranks. That is why I need you four to find…Aslan Seles."

"Who?"

"Here." Athena took a picture from her desk and handed it to Tales. "I think this will clear a few things up."

"This is Dariel Marron…" Tales said, examining the picture. "Are you saying that Marron is related to Seles in some way?"

"I only found it out for myself recently." Athena shrugged. "In any case, whether it be Dariel Marron or Aslan Seles, the fact stands that he single-handedly held back Gault's forces at the initial assault some days ago, and it stands that his presence would greatly raise morale among the troops."

"Where could Marron be?" Igzarion cut in. "I would think that he already enlisted in the forces by now, given his position."

"He became rather agitated over a trivial matter some days ago." Athena said delicately. "It is up to you four to find him and bring him back. Without him, I fear that we have little hope of winning the battles that are to come."

"I see." Tales nodded. "All right, Athena. We'll get right on it." He turned away and walked out the door, followed by the other three rangers.

"Is she freakin' kidding?" Igzarion spat once they were out of earshot. "Looking for Marron…He could be in Ossyria by now for all we know. This is looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack."

"Well, we have to start somewhere…" Tales said, drawing his crossbow. "And it would help if you started not being a prick."

A vein in the ranger's head bulged, but he ignored the sniper's jab. He deserved it, after all.

Slowly, the Devil Children left Henesys and ventured out onto the barren fields of Victoria Island, in search for Keiga Seles' son and the future hero of the Elaesian Armed Forces.

-----

"Athena, I haven't seen you in years." Zeraion Phoenix said calmly, addressing his former teacher. As he looked at her, she seemed older and worn, like Gardner. He supposed it was the stress of running a country more or less on her own.

"Zeraion." She barely glanced up at him; he sighed. Athena had always seemed to fear making eye contact with him, for some reason. "I hope Rathias is treating you well."

"Yes, he is." Zeraion lay back in his chair rather impolitely, but Athena made no move to reprimand him. "The situation with Gault is really bad, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately, that's true." Athena sat up and riffled through a stack of papers on her desk. "We're exhausting all our resources at the moment trying to prime ourselves for a future attack. Your friends at The Resistance were conscripted into the Elaesian forces as well."

"I…see." Zeraion stood up. "Athena, I'd like to help."

"What?" She blinked at him, her quill leaking a few drops of ink over the desk.

"I want to enlist in the Elaesian Armed Forces." he said bluntly. "It's my responsibility to fight Gault someday, and I'll only be turning away from my duty if I don't do what I'm supposed to do."

"I appreciate your candor, Zeraion," Athena said, regaining her composure, "but that is not possible at the moment."

"What?!" He stared at her.

"At the moment, Rathias and I feel that you continuing to develop your mastery over Athos' powers would be better than for you to challenge Isentryx outright." she said, scribbling on a piece of parchment.

"That's-" He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Why is it that you and Gardner always seem to have a say in what I do? It's not like you're my parents or anything..."

Athena sighed deeply. "Zeraion, you are our only hope for resisting Isentryx at the moment. It is true that Rathias and I have been treating you like a son lately, but only because of your utmost importance in our efforts." She finished writing on the piece of paper and slid it into the desk drawer.

"Athena!" A dark-haired ranger burst into the room. "We finished clearing the rainforest as you asked…" His gaze lingered on Zeraion for a moment. "You seem familiar."

"Thank you, Captain Triton." Athena said before getting up from her seat and leaving out through the door.

_Triton…Wait a second..._

"You're…" Zeraion blinked, non-plussed, at the ranger before him. He was tall and dark-haired, but not by any means old. In fact, he looked younger than even Zeraion.

Suddenly, it was as if a beam of understanding passed between them.

"No…No way." the ranger said suddenly, dropping his bow and backing slowly away from Zeraion. "Captain Phoenix, is that you?"

-----

_It has been done. _Gault Isentryx smiled, a piercing line of darkness that cut through the atmosphere like a knife. Behind him, the Balrogs shirked away from him in fear, as they always did, but now, he seemed even more ferocious than ever.

_I have completed my transmutation at last. The soul has arisen from the dead, successfully transformed into a material form for the time being. It is wonderful…perfect._

His smile grew wider. _It is the one thing I believe that can defeat Zeraion Phoenix._

The Balrogs continued to shrink away from the ranger._ I believe it is time for me to pay some old friends a visit._

He drew his Shinebow, as great spectral wings burst from his back. Then, he soared into the air, flying through the narrow tunnels of the dungeon.

_My old friends…I think you will be surprised to see me. It is time I finally put you to rest._

-----

Slowly, Rysdale Tales walked through the ruins of Perion. He had heard about the destruction of the warrior town but had never seen it firsthand. Now that he was on the scene, however, he could feel the pain that had arisen in him when he had held his sister's bloodied hand some years ago. "This is a place of death." he murmured, his boots stepping upon the ashes of the town. He looked about for any sign of Dariel Marron/Aslan Seles (he had never really gotten used to the concept of Marron being Seles and was still unsure of what to call him), but there was none.

"Damn." His sharp eyes glanced about for any sign of the crusader, but to no avail. Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of something, glimmering in the dim light.

A Doombringer sword, set upon the remains of a stone fireplace.

Tales hurried over to the great blade and examined it; he found a box lying next to the sword. He picked up the box and opened it, examining its contents. Slowly, he closed the box with a solemn air and returned it to the top of the fireplace.

"Marron was here." he murmured softly to himself.

"Any luck, Rysdale?" Arundale called from the side.

"Yeah. I found his sword…and his father." Tales muttered. "Come over here and see."

Swiftly, Arundale and Igzarion ran over to the sniper. Arundale clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw the box. "Oh my-"

"No wonder he ran off." Igzarion said, wrinkling his nose.

"He must have been here at some point." Tales said, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Let's leave this stuff behind for now."

"Agreed." The three bowed once more to the sword and the fireplace and left, meeting with Arklanser at the city gate.

"We should at least head back to Elaesia for now." Igzarion cast a glance at the sky. "The sun's beginning to set. It won't help much if we stay out after dark."

"Athena'll be pissed." Arundale chided.

"Maybe, but I still don't fell like staying out at night in search for that idiot." Igzarion shrugged.

"Fine, fine, Iggy. Have it your way." Tales returned his crossbow to his quiver. "Let's go."

The four walked past the city gates, silently. Each had his or her own issues to deal with, but mostly they were thinking about the future- what would happen during the war with Gault and consequently, what would have to happen to each other. The fact that Gault had actually been one of their friends- that they had treated him as one- only multiplied their self-guilt, as though they themselves were somehow guilty for all the destruction that Gault had caused.

"Gault…" Tales let out his breath. "I wish he were here right now. I'd give him a piece of my mind..."

"Are you really sure you want to do that, Rysdale?" came a chilling voice from behind them.

Tales, Igzarion, Arundale, and Arklanser whipped around to see the tall, steadfast figure of Gault Isentryx standing before them.

"My friends…" He stood, staring passively at them. "How long has it been? A year, since we last met?"

"Fuck off." Tales snapped angrily. Gault raised an eyebrow.

"You really don't want to irritate me, Rysdale." he said in a falsetto tone. "Dispersal!"

Tales was thrown off his feet and crashed into a nearby wall of stone, his body hitting the ground with a thud. Arundale quickly ran to his side. "Are you okay, Rysdale?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tales said angrily, getting to his feet and charging at Gault. "You will die now, Gault!" he roared, his palm raised. "Icy Hellpike!"

Great spikes of crystalline ice burst forth from the ground, spearing through Gault's limp, bloodied figure. He fell to the ground with a thud.

"What the-" Tales had a moment's warning before Gault seemed to explode out of thin air next to him. "Dispersal!"

Tales was thrown off his feet yet again and skidded across the dry ground. Angrily, Igzarion raised his hand. "Devil's Inferno!" A plume of black fire burst from the ground, catching Gault; there was a shout of "Puppet!" as Gault dashed through the flames uninjured.

"Let's see if you four can provide me with a little amusement before you die." Gault snarled, his Shinebow now drawn. "Psi Crush Rain!"

Bolts of dark lightning poured from the sky and rained down on the four bowmen; swiftly, Igzarion raised his bow. "Demon Rain!" Igzarion's attack collided with Gault's in midair just in time, showering the landscape with sparks. "Not bad, Traphes." Gault gave a faint smile before charging forward at Igzarion. "Strafe!" Four shimmering arrows of silver flew at Igzarion, who dodged them and lashed out at Gault. "Power Knock-Back!"

Gault merely smiled and closed his eyes as Igzarion neared him; he stretched out a hand and caught the limb of Igzarion's bow as he charged forward.

Igzarion's eyes flew open in surprise. "What the-"

With superhuman strength, Gault picked Igzarion up into the air and slammed him into the ground painfully. Igzarion staggered to his feet, blood sheeting down his face. "Gault…You bastard..."

"Inferno!" Arundale and Arklanser raised their bows to the sky and attacked in unison, sending a double helix of flame hurtling at the dark ranger. Gault leapt out of the way of the fiery bolts and raised his bow. "Arrow Subjugator!" he roared, sending several rounds of spectral flak into the air. "Puppet!" Arklanser commanded, summoning a gigantic ward above her and Arundale to cover the blast. Still seething, Tales charged forward at Gault, his crossbow raised. "Blizzard!"

Gault raised his Shinebow as the gigantic pikes of ice neared him; with a swift motion, he sliced harmlessly through the ice floes like a hot knife through butter, the chunks of ice falling to the ground beside him. Furiously, Tales lashed out with a roundhouse kick at Gault, nearly catching him in the side. Gault dodged the blow and raised his palm. "Inferno!"

"Arrgh!" Tales was caught in the fiery blast, flying backwards and hitting the ground with a thud, blood streaking down his burnt face. "You son of a bitch! You won't get away with killing Laura!" He raised his crossbow. "Arrow Eruption!"

Lavender-colored bolts of lightning ripped from the ground, causing Gault to falter for a bit as he dodged the assault. Igzarion then raised his bow to take advantage of the opening. "Inferno!" he roared, sending a blast of flame hurtling straight towards Gault. Gault blocked the blast of fire with a defensive arte, only to be narrowly caught off-guard by a blast of flame from Arundale.

"Damn it!" Gault raised his Shinebow. "Psi Crush Rain!" Several more bolts of dark lightning burst forth from the sky, forcing the Devil Children to abandon their offense as they dodged the falling bursts of energy. Arklanser raised her Nisrock. "Ether Inferno!"

A stream of magenta-colored flame erupted from her bow and collided with Gault head-on, sending him skidding across the dry ground. Fury erupted in his eyes as he commanded, "Inferno!"

Arklanser screamed in pain as she was hit by the eruption of flame from the ground, while Tales and Arundale charged forward. "Strafe!" they yelled in unison, sending spectral bolts flying through the air. Gault swiftly dodged them and prepared to strike again, his palm raised and glowing with dark energy. "Dark Repri-"

"Dragon Pulse!" A burst of furious lightning slammed into Gault, sending him flying. The Devil Children turned their heads to see Zeraion Phoenix, running breathlessly at them, bow in hand.

"Damn it!" Phoenix swore. "What the hell happened to you guys?"

"Phoenix!" Tales quickly loaded another bolt into his crossbow. "What the hell are you doing here? You'll be killed-"

"Like you're doing any better, Tales." came the caustic reply. Gault got to his feet and stared at Phoenix with a strange expression, as though he was looking at a ghost.

"Zeraion Phoenix…" Gault smiled. "Now this should be interesting. I hope you prove more of a challenge than these screw-ups..."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Gault." Zeraion smiled. "Inferno Strafe!"

Four blasts of flame flew forth from Phoenix's bow and slammed into the ground near Gault's feet; he leapt out of the way and aimed at Zeraion. "Demon Strafe!"

Phoenix sidestepped the dark bolts almost lazily and charged forward. "Thunder Spear!" he roared, summoning a great shaft of lightning in hand. "Astatos!" he roared, pointing the spear at Gault.

Gault swiftly rolled across the ground to avoid the burst of lightning; he leapt to his feet and grinned at Phoenix. "Using a melee weapon, are you? Well, this is a game that two can play!" He raised his hand and commanded, "Devil's Claymore!" A gigantic blade of purest darkness began to form in his hand; with an almighty roar, he lunged at Zeraion. There was a large shower of sparks as the arcane weapons impacted against each other furiously.

"You aren't strong enough to kill me yet, Phoenix." Gault continued to smile at Phoenix as they stood, locked in a struggle against each other. "No matter how hard you try, you will lose this battle."

"Like hell I will!" Phoenix roared back, swinging the point of the spear around. "Thunder Lance!" Gault was struck by the successive bolts of lightning and flew into the air before alighting, slightly dazed, on his feet.

"Not bad, Phoenix." Gault brushed some of his raven hair out of his eyes. "I suppose Gardner did teach you a few tricks, didn't he?" He twirled the sword around in his palm before charging. "Eternal Cross!" Phoenix was sent flying backwards and crashed onto the ground painfully. Gault raised his sword, about to strike, but a shout of "Blizzard!" from Tales diverted his attention for a moment. He sliced through the icy flak with his blade and turned on the sniper. "Dark Repr-"

"Dragon Pulse!" Phoenix roared, sending a blast of lightning hurtling at the dark ranger. Gault managed to dodge the blast and turned to eye Phoenix with an amused expression.

"Very good, Phoenix." he said, flicking his wrist and causing the blade to disappear. "You can take care of yourself quite well..."

"But…" he continued, raising his Shinebow, "can you take care of those close to you?" With lightning speed, he turned around to face Tales. "Demon Strafe!"

"Puppet!" Phoenix raised a hand, creating a ward to shield the sniper. Gault merely smiled and melted into the night.

"Gault!" Phoenix roared, craning his neck wildly around for the ranger, but there was no sign of him. Phoenix ground his teeth. "Damn it! Where could he have gone?!"

His question was answered a split second later when Gault suddenly seemed to materialize again behind Arundale. "Dark Reprisal!" he roared, slamming a fist against her. Time seemed to slow as her body sailed through the air before landing next to Tales with a dull thud.

"Natalia!" Igzarion ran to her side; she was still breathing, but barely. Slowly he took her hand.

"Natalia, listen to me." he muttered through gritted teeth, clutching her hand. "You have to pull through this. For me, for Rysdale, for all of us. Don't leave me..."

"Iggy…" Arundale uttered, coughing up some blood, before her head fell back and she lay silently against the ground.

"Damn it!" Igzarion sunk to his knees, a furious, hot sensation spreading through his head. It took him only a second to realize that he was crying- bitter, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into the ground.

He turned to Gault. _Isentryx, you bastard…you've just crossed the line. Messing around with me is one thing, but messing around with Natalia is quite another._

He raised his bow and charged furiously at Gault, no longer caring about what happened to himself. All he needed now was tangible revenge. "Devil's Inferno!" he roared, sending a bolt of blackened fire at the dark ranger. Gault blocked it narrowly with a look of surprise on his face. "Traphes, since when did you suddenly become so powerful?"

'Just…go…to…hell!" Igzarion snarled, drawing something out of his pocket. As Phoenix watched in amazement, he realized it was a handful of coins. _What the…Does Iggy think he's going to be able to defeat Gault with a handful of pocket change?  
_  
His question was answered when Igzarion hurled the coins into the air and raised his bow. "Meso Explosion…Devil's Rain!" Perfectly synchronized, the coins exploded with a fiery flash in midair as Igzarion's arrows pierced them, creating a gigantic firestorm as the fiery arrows exploded around the landscape, each one leaving a sizable crater in the ground.

When the smoke cleared, Gault was nowhere to be seen. Phoenix charged angrily down the path, looking for him, but Tales held him back. "Don't. He could be halfway to anywhere by now. Let's take care of Natalia first."

Swiftly, Phoenix, Tales, and Arklanser rushed over to Arundale. There was a dismal silence as Tales checked for a pulse; finally, he pronounced, "She's still alive, but barely. We need to get medical attention as soon as possible." He stood up and commanded, "Golden Eagle!" At once, a great golden-colored bird materialized in front of the sniper.

Igzarion and Arklanser nodded and commanded, "Silver Hawk!" Two more great birds of prey appeared from the air and alighted on the ground. Quickly, Tales loaded Arundale on the eagle's back and flew off into the sky towards Elaesia; Igzarion and Arklanser looked questioningly at Phoenix. "Are you coming, Phoenix?"

"Yeah…er…" The ranger twitched embarrassedly for a moment before responding. "Athena never taught me Silver Hawk. She didn't think it was that important."

Igzarion clapped a hand to his forehead. "Never mind. You can ride on mine." Having said so, Phoenix clambered onto the back of Igzarion's hawk, and the three set off into the air.

"Thanks for letting me ride, Igzarion." Phoenix muttered. Igzarion merely replied with a nod. "By the way, where did you learn to use a technique like that? That was amazing!"

Igzarion remained stonily silent and cast a glance at Arklanser from the side. The crimson-haired ranger merely said, "It's your decision, Iggy, not mine."

They flew on in silence for a few more minutes until Elaesia finally came into view. Igzarion and Arklanser landed behind the medical ward as Tales rushed out.

"We made it just in time." he said, breathlessly. "Good thing Joe and Ascion were in, or we'd have a bloody mess on our hands. But she'll be fine after a day or two."

Igzarion raked a hand across his forehead in relief. "Thank god." His gaze on the sniper sharpened. "By the way," he said in a low voice that only Tales could hear, "what should I do about Phoenix?"

"What about him?"

Igzarion merely replied with "Devil's Rain." At this, Tales' brow furrowed in thought.

"Well, Iggy," the sniper finally replied, adjusting his glasses, "it's your decision on whether you want to tell him or not. But I would think it a great injustice if you decided to withhold this information from him after he basically saved our asses back there."

Igzarion scowled slightly, but turned back to Phoenix. "Phoenix?"

The ranger raised his head. "Yes?"

"There's something I need to tell you." He jumped down from the hawk and landed on the ground. "Would you mind if we took a little walk?" 

"I…I guess." Phoenix said, obviously flustered by the invitation.

"Good." Igzarion began walking away, down the streets of Elaesia, and Phoenix had no choice but to follow.

-----

"Would you mind if we took a little walk?"

"I…I guess." I didn't know what else to say to Igzarion; I had never been invited by him to take a walk, or pretty much anything else for that matter. Nevertheless, I didn't have anything else to do, so I sprinted after him until I caught up with him.

"Phoenix." He acknowledged my presence with a nod.

"I…" I bit my tongue, unsure of what to say. Finally, I managed to say, "The snow's…really beautiful, isn't it?"

Although I had meant that as polite conversation, the remark obviously touched a hidden nerve, as Igzarion seemed to stiffen when he heard the comment. It was some time before he replied, "I never really liked the snow."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"It snowed on the day they died." Igzarion replied tonelessly, continuing to walk at a brisk pace.

"Who?"

He turned to eye me with a dark expression. "My father, mother, and sisters."

"Oh." I paused, not sure of what to reply with. "I'm…sorry."

"It doesn't matter." Igzarion shrugged. "I never really liked them much, either."

"How can you say that?!" I stared at him. "Your parents- your family- they must have cared about you, didn't they?"

"They tried." Igzarion said, his hands in his pockets. "My mother was a Ranger. She tried to be nice to me, but I could tell that she honestly wasn't interested in me. She delegated more attention to my older sisters. I preferred my father better. He was a Chief Bandit, one of the strongest in the land, and I looked up to him. I wanted to be a Chief Bandit, just like him."

"Then…why are you a Ranger?" I ventured to ask. He seemed to stare off into space before answering, "It's a long story, Phoenix, and I don't have any tissues."

"It doesn't matter. We have all night." I laid a hand on his shoulder. "What happened to your parents?" 

Igzarion sighed, deeply, before he spoke. "My father had been one of the strongest Chief Bandits of the land. I suppose all the fame got to his head in the end. A few years after I was born, he became an alcoholic. He drank viciously- sometimes falling unconscious surrounded by heaps of bottles- and it was rather sad to say that I picked up on his habit at a young age. He seemed to be proud of me that I was following in his footsteps, and he sometimes used to show me off to visitors. 'Look at my son, he's drinking, just like his father!' And they would all laugh and cheer as I drank." 

"That's-" I was stunned; what kind of a father would do that to his son? "That's horrible! Didn't your mother do anything about it?"

"I told you she didn't care." Igzarion replied sullenly. "I think she was rather glad, if you must know. Anything to make me die quicker…" He took a deep breath. "Anyway, when I was nine, I ran off to Kerning City and became a thief. My dad was extremely proud of me and we celebrated the night by getting as drunk as skunks." He sighed, half with nostalgia, half with remorse. "After that, though, I eased off on drinking, preferring to devote more time to learn the arts of the dagger…although I did have a shot glass every now and then." He chuckled lightly, talking more to himself than me.

"You became a thief?" I gaped. "But…you're a ranger! How could you go from one class to the other? Isn't that impossible?"

"It's a long story, Phoenix." Igzarion sighed deeply.

"Well…" I bit my lip. "How did your parents…die?"

He stared for a long time at me before he turned away. "It was my eleventh birthday at the time. Twelve years ago, I believe. That day, it snowed in Henesys for the first time in several years. I was so excited to see snow for the first time, and I ran out into the yard with my mother and sisters. Together, we made a snowman, snow angels, and had a snowball fight." A wistful smile appeared on his face. "It was the first time I can ever remember her being kind to me."

I remained silent as he went on. "Then we played tag in the yard. I remember that I was it, and I was chasing my mother around the house. I cut across the garden in order to catch her, and as he rounded the corner, I leapt at her."

He averted his stare at the ground. "Then, all of a sudden, I flew off to the side and crashed onto the ground. I was so confused. I couldn't tell what had happened and I tried to get up, but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed, as though there was something holding me down. I started to get scared and I cried for my mother, but I couldn't see her. The whole world had become a blur."

He continued to stare down at his feet. "Then, I suddenly saw my father. He stood at the door, watching us, and then he walked ouside. As I watched, I realized he was the one holding me down with an arcane arte. I couldn't move."

He raised his glance to the sky. "And then…he punched her."

"Who-what?" I stammered.

"He punched my mother." Igzarion said bluntly. "I wanted to scream, but I couldn't open my mouth. As I watched in horror, he strode over to her and kicked her on the ground. I was scared. It was as though a demon had taken control of my father. My mother was screaming something I couldn't hear, and my sisters too. My father was obviously pissed, and he shouted something back at her."

I was in shock; I didn't know what to say as he went on. "He grabbed ahold of my mother and threw her to the ground, screaming at her. Then, he caught my sisters and beat them to the ground as well. It was then that I started to cry. I didn't know what was wrong with my father and I couldn't move. I wanted to run away, but his shadow web was still holding me in place."

He took a deep breath. "As I watched, he continued to beat my mother and sisters. Then, he suddenly abandoned them and walked up to me. As he got closer, I could smell the scent of strong alcohol on his breath. He glared at me with a strange look in his eyes, and then he pointed his hand at them."

His face seemed to contort slightly as he talked. "_'Do you see them, Traphes?'_, he said, his voice rising almost manically. _'Do you see them suffering? Look at them, Traphes. Look at those damned bitches; your worthless half-sisters and your backstabbing shrew of a mother!'_"

He let his breath out in a deep hiss. "And then I realized…the truth."

"You mean…" I said, still in too much shock to think straight. "Your mother had another lover?"

"Precisely." Igzarion said, turning his gaze to the sky once more. "It was then that I understood why my mother never cared for me. Her parents forced her to marry my father because of his status at the time. During their marriage, she had had another lover the whole time, to whom she had two daughters- my sisters. To her, I represented the man she had never loved, and it was obvious that she wanted to be rid of me."

"I…" I was in a state of near-catatonic shock; was this how Igzarion's life had really fallen apart twelve years ago? What kind of person deserved a fate like this?

"He drew a knife from his belt and cut into the side of my neck." Igzarion went on. He pushed aside his dark shoulder-length bangs to reveal a thin scar. "After that, he licked up the blood from the blade as I watched, then he turned back to them." He shuddered and his hand closed into a fist. "He…abused them viciously. I don't think you want me to go into details. I was forced to watch as the snow ran red with my mother's and sisters' blood."

He stared impassively across the landscape. "This went on for a couple of hours, until the lifeless bodies of my sisters and mother were in the snow. My father then turned to me and drew his knife. Then, he told me, 'I'm sorry, Traphes. I would have liked to keep you alive, but that simply isn't possible.' He suddenly tensed himself, and I realized he was about to throw the knife at me. I struggled against the arcane bonds that held me, but I couldn't."

He began to shudder again. "I closed my eyes in order to await death. I heard the sound of a knife flying through the air and I waited for it to be over, but I only felt a pair of hands grasp my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see my mother, the point of the blade piercing through her chest. She had thrown herself in the way of the blade to protect me."

"She…" I took a breath. "She saved you, even though you were the embodiment of the man she hated..."

"A mother's love for her child outweighs all else." Igzarion said, his eyes closed. "I realized that even though she had never cared for me, she still loved me. Slowly, I felt her hands lose their grip on my shoulders as she folded to the ground. As she fell, she whispered to me, 'You should never have been born.'"

It was then that I realized that Igzarion was crying, a single tear running down his cheek and falling down to the ground. "That's…How could she say that?!"

Igzarion ignored the question. "As she fell, I realized that the arte that held me in place was no longer in effect. My father was frozen in shock at what my mother had done and he had apparently released his control over the spell. I saw him standing there, and I didn't hesitate."

He took a deep breath. "I pulled the knife from her back, charged straight at him, and stabbed him through the heart."

"You…" Of all the things I had heard him say, this was the most shockingly disturbing. "You murdered your own father?!"

Igzarion barely raised an eyebrow at this statement. "What would you have done in my place?"

I fell silent, as did he. It was some time before he ventured to speak again. "It was then that some of the townspeople heard the commotion- I can only guess why they didn't come earlier- but they saw me surrounded by the dead bodies of my family with a knife in my hand. Obviously appalled, they rushed at me, ready to tear me apart. Then, all of a sudden, she came."

"She?"

"Natalia." Igzarion opened his eyes. "She had been hiding in the bushes the whole time and seen the whole thing. She alone of Henesys knew that I was innocent. Under the threat of her own guilt, she ran out and told the townspeople what had happened. Somehow, they believed her and I was exonerated."

My mind did a double flip. Arundale? She…she saved him? But then it suddenly all made sense- of all the people at The Resistance, Arundale was the only one who had shown any real kindness to him, and she had been the only one whom Igzarion had never lost his temper to.

"After that, I needed to find a suitable foster family," Igzarion went on, "but since I had been found with a knife at the scene of the crime, that more or less destroyed my chances of being adopted by anyone. I was in danger of being banished from Henesys until Natalia stepped in once more. She convinced her aunt and uncle- who were her legal guardians at the time- to adopt me, one way or another. She became my step-sister after that. I owe her my entire life."

"Arundale…did all that for you?"

"That and more." Igzarion folded his arms sullenly across his chest.

"I…" This was almost too much to digest, but I still had one question. "How…were you able to use Meso Explosion?"

"Ah." Igzarion sighed. "After the murder of my parents, I had no more desire to be a Chief Bandit like my father. I needed to find another class, but the laws of the world are absolute. Once you have chosen a class, you cannot change. That is the way of the world. I was lost until I remembered something- both thieves and bowmen require dexterity as a prerequisite. Since I had already had dexterity from my training as a thief, I reasoned, why not change to an archer?"

"I consulted Athena about my idea. She, as well as Natalia, did not doubt my innocence, but she told me that there was a high risk nevertheless in changing classes. She told me that there was a high rate of failure and if that occurred, I would be killed. However, death meant nothing to me after what I had gone through. After some more conversation, Athena finally agreed. She drew her power and gave me the gift of the bowmen. However, as expected, something went horribly wrong."

"What?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Apparently, the presence of the thief's power interacted with the power of the bowman in my body in some way. The massive amount of energy ended up causing an arcane reaction. I felt something take control of my body and I couldn't do anything."

"The formation of a demon…" I uttered.

"Athena realized what was going on. Quickly, she drew a spirit seal on my body and managed to seal the demon safely away, repressing its effects. However, that does not mean I am completely free of its curse." He lifted up his shirt, and I almost lost it- there was a grotesque burn mark in the shape of a circle branded on his abdomen, with a blue sphere of something embedded in his flesh. It was as though someone had tried to force a jewel halfway through his stomach. He sighed and let his shirt fall down once more.

"The demon, whose name is Taiga, resides in the spirit chamber that Athena created." he said, tapping the sphere underneath his shirt. "It is not a benevolent spirit, unlike the one that resides in your bow. It demands life energy and so must be repressed. I must take a mixture of alcohol and very dilute arsenic in order to suppress its effects, once a day."

"But…Arsenic is a poison, isn't it? So that means, eventually, you'll-"

"Yes, I will die." Igzarion said flatly. "This treatment that restrains the demon also weakens me as well. I do not have much time left to live. At best, I will die before I am 30."

"Couldn't you remove the demon or something?" I asked.

"That would be impossible. Taiga is as much a part of me as the blood in my veins and the cells that make up my body. Because of Athena's spell, Taiga is essentially fused to my soul. This has suppressed my emotions somewhat over the years. If Taiga were to be removed from my body, I wuld lose a substantial part of my life force and perish."

"What happens if…the seal is broken? Couldn't you harness Taiga's energy or something?"

"Taiga is not a benevolent demon." Igzarion repeated stubbornly. "I can control it to some extent, but I cannot stop it from taking my mana. If it were to be released, I would be able to harness Taiga's power very briefly before I die."

"There has to be something we can do." I said. "Some kind of healing arte or technique-"

"There is none." Igzarion replied flatly.

"How do you know-" 

"Rysdale, Natalia, Delinia, and I devoted our entire lives to finding an arte that could remove the demon safely from my body." He sighed. "During this time, we were able to greatly improve our elemental artes as a result of our magical research, but all of our theories ended in failure." He sighed again, more deeply. "They dedicated their lives for mine, and I never had a chance to thank them. I couldn't."

He stared ruefully across the street before going on. "Because of this, however, I was able to use both the artes of a bowman and thief in conjunction. When I took my third-class exam, I received it simultaneously from Athena and Dark Lord. In the end, I chose the path of the ranger. I learned only one technique of the Chief Bandit to be used in the utmost emergency. Over time, I fused the two techniques together- Meso Explosion and Arrow Rain- to create an attack of the greatest power I could muster."

"I…see." Suddenly, I felt regret inside of me- regret for not treating Igzarion like a friend, as I should have, when I had known nothing about his past.

"Igzarion, I'm sorry." I muttered, holding my hand out to him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you apologizing for, Phoenix?"

"I should have treated you better from the start when I first met you. I never knew anything about what you've gone through and you don't deserve the things I've done to you."

To my surprise, he smiled, very faintly, but still a smile. "No, Phoenix, I should be the one to apologize. You were a better friend to Rysdale than I ever could have been and I never saw that until I met you. Can you forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me." I said, smiling.

We shook hands as the sun set.

-----

After taking leave of Igzarion at the headquarters of Elaesia, I spoke briefly to Athena. She told me that Arundale was perfectly fine and just needed some rest. She also added that the purpose of Tales, Arundale, Igzarion, and Arundale having gone out earlier was to ascertain Marron's whereabouts and bring him back, as he had single-handedly turned the tide of battle in the first fight against Gault. I felt chills run up my body as I realized that Marron could have easily killed me in our last confrontation.

He probably still harbored a deep grudge against me, but that couldn't be helped. Without telling Athena of my motive, I took leave of her and headed out through the Elaesian gates, determined to find Marron. I hoped that the battle with Gault had shown him that I was not the real perpetrator of the destruction of Victoria Island.

Athena had told me that Marron's last appearance had been somewhere near Perion, so that would have to be my destination. I set off for the warrior city quickly; although my heart still ached from the last time I had been there, there was no choice.

The great city was deserted when I entered it. A chilling gust of wind blew through the streets when I walked past, as though to accentuate the fact that the town was deserted. Holding a hand out and murmuring "Inferno!" I looked about for any sign of Marron.

My search proved fruitless for some time until I caught the gleam of a great sword in the darkness. Rushing over, I found a large Doombringer propped up against what seemed like the remains of a fireplace, with a small box next to it.

I recognized the sword immediately. Obviously, as Athena had said, he had been here some time, but who knew where he was now? Sighing, I extinguished the flame and proceeded to walk out.

I had not traveled a few paces down the road that led out of Perion when there was a bright flash of light some yards away from me. Blinking, I wondered what it was, but that question was answered rather forcibly when I felt something slam painfully into my side.

Swearing, I swiveled my head around to see a figure in the distance, clutching a long spear made of lightning. What the hell? An assassin? From the distance and darkness between us, it was impossible to see the assailant's face.

The assassin charged again, his spear flashing in the darkness, as I evaded the blast. I tried to see his face from the light of the spear, but the attack passed by too quickly to see any detail.

I raised my bow and fit a spectral arrow to the string, bursting in flames. "Inferno!"

The blast of fire shot towards the stranger, who, unbelievably, spun the spear around in a great circle, dispersing the flame. From the light of the blast, I could see that my mysterious foe had long hair. Maybe Tales…but no, Tales couldn't use Thunder Spear. Then Iris? Maybe, but I highly discounted that possibility. Something told me I didn't know this person and I would be better off not knowing.

The figure turned around once more and charged at me. I raised my bow to block against the incoming assault. A flash of bright sparks exploded as the weapons came in contact; however, the flash was once again too bright and too fast to see any detail. I raised my bow and roared, "Inferno!" once more, but was thwarted by a swift guard from the opponent.

_Looks like I'll have to beat him at his own game._ I called upon Athos' power, feeling the power of the spirit flow into me, and I roared, "Thunder Spear!" A great shaft of lightning materialized in my own hand, and I slashed out at the enemy only to miss. I saw the blade of my opponent's weapon flash towards me and I blocked the blow, then raised my own spear in a great arc, bringing it down on my opponent's head.

He parried the blow squarely, then unexpectedly turned around and dealt me a slash from the side. Pain searing through my body, I lashed out again and missed. The mysterious foe sidestepped my charge and raised his spear for a final blow.

I twirled the spear in my arms and swung it forward just as my opponent's flew forward as well. Our weapons impacted furiously against each other and I was awed by my adversary's strength; I struggled to overpower my foe as we were locked in a battle stance against each other.

Then, as the piercing light from the crossed spears faded a little, I was able to get a good look at my opponent's face for the first time. And then I suddenly realized that I had been horribly wrong. I _did_ know this person.

"No way." I whispered into the night, as I stared horror-struck into my opponent's face. "It can't be..."

With a sudden burst of strength, the assailant pushed the blade of my spear aside and pointed the crackling tip of the weapon at my neck.

"…Grace…?!"

-----

Author's Note: _**OH MY GOD.**_

I AM NEVER UPLOADING IN FUCKING TEXT AGAIN. Took me nearly half an hour to reorganize the text that got screwed up. I feel like killing someone.

Well, anyways... Plot twist! Anyway, if the talk with Iggy disturbed you, I refer you to an excellent author named Kori Tetsugaia, who will likely be able to calm you with some nice stories of her own.

I know you are all pissed for the cliffhanger, but there's an easy solution. It begins with 'R' and ends with 'eview now or you'll never get to know the ending'. Simple enough?

-Kal Ancalas


	13. Judgment

**Chapter 12**

Author's Note: Don't ask me why I started with this scene. I just felt like it.

By the way, I realized that a Lt. Colonel was a fairly low rank in the military, so I promoted Ryden to a Captain. Shameless plug there, people.

If you're wondering, this is the rank hierarchy of the Elaesian Armed Forces (not that it really matters, from highest to lowest): Commander-in-Chief (Athena), High Commodore (the other three wisemen), Major General, Brigadier General, High Captain, Colonel, Captain, Lieutenant Colonel, First Lieutenant, Master Sergeant, Sergeant, and Private. Not exactly the order that today's militaries follow, but that's Fanfiction 101 for you.

Yeah, so…if you want to know why I haven't been updating, I cite a term paper on agricultural science taking up much of my time. I would have updated earlier, had it not been for the fact that I contracted a bad case of food poisoning on Friday and spent much of the weekend either puking my guts out or lying in a catatonic state on my bed. I still can't get the taste of spit-up out of my mouth, and I feel like crap. So a good review or two would help.

By the way, I apologize if the last few pages of this chapter seem rushed; it was late at night and my dad was screaming his ass off at me to sleep.

Anyways, you know the drill. Review, or else I'll get really pissed. And eat your dog. And you wouldn't want that, would you?

-Kal, 3/11

-----

"Ha! Four of a kind!"

The young mage, dressed in trim, military-style robes, triumphantly threw his cards down on the table, while his companions resentfully watched. "Again? That's the third time in a row…"

"Have you been stacking the deck?" another person, a thief, grumpily cut in. He was dressed in the same clothes as his companions, except that the sleeves and legs of his clothes were cut back somewhat.

"Would I ever do that do you?" the mage said, blinking innocently. The thief and warrior sighed listlessly. Still laughing, the mage turned to a solitary, chocolate-haired magician, about fifteen, laying on the nearby couch. "Come on, General Blade! Wanna join in?"

The magician, a priest, stirred. "For your information, that's Brigadier General Blade…" He flicked his wrist, causing a flash of bright light to illuminate the room. "And I don't have time for such trivial matters such as playing cards."

"He does have a point, Brigadier General." The warrior threw a disdainful look at the priest. "You're not going to die of exhaustion…"

"Look, I am going through a difficult time here, okay?!" Ascion snapped, sitting up.

"Aren't we all." The thief brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. "Maybe a hand or two will do you some good-"

"I said I don't want to." Ascion growled, pocketing his wand and stalking out of the room. All three glanced uncertainly at the priest before slowly redealing out the cards, the mage's fingers eagerly twitching in anticipation.

Ascion slammed the door rather forcibly before shaking his head. "First Medical Officer Blade, and now this." He dug his hands into the pockets of his robe. "Damn it. All these people are the same. They don't even have enough sense to fill a teacup…"

"Is something bothering you, _Brigadier General?_" someone asked in a falsely sweet voice. Ascion spun around to see his older brother casually looking at him, his battle-axe draped over his back.

"Oh." His features relaxed slightly. "It's you."

"Well, I'm so sorry for not having enough sense to fill a teacup, Brigadier General Blade."

"Shut up. It's bad enough that everyone's calling me that, but my own older brother?"

"It's not that I want to call you that," Ark said, looking as though there was a lemon in his mouth, "but because you are of a higher rank than me, I therefore must address you with your proper title."

"Well, no one's listening, are they?" Ascion sighed. "The last thing I want is you to be assimilated into that bunch of morons. Lieutenant Colonel Wolfen, indeed." He exhaled. "It does have a nice ring to it. How come you got Dad's name and I got Mom's?"

"Because Ascion Wolfen would have sounded dorky." Ark chuckled.

"No, Ark Blade would have sounded even dorkier." He laughed lightly at the jab. "So, how's life in the Beta Division? What's Sitting Bull having you do now?"

"Nothing, at the moment." Ark cracked his knuckles. "Ryden's getting all the good missions."

"Gee, I wonder why." Ascion replied in a mock tone. Sensing his brother's light displeasure at the comment, he quickly added, "So, what are you doing up?"

"Dunno. Not much, I guess." He sighed, ruffling his raven-black hair. "Actually, there was something I wanted to do." He looked away from Ascion.

The priest tried to examine his brother's face, but he could not read the crusader's emotions from his expression. He sighed. "What is it?"

"I wanted to go visit Mom's grave." Ark said bluntly, walking past his brother. Ascion looked on silently as Ark walked along the length of the hall, his greaves echoing loudly against the floor. He reached the door and turned to face Ascion. "You can come along if you want."

Ascion read the expression on his brother's face, slightly clearer. "No, it's okay. I-"

"I insist." Ark said, in a slightly exaggerated but undeniably serious tone.

"Whatever you say, bro." Ascion said, teleporting across the hall and appearing at his sibling's side in a flash. Slowly, the pair walked out of the hall onto the grounds below.

-----

"Grace…" I shuddered, still staring down the length of the great spear that she was pointing at me. It was as though the entire fabric of the world had collapsed out of my feet. _This can't be happening. She's dead. She's dead! She can't be…_

As if on cue, there was a rumble of thunder overhead as I felt a raindrop strike my face. First one, then two, then an eternal cascade of water flowed from the sky, blending with the tears that fell from my face and the sanguine drops that oozed from my wounds.

"It can't be you." I said out loud, more to myself than her. "You were killed two years ago. This is a trick."

In the dim light, I couldn't read her expression, but as she lifted the spear up for a moment, it illuminated her face. I was shocked by her appearance; her eyes seemed soulless and empty. It was as though she were a puppet, suspended by invisible strings.

"It's not a trick, Zeraion." she said, in an emotionless voice that sounded like it could have come out of a computer.

"No. No!" I shouted, still frozen in horror. "I was there! I saw you! It was Gault, he killed you, and I watched you die…" My tears melted into the rain until I couldn't tell which was which. "Grace, I'm so sorry…I couldn't save you…."

"Isentryx did not kill me. He saved me." she replied in that same, ice-cold tone.

This struck a hidden niche in my heart; it was as though someone had whacked me in the chest with a sledgehammer. To hear those words was like poison being forced through my ears. I knew what she was saying couldn't be true. To speak kindly of her killer…

Out of pure disbelief and shock, I raised my hand and roared, "Thunder Spear!" The reassuring flash of lightning arced across my hands, and the great lance sat comfortably in my hands once more. I swung the point of the blade at her, which she blocked easily and lashed out at me. I couldn't bring myself to dodge the blow and was thrown across the ground, landing with a painful thud.

"Grace…" I whispered as she strode coolly over to me. "Why?"

She did not answer as she stared down at me with those cruel, heartless eyes, no longer the person she once was and the person I once loved.

Helpless and paralyzed though I was, I still had no intention of dying right then and there. Although I could hardly bring myself to do so, I raised a hand and roared, "Inferno!"

A blast of flame surged from the ground and caught her in the face. Not daring to look back, I staggered to my feet and began to run, as fast as I could. I heard a shout of "Ice Strike!" behind me and dived off to the side as great chunks of frozen ice pierced through the rain and barreled past the ground.

Swearing and crying at the same time, I ran for some time before I realized that it was no use. She would only track me down in the end, and as the situation stood, my first priority had to be to prevent her from doing any harm to anyone.

Ignoring the vicious thrumming of my heart, I flung the spear aside, not needing it for serious battles, and raised the Abyssal Arund. As I saw the flash of lightning fly through the air, I felt Athos vibrate uncertainly. _Dragon child, what troubles you? This is not the time for your emotions to get in the way._

_Athos, I was once in love with her! You don't know what it feels like to be in love, do you?!_

There was a moment of silence before I heard the spirit's voice rattle in my head again. _Do not underestimate me, Zeraion. My years and experience- forgive me for sounding presumptuous- far outnumber yours. I have experienced all emotions, including love, at their best and worst. However, I can say from personal experience that it is the worst mistake in the world to allow emotions to distract you when your life is at stake. _

_As usual, you're right, unfortunately. _I shouldered the bow and roared, "Inferno Strafe!"

Four bolts of red flame whizzed through the air, nearly catching her, but she only teleported out of the way and raised her hand. "Cold Beam!"

Bursts of blue magic flew through the air, freezing the raindrops in midair as they surged towards me. I quickly rolled out of the way of the bursts and raised the bow once more, flicking the string. "Omega Crush Rain!"

A bolt of red-white lightning flew from the bow and disappeared into the sky before raining down with a vengeance, hurtling downard in great fiery spears of flame at Grace. Undaunted, she raised a hand and commanded, "Magic Guard!"

While a simple spell such as that normally wouldn't have stopped the force of a fusion arte head-on, I was stunned when the flame bifurcated around the guard harmlessly. Once more, Grace raised her hand and pointed two fingers at me. "Negative Gate!"

Suddenly, before I could register what was going on, I felt bolts of electricity crackle around me. Before I could guard against the attack, vicious bursts of lightning pulsed through my figure, leaving several bloody gashes in my armor. Almost immediately, I could feel my strength renewing and my wounds healing as Athos quickly took control, a golden aura surrounding my figure.

I raised a hand, commanded "Thunder Spear!" once more, and charged at Grace, Athos' determination nulling my self-conflict somewhat. Parrying the bursts of lightning that she flung at me, I continued to run, and the distance between us grew ever shorter. I charged forward, the tip of the weapon crackling with energy, and thrust directly upwards. "Thunder Lance!"

Grace was thrown into the air as bursts of lightning pierced her body. She alighted on her feet, somewhat awkwardly, and I could see that although there were wounds on her body, no blood came forth from them. I stared too long, however, for in the next moment, she raised her hand and commanded, "Heal!"

Her skin and flesh rippled as it pieced itself back together; I was completely flabbergasted. _How can she use a cleric's healing abilities? Is this somehow related to how Marron was able to use the abilities of a White Knight? _I had little time to dwell on it, though, before she raised a hand and commanded, "Ice Strike!"

A large blast of ice materialized at her hand and slammed into me at full force, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I gasped for air and choked out, "Inferno!", winding her for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, Athos took control of my emotions for a second and lunged forward with the spear. "Impaling Heaven!"

She was thrown into the air once more and alighted on her feet, charging once more with the spear. I- or rather, Athos- blocked all of her strikes with surprising mastery, wielding the spear like an expert. Grace may have passed for a Dragon Knight, but she was no match for the spirit, who quickly cut into her with another shout of "Impaling Heaven!"

She staggered backwards and fell, as Athos blew her into the air again with a roar of "Dragon Buster!" Her body arced through the air before landing on the soft ground with a thud. I was torn between either running up to her and finishing her off or leaving her alone to fend for herself.

That question, though, was answered for me when a figure, whose silhouette was blacker than the night and the rain, slowly drifted behind Grace's limp figure.

Slowly, he (or she- I couldn't tell in the rain) knelt down by her. There was a flash of light as she staggered to her feet, apparently revived. I felt a sudden urge to rush at her, but Athos held me back. _Stop. Don't. I sense evil._

_Who are you to judge what's evil and what's not?! _I bellowed (rather senselessly, in retrospect), breaking free of his grip and rushing towards her.

Suddenly, there was a shout of "Dispersal!" An invisible force gripped me and I found myself being flung into the air. Quickly, I aimed at the ground, roaring "Puppet!" I bounced off the straw ward harmlessly and rushed towards her.

There was a roar of "Ice Strike!" With a second's warning, I knocked the huge spikes of ice aside with the point of my spear and rushed closer. As I neared them, I could see that the figure was tall, with black hair and a bow-

"Dark Reprisal!" he roared, sending a bolt of lethal energy flying at me. Quickly, I blocked the bolt of magic with the lance and closed the gap between us. "Astatos!" I roared, plunging the point of the spear into the ground.

Gault easily blocked the bolts of lightning that erupted forth from the ground and turned to face me. "Ah, Phoenix. You came to resume the match that we had some time ago?"

"Go to hell!" I snapped back, slamming the spear onto his head, which bounced off his arcane guard.

"That was rather rude, Phoenix." Gault said, as though he were a schoolteacher speaking to a delinquent child. "I would have thought you could have shown a little more respect under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?!" I howled furiously. "Astatos!"

Gault easily repelled the lightning and turned to face me with a slightly more serious expression. "Oh, Phoenix. Do you mean to tell me you haven't figured it out by now?"

I could almost feel the blood boiling in my head. Gault talking to me as though I were a child, _tormenting _me…it was too much to bear. I raised the spear once more and commanded, "Thunder Lance!"

He parried the strikes almost lazily and returned his gaze to me. "My, my, Phoenix, you are thicker in the head than I would have thought. Perhaps the appearance of this lovely young maiden can explain it?" He waved a hand at Grace.

"What are you talking about?" I asked furiously, my blood running cold.

"You were there, Phoenix." he replied, folding his arms across his chest. "You were there, that night in Ellinia. You watched her die."

"You were the one who _killed _her!" I snapped back.

"Mere technicalities." He waved my furious rebuttal away. "That being the case, I may have killed her because she was using forbidden magic, or because she was…well, in layman's terms, a pain in the ass. Your choice. But I saw the folly of my mistake, and so I resurrected her. You should be slightly more grateful."

"Liar!" I furiously bellowed, feeling nothing except rage. "You hated her! You despised her! You were the one who killed her! Why on earth would someone like you ever do something like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Because of you, Phoenix."

I had no idea whether he was making a jest or if his statement contained some truth. However, that matter was resolved when he resumed speaking. "Phoenix, you may have misunderstood me. You may think of me as an enemy, but do you realize what I am trying to do? I am the one foretold by the prophecy to bring peace and prosperity to the land."

"Wh-what?" I stammered. "What prophecy?!"

"Have you heard of the tale of the Demon Children?" he returned.

"Yes." Athena's words flowed back into my mind from years ago, it seemed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"The tale of the Demon Children is a thinly-disguised prophecy of the fate of the world." Gault said. "This world is an illusion, Phoenix. We may think that we govern our own destinies, we are free to choose our own paths, but the world simply does not work that way. Our land is still ruled by the ancient laws and paths that the founders of this world forged for us millenia ago. As the forerunner to the heir of the bowmen, I realized the true meaning of the story."

"And that would be…?"

"Normally, I don't bother with explaining things, but since you are the great Zeraion Phoenix, after all, I suppose I will make an exception." He took a breath and began to speak.

"Long ago, there was once a great war fought between two opposing factions; the demons and the elves. With their arts of magic and archery, the elves were able to hold back the demons, but not for long. All seemed lost for them until they made contact with the humans. Wielding the arts of the warrior and the rogue, the humans and elves were able to band together and more effectively resist the demon scourge."

"What does this have to do with anything?" I shot back.

"You would do better to listen to the whole tale, Phoenix." he returned in a slightly venomous tone. "As the legend goes, four champions, each masters of their respective arts, rose from the ranks of the humans and elves. They, as Athena told you, were the Final Four, otherwise known as the Divine Children, and they battled Razier, the great demon, to the death with soul transmutation."

"As it happened," Gault went on, "the elven magician of the Final Four, Lisandea, was also an oracle. She was the only one of her kind to study the art of divination. As she fell to the ground after sacrificing her soul life, she gasped out the now-famous Judgment of Bera. I shall recite the most relevant part to you here."

_From the remnants of our ashes, four shall rise…_

_Four divine children, each touched by darkness…_

_They shall fight the great demon, and they shall give their lives_

_As we have done, until one day, he shall come…_

_The great Lightbringer, the one true scion of our power…_

_It is the Lightbringer who shall rise from the ashes of the four children…_

_It is his sacrifice that shall bring peace to this dying world…_

_It is he that is the dawn of the coming age of prosperity._

"The Judgment can be easily deciphered." Gault said, shaking his head. "The 'four divine children', obviously, are the heirs to the leaders of the warrior, magician, bowman, and thief. The 'great demon' refers to Razier, the spirit form of the Crimson Balrog summoned long ago by the necromancers. The Lightbringer is one who has been able to master the arts of the Final Four. The Judgment was eventually passed down as a fairy tale and a children's bedtime story, but I assure you there is nothing childish about it."

He spread his arms out. "Do you see now, Phoenix? I am the Lightbringer, foretold to be the one who shall bring peace to Bera, by ushering in the Age of Bowmen!"

"No!" I gasped, horrified. "You can't be! You're not-"

"The Lightbringer is the 'one true scion' of the power of the Final Four." Gault returned, impassive as ever. "In other words, that means being able to fully master the sacred arts of the fourth class. Hence…Final Attack."

"But…" My mind whirled through the quicksand of denials and disbelief. "You're not a Bowmaster! You're a Ranger! Gardner said so!" Immediately, my mind went into overdrive. "Rathias Gardner is the Lightbringer, isn't he?!"

Gault scowled briefly for a second as he heard Gardner's name, but he returned quickly to his placid mood. "Why, Phoenix. When did Rathias ever tell you that I was a Ranger?"

I recognized that voice; it was that demonic edge that made him sound as though he was possessed. As I stood there, transfixed with horror, he raised his Shinebow.

"_Dragon Pulse!"_

His attack tore through the air and exploded a few yards away from me; nevertheless, the resulting shockwave was enough to fling me several meters into the air. I hit the ground with a painful thud in time to hear Gault roar, "_Final Attack!"_

An impossibly bright blast of light erupted from his bow, soaring high into the air and flying in a beautiful, deadly arc, before it connected with the ground.

That was the last thing I saw before I was thrown into the air once more, tossed like a rag doll, as blood flowed from my wounds. Quickly, I felt Athos take control as I alighted on the ground, my wounds healing once more. I struggled against the spirit, but it was no use. _Leave this well alone, dragon child. It's best if I take over for now._

I was in no position to argue as I stared out at the crater that Gault's attack had made. _Holy…_ The crater had to be at least a thousand feet in diameter. Maybe more. _Did you see that? He…he was able to use a fourth release! That's not possible!_

_Indeed. This makes our task slightly more difficult. _

Gault strode calmly over to me, his gaze impenetrably sharp. "Do you see now? Do you realize what the true ability of the Final Four was? To master the legendary fourth release! I have mastered that powerPhoenix. It is my destiny to bring the world to its knees as I commence the Age of Bowmen!"

"But…" I tried to riffle through my mind for a possible rebuttal. "The Judgment talked about the sacrifice of the Lightbringer. That means you'll die!"

Gault only chuckled. "No, Phoenix. The sacrifice of the Lightbringer refers to the purging of the world; to cleanse Bera of all those that are not bowmen." His gaze sharpened.

"You, on the other hand, are not as lucky. You have been appointed by Athena and Gardner to be the future leader of the bowmen, and you have been given the Abyssal Arund, the last remainder of the ancient war. You are one of the Divine Children, and along with the heirs of the warrior, magician, and thief, you will die trying to defeat Razier. It is I who shall bring the demon to its knees as I purge the land of all those unworthy and bring in the Age of Bowmen."

"What…?!" My blood ran cold. "No! I won't…I can't…" _He's lying. He's lying! I'm not just a sacrificial lamb to save the world!_

As though Gault had read my mind, he only shook his head and laughed. "Deny it all you want, Phoenix. I am not trying to deceive you. There would be no purpose in doing so. Athena and the other wisemen knew about this all along. It was her duty to make you believe that you were the future leader of the bowmen in order to prep you, so to speak. She only wanted you to die nobly, with a purpose."

"I…" There was nothing I could say, so I could only scream, as loudly as I could, "You're lying to me! That's not true!"

"Why don't you go ask Athena?" Gault merely replied, calm as ever. "I'm sure she will tell you the same thing you're telling yourself. It is her duty to do so, after all. Isn't that right, Grace?"

And then, to my utter amazement and horror, she kissed him. Not just a gentle peck on the cheek, but a full-fledged kiss- as though she really loved him. I could only stare at them as Gault and Grace threw their arms around each other and continued to kiss. It is impossible to put into words what I was feeling at the time, and I suddenly realized- _she really did love him._

In that frame of time, I simply exploded. It was as though a stick of dynamite had gone off in my brain, and I let out an incoherent cry of pure rage, raising my bow and crying "Thunder Spear!" Abandoning all caution and pretense, I called upon the power of Athos in full, feeling the ancient spirit's power flow into me like a waterfall. At the same time, giant, spectral wings erupted from my back, my hair grew longer, past my shoulders, and my armor changed from its usual emerald-shade to alternating plates of gold and black. Letting out another cry of fury, I let Athos take full control of my body; he raised the great spear and lunged furiously at them, not caring what happened.

Gault looked up just in time to see me charging at him; narrowly, he raised a guard to block the force of the attack. Nevertheless, the force of my attack was so great that he skidded several meters along the ground.

He looked into my face, and for the first time, I could see something resembling fear manifesting itself into his eyes. "Asthathos!" he whispered, in reverent horror.

Athos raised the lance and roared, "Radiant End!" A blast of light erupted from the spear and slammed into Gault at full force, blowing him into the air.

He then turned on Grace, raising the great spear and preparing to strike, but at that moment, Gault's voice rang out in my mind.

_Are you really sure you want to do that, Zeraion?…_

I looked up for a split second to see Gault, on his feet once more, as he stared at me. "Go ahead, kill her if you want." he shrugged. "That kiss was only for show…at least on my part." He smirked. "But if you really love her, Zeraion, I would strongly suggest not running her through yet."

"What do you mean?!" I roared, pure hate flowing through my veins, but at the same time, I managed to restrain Athos from dealing the final blow.

"How do you think I brought her back?" Gault shrugged. "I used a simple soul transmutation. The form of her you see now is not truly her. It is only her soul, manifested in a temporary physical form. Destroy her now, and you destroy her soul. You will lose all hope of ever returning her to her original body."

"What do you-"

He shook his head. "Naïve as ever, Phoenix. Despite what you may think, I have not truly brought her back from the dead. Her body still lies somewhere, only waiting to be reunited with the soul. If you can capture her soul and perform a counter-transmutation to reunite them, then you will essentially have resurrected her. That is all it takes, Phoenix. To reunite the lost soul with the body, you can revive someone from the dead."

His cruel smile grew wider, spreading across his face like a virulent disease. "However, if you want to seize her soul…" He drew his Shinebow once more. "You will have to get through me!"

"…_Damn you, Gault!" _I bellowed furiously, raising the spear and charging recklessly at him. At that moment, Gault shouldered his Shinebow and calmly took aim. "Dragon Pulse!"

The blast of furious lightning met me head-on, and I was thrown into the air, doing a few awkward flips before landing. Furiously, I prepared to charge again, but I saw that Gault and Grace were gone, having seemingly melted into thin air.

I fell to my knees, the rain still pouring down. My tears and blood flowed along with the rain at the same rate. Having being told that I was merely part of a prophecy and destined to die was mind-shattering enough, but the fact that Grace's soul lay out of my reach tore at my heart still more.

Athos' voice floated over to me. _Do not be so dismal, dragon child._

"Dismal?!" I snapped at him. "I just got told I was about to die and there's nothing I can do about it, and the only woman I ever loved is in the hands of my worst enemy! And you tell me to stop being dismal?! What kind of benevolent spirit are you?!"

I expected a harsh rebuttal from the spirit, but received none. Instead, I felt the bow thrum warmly in my hands, as though it were patting me on the back. _There exist many interpretations of Lisandea's words. Do not think that your fate is sealed._

"Yeah? How would you know?" I sullenly snapped.

Athos seemed to twinkle in the rain. _It's time you should know, Zeraion. My full name is Asthathos Rindelasca, and I was one of the Divine Children long ago._

"You…" My anger evaporated for a moment. "Long ago? You mean there have been other Divine Children before me?"

_Yes. All of them have died attempting to thwart Razier, as the prophecy suggests. Out of the four that I was partnered with, only I survived._

"If you survived, then that must mean the prophecy is false, right?" I said excitedly.

Athos sighed. _Do not be so hasty. I am not considered an alive being; only a fragment of my soul survives and rests in this bow. The four wisemen are well aware of the Judgment's true interpretation. However…I doubt young Isentryx has much sense in him to realize Lisandea's true meaning._

I sighed, the rain continuing to pour down in sheets. "So am I going to die or not?"

_Perhaps. Perhaps not. In any case, I strongly suggest you do as much as you can and do not take yourself for dead. You will not serve much purpose if you shrug off your duties._

"Should I ask Athena about the Judgment's true meaning?"

There was a ripple of amusement from the former savior. _You could try, but I sincerely doubt she would tell you._

I sighed. "In that case, I guess you're right. We don't know if Gault's words are set in stone. At the very least, I have to do as much as I can to help the Elaesians. And Grace…" I faded off as I stared into the distance.

_Yes? What about her?_

"I…have to save her." Tears brimmed from my eyes. "It's my fault I couldn't save her in the first place. I'm not going to make that same mistake again. I will retrieve her soul from Gault, and…bring her back."

_Even if you were to do that, how could you perform the required counter-transmutation without killing yourself?_

"I…" I fell silent for a moment. Finally, I replied, "Well, to be honest, I don't know. But I have to do something. I'll worry about that when the time comes."

Athos sighed, but said nothing more. Slowly, I returned the Abyssal Arund to my quiver and began to travel back to headquarters.

"Wait a second." I muttered, suddenly realizing something.

_Yes?_

"Gault said that he revived Grace because of me…" I ran a hand through my bloodied hair. "But if he knew I was going to die anyway…" I sighed. "Then why did he even bother summoning her?"

Athos merely twinkled. _We can only guess, Zeraion._

_I suppose you're right. _My footsteps were lost in the rain as I continued to walk back towards Elaesia.

_----- _

The streets of Elaesia, normally bustling with eager fighters, were deserted for once. The large rainstorm currently going on caused many people to lose their desire to train, and many of the units stayed inside, sleeping, eating, or just wasting time.

Two figures emerged from the rain, one dressed in long robes, the other decked in a trim cuirass and with a large axe hung across his back. Both were silent, the rain only serving to accentuate the sober mood in the air.

Slowly, the crusader walked through the lifeless streets, the priest stumbling and trying to keep up. "Wait for me, Ark!" he called, tripping over a mud puddle and splattering. He shook himself to his feet and swore under his breath, using a minor arte to siphon the mud off of his clothes.

He glanced around, looking for his brother, and saw the shadowy silhouette of the warrior disappear behind an alley. Shaking himself off one last time, he uttered, "Teleport!" and in a second was beside his sibling once more.

Ark merely shook his head. "Clumsy as ever, huh, Ascion?" he sighed. "You remember a year ago you almost got Zer killed?"

"Yeah, but if it hadn't been for my teleportation skills, he'd be dead anyway." Ascion shrugged.

Ark resisted the urge to reply and merely smiled. "Whatever, Ascion."

The pair walked on in relative silence, until Ark stopped. Ascion paused to eye the spot where Ark had stopped. "What are you-" He glanced before him. "This is an empty piece of land…"

"This is- or I should say, _was _our house." the crusader shrugged, sighing deeply.

"What?!" Ascion could feel a pit forming in his stomach. "What the hell do you mean, this was our house?!"

"I sold it to the Elaesian Armed Forces." Ark said bluntly. "They need the available land. In a week's time, this will be an armory."

"How could you do something like that?!" Ascion roared. "That- that was our home! You don't go off selling away the land that you've lived on for years-"

Ark raised a hand to stop his brother's quibbling. "Athena said, either I sell it, or she sends someone in to bulldoze it." He laughed humorlessly. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"It _does _matter!" Ascion yelled back. "Do you know how many memories our house holds?"

Ark turned to fix his brother with a cryptic expression. "Yes." he murmured. "Perhaps too many."

Before the priest could question the meaning behind the crusader's words, the latter abruptly straightened up and walked onto the empty lot of land. Suddenly, he knelt down by what seemed like a rock abnormally jutting out of the ground. Or so Ascion thought; when he moved closer, he could see that it was a tombstone. He fell silent as Ark closed his eyes and slowly whispered something under his breath.

The atmosphere became painfully drawn as Ascion stood, eyeing his brother for some time. Finally, when he could stand the tension no more, he walked over and laid a hand gently on the warrior's shoulder. "Ark…"

The crusader blinked, as though from a deep sleep, and straightened himself out. "Yes…er, sorry." He sighed, and Ascion could see something twinkling in his eye from the moonlight. He wiped a hand across his face and stared forlornly at the stone.

"This was…Mother, wasn't it?" Ascion said in a low voice.

Ark answered with a mute nod.

"I…" Ascion glanced at his brother, who was staring at the ground. "This is about me, isn't it?"

"What makes you say that?" Ark said, turning his head to face his brother.

"I'm not stupid, Ark." Ascion cracked his knuckles. "You didn't want me to come here because…when I was born, Mother died as a result…"

"I-" Ark was at a loss for words. "How can you say something like that, Ascion?!"

"It's true, isn't it?" Ascion said hollowly, his hands resting in his pockets.

"Ascion, I-" Ark paused, his stomach fluttering wildly. He felt rather trapped, like a parent asked the immortal "Where do babies come from?" question by a child. However, he would rather have been faced with the latter at this point.

"You don't have to answer, by the way." Ascion said, turning his back and slowly walking away.

Ark stared in silence at his mother's grave for a split second before hurrying off towards his brother. "Ascion, _wait!"_

The priest turned around, his cool-as-ice gaze fixed upon his brother. "Yes, Ark?"

"Ascion, I…" He raked a hand across his rain-drenched forehead, obviously trying to say something but looking as though the words were stuck halfway in his throat.

Then he punched Ascion in the face.

Ascion fell backwards, landing onto the mud-saturated ground with a splat. His cheek throbbed painfully, but it was more because of his brother's abrupt behavior than the pain that he was in shock. "Wh-what did you do that for?!" he roared, his eyes stinging. "You didn't have to hit-"

"_Listen _to me, Ascion!" Ark snarled, yanking his brother onto his feet and staring into his face. "Don't talk like that again! Don't talk like that _ever _again!" As Ascion stared into his brother's face in shock, he realized that Ark was crying- tears streaming from his eyes and pouring down his cheeks. This shocked and moved him to tears of his own; he had always thought of Ark as the protective older brother and hadn't thought that the warrior knew how to cry.

"I…" Ark relinquished his grip on Ascion, letting him stagger backwards a few paces. "Ascion, listen to me. None of this is your fault! Don't ever blame yourself for Mom's death!"

"But it's true!" Ascion sobbed, staring at his brother with a mixture of fury and sorrow. "I should never have been born! Then at least you and Zer would have been happy…"

He fell back as Ark slammed his elbow into his chest. "Ascion, I _told _you not to talk like that!" The rain poured ever harder upon the two siblings. "You're my younger brother, as much as Zer is, and I won't let you blame yourself for the cause of our mother's death. And I'll break every bone in your body if I have to!"

"I…" Ascion staggered to his feet, choking on the wind and rain. "Ark, I…" He stumbled towards the crusader and fell limply into his arms, crying softly. "I'm sorry…"

"For what?" Ark muttered, in a slightly gentler tone. "What do you have to apologize for? I'm the one who should be sorry. You're my brother, Ascion, and nothing will ever change that."

"I know." He stepped back and wiped away a couple of tears.

The sounds of the rain, almost symbolically, began to cease as both siblings looked upwards, the rays of moonlight beginning to pierce through the clouds.

"You know…" Ascion looked thoughtfully at the gravestone a few yards away from them. "I never got to see our mother…Dad never showed me a picture of her. What was she like?"

Ark gently rolled his tongue around in his mouth. "She was very pretty. She had…long, chocolate-colored hair and beautiful blue eyes. Just like yours." He ruffled his brother's hair.

"Thanks, Ark." Ascion smiled.

The crusader managed to laugh, the remnants of tears still streaking his face. "No problem, bro."

-----

"Captain Ryden, Athena wants to see you."

Those were the words that nearly every enlisted officer in the Elaesian Armed Forces heard nowadays. The meetings had grown monotonous to the point that they were somewhat unnecessary; the bowmistress writing something on a piece of paper and telling you to do something trivial like clear some land or take the troops out for a spin.

This time, it was different. Ryden could clearly see the seriousness in the auburn-haired captain's voice as he delivered the rather abrupt news. He had been training aimlessly in a newly-cleared field, practicing some base maneuvers.

"Yes, Captain Sinclaire?" he said, with a touch of dryness in his tone.

Sinclaire rolled his eyes. "It's not my job to persecute sarcasm in the ranks. Otherwise, I'd have half of you kicked out." He jabbed a thumb towards the large complex. "Come. Athena's waiting."

Silently, Ryden sheathed his blade and followed Sinclaire as they walked towards the glass-domed fortress that housed the major leaders of the Elaesian Armed Forces. A few people raised a hand or saluted in greeting as they walked past, but Sinclaire's pace was too brisk to take notice of their surroundings.

Finally, the ranger led Ryden to a small room and opened the door. "In."

Ryden slowly strode inside to see the bowmistress-turned-military leader writing something at her desk. Inwardly, he sighed. Didn't the commander-in-chief of the EAF have anything better to do than fill out endless stacks of paperwork?

"I brought him here, Athena. Just like you asked." Sinclaire folded his arms across his chest.

Athena barely glanced up. "Yes, thank you, Captain." As the ranger turned to leave, she suddenly stopped him. "Don't leave just yet, Sinclaire. This concerns you as well."

With a slight scowl, Sinclaire spun on his heel to face the bowmistress. "Yes, Athena."

Athena slid a completed stack of paper into her desk. Ryden dared to ask, "Excuse me, but I would have thought the leader of the armed forces had slightly more interesting jobs to do than fill out paperwork…"

Athena declined to answer the question. "I don't believe it's your job to question my duties, Ryden. In any case…" Her gaze flickered to Sinclaire before she went on. "The Devil Children, although through no fault of their own, failed rather miserably in their quest to retrieve Dariel Marron. Because of this, I've decided to relocate the task of finding him to you, Ryden. You should be better suited to the job since you've known him for quite a while."

Ryden nodded, the memories of his blonde-haired teammate rattling in his head, while Sinclaire rudely coughed. "Excuse me, Athena, but I fail to see how this conversation requires my presence…"

Athena sighed. "I was about to clarify that, Luke." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and continued. "The Devil Children, along with Zeraion Phoenix, have managed to ascertain that Marron was last seen at Perion. However, he doesn't reside there any more, and we have no reason to believe that he is at the wreckage of any of the other cities. Therefore, it stands to reason that he must be in either Ossyria or Ludibrium."

Her gaze sharpened. "That is where you two come in. Ryden, you are to leave for Orbis post-haste with a small number of units. Sinclaire will aid you as backup. Together, you will search for Marron and return him to Elaesia as soon as possible."

Ryden nodded briefly. "With all due respect, Athena, I believe I won't need the presence of anyone else as backup."

Sinclaire bristled slightly, as Athena merely looked amused. "And why is that, Ryden?"

"Because…" He sighed. "You're right. I have known Dariel for a long time. And I know that if we try to take him by force, he'll just revolt further. I feel that only I can really convince him to do what's right, because, well, he's stubborn and doesn't like being force-fed things."

Ryden felt rather embarrassed at his slap-dash explanation, but Athena seemed satisfied. "Very well, Ryden. So be it. I have confidence in your abilities." Sinclaire looked relieved, until Athena added, "But I still don't like the idea of you going to Ossyria alone. I'll send Luke along to accompany you. Is that agreeable?"

The ranger looked as though cleaning a septic pool by hand would have sounded more agreeable, but he merely acquiesced with a brief nod. "Yes, Athena." He barely cast so much as a glance at Ryden as he steadily walked out of the room.

"What's with him?" Ryden shrugged.

"I apologize." Athena calmly shuffled a few papers on her desk. "Sinclaire tends to be slightly less agreeable when there isn't a woman accompanying him on missions."

"I…" Ryden bit his tongue and resisted the urge to laugh. "Well, thank you, Athena."

"It's no trouble, Ryden." Athena said, returning her attention to a new stack of papers, and that sealed off the conversation. Sighing, Ryden ran a hand along his sword and followed after Sinclaire.

Sinclaire rounded a corner and turned to Ryden. "Wait here. I'll get a few essentials." He immediately disappeared into a side staircase, leaving the crusader to fend for himself. However, his reverie was briefly interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

"I-" Ryden glanced upwards to see Keiga Seles, standing there almost casually. "Oh, hey, Seles. I didn't see you-"

Seles brushed off his student's hurried greeting. "Ryden…Athena told you, didn't she?"

"About what?"

"About getting As- Dariel back." The Dark Knight looked slightly flustered for a moment.

"Yes…yes, she did." Ryden stared questioningly into his teacher's eyes. "What is this about?"

"It's nothing." Seles drew back and began to walk away. Before he reached the end of the hall, he turned around abruptly. "Ryden…"

The swordsman spun around as well. "Yes?"

"Bring him back…safely." Seles turned away and disappeared through the door.

Ryden's eyes lingered over the door for a split second before Sinclaire reappeared from the side stairwell, a bag slung over his shoulder. Ryden could see the corner of a rather colorful magazine poking out of the bag; Sinclaire shoved it back in with a sheepish expression. "Come on. The station at Ellinia was destroyed, but we have transport carriers."

"Right." Following the ranger, Ryden tightened his grip on his sword and entered the large ship. Slowly, it shuddered to life, and floated into the air. With a great roar, the engines blazed to life as she ship comfortably blew through the sky.

-----

_You are one of the Divine Children, and along with the heirs of the warrior, magician, and thief, you will die trying to defeat Razier._

I tried to ignore the words that floated through my mind, but it was no use. Gault's stinging words cut into my mind and pained me more than any wound could. As if that wasn't enough, the image of him kissing Grace had effectively rendered my brain numb for the moment.

_I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die. I'm not going to…_

"DIE!!" I roared, unexpectedly loudly. Quite a few people around me twitched and edged away from me.

"Sorry." I stammered, crimson in the face. I walked through the now somewhat-empty halls before realizing that I didn't know where to go. My first impulse was Athena, but given Gault's words, I wouldn't get much from her.

_He's…Is what he said really true? Was Athena just playing into the hands of the prophecy this whole time?_

I shook my head angrily and continued to walk on until I reached the door to Athena's office. I stretched my hand out, grabbing ahold of the doorknob, and then listlessly let go. I didn't need her to tell me what I already knew.

"Phoenix?" The voice was feminine, which surprised me somewhat. I really didn't want to talk to any girls after the episode with Grace, but I suppose it couldn't be helped. I twisted my head around to see Arundale, surprisingly.

"What do you want?" I asked, rather unkindly.

She blinked. "Are you all right, Phoenix? You sound like Iggy when he forgets to take his, er, medicine…"

"You can stop acting like that. He told me the whole story already."

"Oh…" She suddenly appeared somewhat wistful. "I see."

"I wish I'd known earlier." Despite the mood I was in, I still felt a bit of pity and sadness for the dark-haired ranger. "I shouldn't have treated him like shit…"

"That's all right." She sighed. "I don't really blame you. I wasn't exactly attracted to him when we first met, either." She chuckled humorlessly.

"Yeah, well…" I sighed. "Now I know what it feels like to be him."

"Phoenix…" She touched my shoulder gently. "How can you say that?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I sighed. "Do you know what the Judgment of Lisandea is?"

"Who doesn't?" She sighed again. "Let me guess. You think you're going to die, aren't you?"

"Wow…How'd you figure that out?"

"I'm not stupid, Phoenix." She glanced away from me. "You're not going to die."

"How can you say that?" I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "All the heirs have died before me, except for one. What makes you think I'll be any different?"

"Maybe the prophecy isn't referring to you." she offered. "Perhaps it's referring to some other heir. Like…Gardner?"

I ran a hand across my hair. "Perhaps, but…" I scuffed my boots against the floor. "Maybe it would work out better if I died and Gardner lived. He definitely has a lot more experience than me…"

"But-" I could see that she was considering how best to phrase her next sentence. "Don't say that. You're underestimating yourself. Athena did say that you were supposed to fight Gault sometime…"

"She didn't say whether or not I was going to win, though." I flicked my wrist, causing a plume of flame to appear. "God, I used to love watching you and the rest of them do that…Now it just seems childish."

"Phoenix…" She sighed. "Rysdale, Iggy, Delinia, and I have been through worse than you. You really shouldn't make yourself feel any worse than you deserve. None of this is your fault."

"I guess." A smile crept across my face. "Thanks…"

"No problem, Phoenix." She smiled at me and turned away.

I blinked, wondering whether what I'd just seen was a hallucination. Sure enough, when I shook my head, the image of her smile was still freshly imprinted in my mind. I wondered how I had never noticed it before, but…

She had _fangs._

-----

"Come on!" The young boy, aged six or seven, dressed in a thick coat and waving a knife in his eager hand, pulled his younger sister by the other. "I saw something really cool yesterday, sis!"

"What was it?"

"It was a huge glowing rock!" The young boy was literally bursting with excitement. "It had runes carved all over it and everything! You've got to see it!"

"I…I dunno, big bro." The girl shyly pulled away. "Isn't the Snowfield really dangerous?"

"Nah. The werewolves don't come out when there's no full moon." He yanked his sibling by the hand along the path. "Come on! I'll show you where it is!"

The girl's protests were cut off further as they dashed along the rough path that led out of El Nath. Normally, there should have been plenty of Hectors, Jr. Yetis, Pepes, and the like to discourage travel through the Snowfield, but for some odd reason, the glittering plains were empty. This should have served as a warning to the foolish children, but it didn't.

After some rather strenuous climbing and not looking down, the two children (although they didn't know it at the time) were in the Wolf Territory, a patch of the Snowfield that, as its name suggested, was home to bloodthirsty werewolves. However, the sun was shining so brightly and there were no lycans about at the moment. The Snowfield was at its best- shining, picturesque, with snow gracefully covering the tips of the trees and mountains.

"A-are you sure it's around here somewhere?" the girl shivered.

The boy shrugged impatiently. "Of course I am! What, do you think I'd just drag you out here into the middle of nowhere?"

The girl looked rather unsure of herself and decided not to answer. Her brother only shook his head and continued on through the snowdrifts. "Come on. It should be around here somewhere."

They searched for what seemed like hours on end, checking every cave and crevice in the snow, to no avail. The girl continued to whine and tug at her brother's sleeve impatiently, as he frustrated searched for the great stone monument. "I know it was around here somewhere…"

"I-" Her sentence was cut off by an excited yell. "I found it! Inside here!"

Timidly, the girl ventured inside the cave, following her brother. An astounding sight met her eyes; despite the long journey, it was definitely worth it. A great obelisk of black crystal rested in the middle of the snowy glade, glowing just as her brother had said, with a beautiful, strange turquoise light. As they got closer, they could see a figure kneeling in front of the great stone; a crusader, by the looks of his sword. He had blonde hair, a dark-colored cuirass, and his cape billowed softly in the wind. He kept his back turned to the siblings, whispering a prayer at the altar.

"It's…beautiful." she murmured.

They stood in silence, watching the crusader pray silently, and finally decided to turn away. As they left, the girl clasped her brother's hand eagerly. "Can we come back tomorrow?"

He ruffled her hair. "Sure, sis."

They left the small valley through the tunnel and crawled out into the snow. Blinking as the bright sunlight streamed into their eyes, they set off towards the town of El Nath, glinting in the distance.

And then they suddenly realized why the Snowfield had been so deserted.

They had a second's warning before a loud, throaty growl erupted from a nearby bush. They looked up just in time to see a gigantic werewolf, its fur streaked with silver and dark red, its gigantic claws drawn.

Both of them stood there, frozen with fear, as the werewolf slowly contemplated its next meal. Almost paralyzed, the boy held up with dagger. "G…Get out of here, you big bad wolf…"

With a loud roar, the wolf swung its great paw, breaking the dagger cleanly in two and missing the boy's face by an inch. The children needed no more urging and fled, the great lycan hot on their heels.

Despite their running as fast as a six and five-year old could, the distance between them and the great predator was getting shorter by the second. With a squeal, the girl tripped over a stray chunk of ice and fell into the snow with a thud.

The boy whipped around just in time to see his sister lying on the ground with the great wolf a stone's throw away from her. He only had to think for a fraction of a second before he threw himself in front of the great creature, waiting for death.

There was a horrendous roar and the sound of flesh being torn, but when the boy opened his eyes he saw that he was still alive. So what could have-

He then noticed the crusader, his sword drawn and laced with steaming blood. He barely cast a glance at the shivering child before him. "You might want to be a little more careful, kid. The Snowfield isn't a good place for a playground."

Under normal circumstances, the boy might have replied, but given the situation he was in too much shock to move, let alone speak. The wounded beast gave a bloody roar and charged again, only to crash against the warrior's drawn blade, immovable as stone.

The crusader raised his sword, his hair fluttering in the wind, and ran his hand across its great length. "Fire Charge…Charge Blow!" With a shout, he charged forward at the great wolf and slammed his blade against it, leaping with flames. The wolf gave a bloody roar before it fell to the ground, crimson snow streaking the landscape.

The White Knight- crusader no longer- neatly wiped his sword on a patch of snow and sheathed it, turning to the shivering children. "You should really get home now. Your parents are probably worried sick."

The children were too stunned to speak as they stared up at their benefactor. Sighing lightly, the knight picked the children up, tucked one under each of his arms, and set off for El Nath.

-----

"I believe these belong to you."

The great knight neatly slid two shivering children in front of their parents. "I found them playing in the Snowfield. You might want to tell them that that place isn't safe, especially when the alpha wolf's prowling around…"

"Oh, _thank _you!" The woman clasped his hand tenderly. " Thank you, thank you, thank you…We are in your debt forever! Just name anything you want and it shall be yours!"

"That won't be necessary." He brushed aside a clump of his hair. "Although, a hot cup of coffee would be nice."

The woman instantly disappeared into the back of the inn, as the warrior sunk himself into a chair. "Kids these days…" he muttered, running a hand across his forehead.

The woman, blushing profusely, arrived with his coffee, and he thanked her before taking a sip. Inwardly, he thought he could detect a hint of what tasted like werewolf droppings- but he made no comment and continued to sip the hot drink in silence.

_It's been quite a while…_

He set the cup down, his stomach doing flip-flops, and lay back almost lazily in his chair. The continent of Ossyria had something for everyone; blizzard lands populated with werewolves, lava pits crowded with hell-dogs, underwater caverns with bloodthirsty sharks, and gigantic towers with flying stones ready to shoot lasers at a moment's notice.

Still, it was a relatively peaceful place- if you knew where to go. He exhaled; Victoria Island had once been his home, but those days were no more, what with the great war going on and all that. It was almost a repeat of the ancient fairy tale he'd heard so many times in his youth.

_You should be out there fighting with the rest of them, _his conscience chided, but he pushed it away. He wasn't really in any mood to argue with himself, and the caffeine and whatnot coursing through his veins only served to stall his trains of thought. He had more or less abandoned his ties to the great island, and here he was, resting in an inn sipping coffee while the rest of Victoria was in the midst of war.

He was now a mercenary, a bounty hunter, a ward of the people. Whenever one needed a service done, they would come to him, pay him money, and he would go off and do it. He prided himself on his sense of morality- he never accepted tasks such as assassinations unless the victim actually deserved it- but all the same, the shadow of guilt hung over him like a poisonous cloud.

He suddenly realized that the people respected him; they took advantage of his services and they looked up to him. But at the same time, he was furious with himself; furious for having fallen to the level of a thief, a common criminal.

He finished drinking the coffee, left the empty cup on the table, and abruptly walked outside, his armor clinking as he walked. The sunshine reflected off of the fallen snow and lent a rather mystic aura to the whole place, but he took no heed of it.

_When will I realize who I really am?_

He needed salvation, some sort of divine sign, _now._

"It's you."

The blonde-haired mercenary looked up to see…_him._

"What the hell are _you _doing here?" he snapped sullenly.

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you…Dariel." he replied, folding his arms across his chest. "It's really a great time to take a vacation in Nath these days, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Ryden." He shot a fiery glare at the swordsman before him. "Aren't you supposed to be back in Victoria defending the place, or something?"

"This isn't the time for that, Dariel." Ryden did not take his eyes off of the warrior before him. "You know, I never really would have thought that of all people, you would be the first one to wuss out and run off to Ossyria."

"Sh-shut up!" Marron's hands curled into fists. "What do you know?"

Ryden merely cocked a quizzical glance at him; Marron could nearly feel the swordsman's eyes drilling holes through him. "Since when did you decide to go goth?" He raised an eyebrow at his former companion's Dark Battle Road. "I really don't think black suits you…"

"I don't think it's your place to offer fashion sense now, Ryden." Marron said grumpily, returning his stare with an iron gaze of his own. "Now, what earthly reason would you have for running all the way here just to track an old flame down?"

"Old flame?" Ryden lowered his eyebrow. "Is that any way to treat an old friend, Dariel?"

"Since when have we been on first-name terms?" Marron spat. A few of the townspeople had scurried into their homes, knowing the conversation was not going to get any friendlier from here. "In any case, I don't know any Dariels with such poor taste in friends."

Ryden merely smiled and closed his eyes. "It's nice to see you've developed a sense of humor…Marron." he added, in a slightly spiteful tone. "If I remember correctly, the last time we met face-to-face, you were trying to kill me."

"And I would have succeeded as well, if it hadn't been for Wolfen." Marron's eyes thinned. "It would be in your best interest to leave while you can, before you seriously provoke me."

"That's cute, Marron." Ryden unsheathed his sword, a beautifully-carved sliver of steel in the sharp sunlight. "You may have been Seles' first student, but that doesn't mean you should overestimate yourself…"

Marron unsheathed his sword as well, a gigantic Heaven's Gate, flashing brightly in the winter sun. "Ryden, say what you will, but I am the rightful heir to the leadership of the warriors. As such, I don't think you are in any position to judge my powers."

"Really?" Ryden's eyes twinkled for a moment in the sun. "Then, why would the _heir _of the warriors be lounging off in Ossyria while the whole continent of Victoria's at war?"

Marron's eyes flared up with fury for a second before he spoke. "I destroyed the opposing factions in the initial battle a month ago! What earthly reason would you have to be sure they're here again?"

"Yes, I heard about that." Ryden said calmly. "However, given your…isolation, I think it's time to tell you. The formation of the unified state of Elaesia was announced immediately after the first battle. Athena and the other wisemen have every reason to believe that another attack could be expected. It's your duty to be at the frontlines with the rest of them." His normally gentle gaze sharpened. "Why do you think I bothered coming all this way to see you?"

"So, you're just going to go off and conscript me?" Marron growled, his grip on his weapon tightening.

"If I have to, then yes, I will." Ryden said, a little too cheerfully.

"Well, I don't give a Balrog's _shit._" he spat. "Victoria can go screw itself for all I care. I've lost all faith in that place now."

"Why?" Ryden said, gently. "Ever since…your father died?"

"I've avenged him, and that's all I need to know." Marron replied, rather laconically.

"That doesn't matter anymore!" Ryden roared, finally losing his temper. "I know how you feel about your father, but do you realize how many more people could die if you don't go back and fight?" His gaze narrowed. "I heard stories of you using the legendary forbidden arte. Brimstone Tempest. With someone like you, we could easily plow through Gault's forces…"

"Brimstone Tempest was merely a side-chapter in the story of my life." Marron replied, almost mechanically. "Do you think that's all I'm good for- a pawn in your game of good and evil?"

"This is different." Ryden snarled. "If we lose this game, we'll lose everything. You don't-"

"I told you, I don't _care_!" he roared, slamming his sword into the ground. "Victoria was everything I hated. The bones of my father and the image of Seles rest there. I won't go back!"

"Is this about Seles?" Ryden said, quietly. "What did Seles ever do to you?"

"He…" Marron gripped his sword so hard his knuckles turned white. "Seles…he…he _betrayed _me. He…he destroyed my entire life with his training. Do you know what it was like, having to practice arte after arte, day in, day out?"

"That wasn't it." Ryden said, even more quietly than before. "You loved the practice. _We _loved the practice. Do you still remember the days we used to cleave up Fire Drakes in Perion? Listen to me, Dariel. Those were the best times of my life- because I had _friends. _I was always the lonely orphan until you and Wolfen showed up. Don't lie to me, Dariel. You enjoyed those times too, and I'm not going to let a friend of mine destroy himself like this."

This had a rather profound effect on Marron; he froze, his visage turning into one of mingled shock and anger. Most noticeably, Ryden saw, he seemed to twitch when he'd said the word 'friend'.

"You wouldn't understand, Ryden." he said, finally, so quietly that Ryden could barely hear. "You'll never understand me, no matter how hard you try. And you're better off not knowing."

_None of you…will ever understand me!_

"Dariel, _no._" Ryden said, stepping forward. "You're right. I may not understand you fully, and to be honest, I don't even have a right to. But I do care about you, and I care about Victoria Island. I know that in order to survive, we need you. Elaesia needs you."

He stared directly into his former companion's eyes. "Listen to me, Dariel. I can help you."

Marron met Ryden's stare for a second before turning away. "I don't need your help." he snapped sullenly. "What happened between Seles and myself isn't for you to know. And believe me when I say you're better off not knowing." He turned away and began to walk away at a resolute pace.

"Marron, don't!" Ryden shouted. "Dariel! Stop! I-"

But his words were useless; Marron continued to walk through the streets of El Nath, the distance between the two warriors growing with each step. Ryden grit his teeth.

_I'm sorry, my friend…but I have no choice._

"Aslan!" he called out, at the top of his voice.

The word rippled through the air like a shockwave. Marron froze in mid-step, hanging there like a feather in mid-flight…then he slowly turned his face to Ryden, a vein pulsing in his temple.

"What…" He took a deep breath. "…did you just say?"

Ryden closed his eyes. "Listen to me…Aslan Seles."

"How…" Marron's face had gone the color of the snow about him. "How did you know-"

"It wasn't hard to figure out." Ryden said softly, his eyes closed. "I knew it ever since Seles told us about you. He lied to us because he didn't want us to know the truth, but I know now."

"Listen to me!" Marron's voice rang out like a dragon's roar. "Whatever you may think, Keiga Seles is _not_ my father! Kain Marron was my father!"

"Aslan…" Ryden took a deep breath. "You don't have to do this. It's bad enough that you're lying to me, but what's worse is that you're lying to yourself. You've been doing this for the past few years. It's over now. What have you done to yourself?"

"He…I-" Marron looked as though there was something lodged in his throat. Several times, he opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no sound came out. Ryden watched all of this sadly. _I'm sorry, Dariel…_

Finally, the warrior uttered, in a voice almost too low to hear, "He…He never treated me like a son." His grip on his sword tightened once more and he slammed it forcibly into the ground. "He…abandoned me. What kind of father does that to his own son? He deserts me for thirteen years and doesn't show even the least little bit of remorse!"

"That's not true!" Ryden held his sword aloft so that it shined in the sunlight. "He did care about you. Why else would he have made you the heir of the warriors?"

"He treated me like a student!" Marron snarled. "I couldn't accept him as a father! How would you feel if you knew your father had deserted you and left you in the world to die?!"

"You're wrong, Aslan." Ryden said, as calmly as he could. He knew how much he was hurting his companion by using his real name, but there was simply no other way. "Seles didn't desert you. He left you with someone who could be a much better father to you than he ever could. He always loved you."

"I…" Marron turned away, his face bowed to the ground. "That's…"

"If you don't believe me, then come back with me to Victoria and see for yourself." Ryden said matter-of-factly.

Marron silently stood in the cold winter air, a sudden gust of wind blowing up his hair and cape and lending an almost eerie air to the landscape. Ryden squinted his eyes, trying to read Marron's face, but the expression on the heir-turned-mercenary's face was undecipherable.

Then, he twirled his sword about his chest, and slammed it into the ground. "Dragon Fury!"

Ryden had a second's warning before a gigantic wave of ice and slag leapt at him like a gigantic monster with its jaws open. He leapt out of the way, rolling across the frozen ground, as the burst of icy flak leveled a large grove of trees.

"You'll have to kill me, then!" Marron snarled, a feral look crossing his face, as he pointed his sword at Ryden. "I'm never going back! You don't know what it's like for me there- to be with _him_!"

Ryden got to his feet, his sword at his side. "No, old friend, I'd never kill you. I'll just give you a decision to make." He pointed his katana at Marron, their blades shining dangerously in the sunlight.

"It looks like I really don't have a choice, do I?" Marron replied, not taking his eyes off Ryden.

"Fine, then." Ryden spat in the snow and turned to face him. "We'll solve this the old-fashioned way. You and I have a sword duel right now, on the third-class instructors' crag."

"Really?" A flicker of what seemed like amusement crossed Marron's face. "You might have a little bit of a hard time dueling the heir of the warriors, Ryden…"

Ryden's small smile did not falter. "Yes, perhaps…if I wasn't the secondary heir of the warriors."

Marron's face went a shade of ivory again. "W-what?" he sputtered, losing his composure for a split second.

"Long story, short explanation." Ryden continued smoothly. "Anyway, we'll have a simple little duel. Last man standing wins. If I win, you come back to Elaesia with me."

Marron's eyes narrowed to slits. "And if I win?"

Ryden fell silent for a moment. "I give you…my life!"

From the background, Ryden heard Sinclaire's voice, silent until now. "Ryden, are you freaking crazy? You can't go throwing your life away over this-"

"I know what I'm doing, Captain." Ryden said, not taking his eyes off of Marron. "So, old friend…what'll it be?"

Marron sheathed his sword. "If that's the way you want to settle this, then fine." He turned and began to walk away. "I'll meet you in ten minutes' time at the peak behind the third-class instructors' house. Be there."

"I will." Ryden said, his eyes following the lone crusader as he walked.

He heard footsteps as the tall figure of Luke Sinclaire rushed up behind him. "Ryden…What the hell did you do that for?" he stammered.

"To get him back." Ryden said, not meeting the ranger's gaze.

"But-" Sinclaire was at a momentary loss for words. "What am I going to tell Athena when I have to drag your corpse all the way back to Elaesia?"

Ryden slowly turned on his heel to look the ranger straight in the eye. "Tell her…I died trying to save a friend."

Sinclaire fell silent as Ryden broke the stare. "Come on. I hope you brought some food along with you. I don't want to fight on an empty stomach." He sheathed his sword and walked off towards the inn, leaving a nonplussed Sinclaire behind.

"Seriously…" The Elaesian captain shook his head. "What a…" He searched around in his head for a suitable adjective to describe his comrade.

It was some time before he realized he couldn't find one.

-----

He arrived at exactly nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds past the hour.

"You know, it didn't have to come to this." Ryden said as he unsheathed his sword. "Why do you have to keep doing this to yourself? Just accept the facts and move on."

"There are no facts, Ryden. Not any more." Marron drew his Heaven's Gate. "Are you sure you want to duel me? It may be the last thing you ever do."

"I'd only be running out on my friend if I didn't." Ryden replied, spinning the sword around in his palm.

Marron sighed. "So be it." He glanced at Ryden. "Did you find a witness?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." Ryden glanced over at Sinclaire, who gave a brief nod in return.

"Are you two ready?" the ranger called from the side.

Both Ryden and Marron gave short nods of assent.

"Then…begin."

-----

He didn't even know he had been stabbed until he saw the blood sheeting over the snow, staining it a rough crimson.

_Where am I…What am I…Think. _He pulled himself to his feet, the coldness of the weather numbing the pain that should have been there otherwise, and staggered to his sword, fallen in the snow. Behind him, he could see his opponent, whose own sword was laced with steaming veins of red.

"Is that all you have to offer?" his opponent sniffed, somewhat arrogantly, before charging again. Muttering obscenities, he swung his own sword up to block against the blunt force of the attack, sparks flying through the air as the two combatants' swords ground angrily against each other.

The two swords seemed to dance in midair, light glinting off their painstakingly sharp edges, as Sinclaire watched in amazement. Swordplay like this…no, it wasn't even swordplay. This was fighting that had been elevated to the level of art; two impeccable fighters matching wits and blades against each other, each slash and thrust a perfectly-crafted sliver of light in midair.

One swordsman relentlessly and agilely swung his blade against his opponent's, a prism of sparks showering the snow with each contact. The other twirled and spun his blade every which way to block the strikes, the shining brand almost defying gravity as it looped through the air. Neither fighter was willing to give ground as they furiously sparred with each other, the sound of clanging weapons echoing through the cold, dry air.

After a particularly vicious strike, both combatants skidded backwards slightly from one another, panting. For a second, Sinclaire thought that they had tired each other out, but he was mistaken when one warrior raised his sword and spun through the air, roaring, "Power Strike!"

The other swordsman brought the edge of his weapon to guard against the incoming assault, countering, "Power Guard!" in return. There was a flash of light as the weapons met, sending snow flying and obscuring the battlefield for a split second; when it cleared, both fighters were continuing to rage against one another, matching each other slash for slash and guard for guard.

_It's like…_Sinclaire was lost in wonder as he watched the ensuing duel. _It's like watching a duel in a mirror. They're both matching each other's abilities attack for attack. My goddess…I wonder how exactly Ryden is going to pull through this one._

Suddenly, one of the fighters raised his sword and roared, "Shout!" A flash of bright turquoise light burst from his hands and struck the other head-on, sending him flying through the bright snow. He landed, albeit somewhat awkwardly, on his feet, and roared, "Fire Charge!"

An inferno of orange flames burst from his sword, casting a fiery glare over the battlefield as he charged, the heat from his enchanted blade pulsing through the air and melting the flying snow into water. He leaped high into the air and brought his sword down upon his opponent, arcane flames erupting from the impact and sending the latter staggering backwards. Without pausing to miss a beat, he raised his blade and roared, "Ice Charge!"

The drops of water that had hovered in the air a second before now re-froze, their atoms reforming through the warrior's arcane spell, shaping themselves into a multitude of icy needles and flinging themselves at the swordsman. He raised his blade in time to roar "Power Guard!", the icicles shattering harmlessly against the metal of his blade.

"That was a nice trick." Ryden said coolly, twirling his sword in the air once more before running forward and unleashing a flurry of short stabs. "I guess Seles didn't pull any strings training you."

Marron did not reply as he effortlessly hewed through the air with the gigantic sword in his grasp. "Dragon Fury!"

Ryden blocked the attack, though not effortlessly, and turned to face his opponent. "Not bad!" He raised his sword. "Combo Attack…Panic!"

Motes of blue-white light danced around the raven-haired crusader as he made his attack, sending chunks of ice and snow flying as a rift of pure energy ripped through the ground, unbalancing Marron for a split second. Not one to miss openings, Ryden immediately leaped into the fray, his sword glowing with pent-up energy. "Burst Slash!"

Although neither Ryden nor his sword seemed to move, deep slashes could be seen along the plates of Marron's armor; Sinclaire watched with astonishment. _Whoa…I can't even see his sword move. That's…fast…_

Ryden leapt gracefully to the ground as Marron staggered backwards, faint drops of blood oozing from his rent cuirass. "Impressive, Ryden." He managed to get to his feet. "Now…let's see what you can do against this!" He raised his sword. "Heaven's Charge!"

Ryden barely had time to react before something crashed into him with the force of a meteor, sending him flying through the air. Yet, even as he flew, another burst of iridescent light impacted against him, driving him higher and higher in a death dance, as his limp body flew through the sky like a rag doll.

Marron completed his attack and landed softly in the snow, Ryden falling with a thud into a snowbank. He staggered to his feet, the snow underneath him stained red. "Marron…I-" He gasped and staggered in pain. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"I've…trained." he said, shortly, before charging yet again. "Rending Spear Drive!" A sudden burst of lightning caught Ryden unawares, launching him into the air as Marron slammed him back into the ground again, sanguine rivers staining the snow.

Marron paused to eye his former companion lying on the frozen ground. "Looks like you still need some practice, Ryden." he said, before turning away.

_Damn…_A bubble of blood formed at the corner of Ryden's mouth and burst. _I don't know where he picked up those attack artes…but I have to defeat him! Otherwise…Elaesia's done for!_

He raised his blade to the sky and roared, "Dracon!"

A bolt of white lightning shot down from the heavens, enveloping Ryden in its wake; Marron had to shield his eyes from the light as it folded over him. When the flash cleared, Ryden was there no longer; instead, a significantly taller, silver-haired, cobalt-eyed figure was standing in his place, wielding a gigantic blade that crackled with bursts of sapphire lightning.

"Holy…" Marron drew in a breath. _When'd he learn to do that?_

The figure- Marron wasn't sure what to call the entity before him- raised the great sword and commanded, "Million Stab!"

Marron felt himself being thrown into the air as a series of endless slashes impacted against his armor, the sound of cracking metal filling the air. He landed on the hard ground with a thud, as Ryden raised his sword over him and pointed it threateningly at his neck.

"You're not the only one who's been training these days, Dariel." Ryden said. Marron gulped, beads of sweat flowing down his face; he could clearly sense a powerful aura emanating from the swordsman above him.

_Damn. He's strong…stronger than I would have thought. _

His gaze flickered over to his Heaven's Gate, the handle of the great sword just an inch away from his palm. _But…that doesn't mean I can't defeat him!_

Unexpectedly, Marron launched himself upwards and caught Ryden in the chest with a spin kick, causing him to reel for a precious second. Within seconds, Marron had picked up his sword and raised it into the air for an attack. "Fire Charge…Combo Attack…Dragon's Blood!" As the power of all three classes seeped hinto him, his blade began to glow with flaming energy. "Imperial Slaughter!"

He plunged the point of the blade into the frozen ground, causing an array of blue-red glyphs to appear beneath Ryden's feet. The latter had a second's warning before the ground disintegrated, catching him in a forceful stream of arcane energy. Ryden was thrown into the air, landing on his feet as the spirit of his father healed his wounds.

"That was a nice trick, Dariel." he said, brushing some of his hair back as Marron panted. "But you haven't seen anything yet!" He raised his sword and leapt into the air, his sword raised and pointed at his adversary. "Air Raid!"

Bolts of lightning flashed from the point of Ryden's sword and gathered in midair, forming a great globe of energy. Before the latter could guard, there was a thunderous explosion as an indomitable burst of electrical energy exploded through the ground, sending gigantic pieces of ice and earth into the air as lightning continued to pound the ground.

Ryden finished up the attack and drifted back to earth, the winded figure of Marron kneeling on the broken ground, his sword embedded in the earth.

"That…" He coughed, a few drops of blood hitting the ground, "…was pretty good, Ryden…"

"Marron, I don't want to do this." Ryden said, his blade raised. "You haven't changed. You're still the Dariel Moron that we all know and love. Go back to Elaesia. Your fathers- both of them- are waiting for you."

Marron continued to stare at the ground. _Maybe…Maybe what Ryden says is true…Maybe Seles…_

He shook his head furiously, his bloodstained hair fluttering in the cold wind. "No! I'll fight to the death over this!"

Ryden shook his head. "Marron, listen to me. Seles-"

"No!" His glare did not falter. "This isn't a question about whether Seles is my father or not anymore! This is a fight to settle who we are!"

"Marron…" Ryden slowly lowered his sword and gazed upon the warrior, kneeling upon the ground. "What are you talking about?"

Marron stared at Ryden, their eyes fiercely locked onto each others'. "As two of Seles' pupils, we're going to find out who's stronger…who the real heir of the warriors is!"

"Dariel…" Ryden stared at the warrior before him. He was the same Dariel Moron indeed, stubborn to the very end…but as Ryden gazed into his companion's face, he was confronted by a look that he had never seen on his friend's face before. A look of pure determination and fury.

Ryden closed his eyes, tears leaking from underneath the lids. "So be it, Dariel. It seems I have no choice…" He raised his blade and pointed it at his friend. "If that's the reason that you want to continue this fight…then I won't lose! Get ready!" He held his blade straight and charged forward, the landscape beginning to blur around him. "Stinger!"

He launched himself forward, expecting the blade to run through Marron at any moment.

Suddenly, he heard a shout of "Stance!"

It was as if he had run into a solid, immovable wall; Ryden opened his eyes and saw that Marron was on his feet once more, his blade locked against Ryden's in a combat stance. Ryden's jaw nearly dropped down in shock; how was he able to thwart such a powerful attack with such a simple guard?

"Holy Charge!" Marron raised his sword, a golden light emanating from it, and wrenched aside Ryden's sword with a sudden burst of strength. "Panic!"

The blade slammed into Ryden with devastating force; he was thrown into the air and skidded backwards along the ground, leaving a crimson trail behind. He staggered to his feet and gasped, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. _Holy Charge…Why do I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before?_

Marron raised his palm and commanded, "Monster Magnet!" Ryden suddenly felt something grab ahold of him, like an invisible hand, and found himself flying towards Marron. Almost too calmly, Marron seized ahold of Ryden's neck, flames gathering at the tips of his fingers. "Inferno Charge!"

A series of fiery shockwaves burst through the air, melting the snow within a large radius, as bursts of flame energy pulsed through Ryden's body. As Ryden struggled to maintain consciousness, despite his wounds, Marron flung him into the air and raised his sword. "Rush!"

There was a swishing noise, a loud bone-shattering crack, and Ryden found himself lying on his back, pain obscuring his vision, as Marron stood on the opposite end of the battlefield, apparently having run the length of the ground in a split second and running through Ryden in the process.

Ryden tried to get up, but the pain was too intense. He could only limply lay on the ground, blood beginning to pool underneath him.

_Stance…Holy Charge…Rush…_

Marron's footsteps echoed across the crag as he defiantly walked over to Ryden, pinning him to the ground, the tip of his sword aimed at his throat.

"It…can't be." Ryden managed to gasp out, blood gurgling from his mouth. "You're…"

"So, you finally figured it out." Marron said, his gaze immovably deep. "Yes, Ryden. I traveled to Ossyria to obtain the legendary gift of the dragons and the fourth class!"

The point of his blade began to glow with a golden light. "I'll leave you with one last thought, Ryden." His eyes narrowed. "My father- not Seles- named me after the legendary Paladin, Dariel Ryuuzaki. I had never thought I would achieve his legacy, but now the time has come."

He raised his sword. "I am now a Paladin, and as promised, you die!"

The sword flashed downwards, cutting through the air, and crushed through Ryden's ribcage, bone and flesh splintering as the metal struck its mark.

Ryden tried to lift his head, hot, sticky blood gushing from his lips. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came forth; instead, a grotesque, gurgling gasp, accompanied by a series of sanguine bubbles.

Then, slowly, his head fell back limply against the ground, and a shroud fell over his eyes.

-----

Dariel Marron stood, illuminated against the rays of the sun, over the body of Ryden, son of the legendary crusader Dracon. Slowly, he lifted his blade from the body of the swordsman, a stream of blood gushing forth from the wound.

"Ryden…" He spoke the word with such a strange air that it was impossible to tell whether he felt any remorse or not. "I'm sorry that it had to end like this." He neatly wiped his sword on a patch of nearby snow and sheathed it, turning away from the body.

Suddenly, there was a shout of "Inferno!" Marron leapt back, steam flying through the air as the snow melted. When it cleared, Marron could see the figure of Luke Sinclaire standing before him, his bow raised.

"What…the…_hell_…did you kill him for?!" Sinclaire roared, his eyes reduced to narrow slits of fury.

Marron kept his face bowed to the ground. "I…"

"That was totally unnecessary!" Sinclaire continued to shout, his bow pointing dangerously at Marron's head. "You could have just asked him to surrender!"

"He wouldn't have." Marron said, not looking up. "And neither would I. It's for the best."

A vein bulged in Sinclaire's temple. "_For the best?!_ You don't know anything! How can you possibly say that? He flew all the way to Ossyria to see you because he's your friend, and you kill him!"

"He offered his life as collateral for the duel," Marron said, his face shadowed, "and observing the ancient rules of a battle, I had to comply."

"You…" Beads of angry sweat slid down the back of the ranger's neck. "I ought to shoot you right now, you bastard…"

But as he was about to release the bowstring, he saw that Marron was crying; there were no sounds of sobbing or sniffling from the Paladin, yet the drops that fell from his face could hardly be mistaken for blood.

"I…" Sinclaire was at a total loss for words.

"It doesn't matter anymore." Marron said, taking a step past the ranger and preparing to leave.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a noise that erupted through the air; Marron paused. The sound he had heard was unmistakenly a dragon's roar; there was no other possibility. But dragons didn't come anywhere near El Nath…

"_Are you surprised to see me…Dariel?"_

Marron whipped around, and an impossible sight met his eyes. Ryden was back on his feet again, alive…and impossibly, looking even stronger than before. As Marron's eyes widened in shock, he could see that great, spectral wings, darker than the night, were now folded around Ryden's body; his features had become more elongated, claws replacing his fingers and toes…and even a tail protruding from his behind.

Ryden had somehow assumed the form of a _Necrofalchion_; a legendary dragon of darkness.

"You're…" Marron's mind was going wild as he struggled to keep from losing his balance out of surprise. "You're not Ryden, are you?"

Ryden- if he could even be called Ryden anymore at that point- gave a mocking roar of laughter. "_Ryden? Ah, yes, the son of the ignorant man that I possessed some time ago. You need not worry about him. He is still alive. _The creature's voice didn't even sound human anymore; it was as though Ryden's voice had been combined with that of a dragon's hissing.

"What have you done to him?!" Marron roared, his Heaven's Gate drawn once more.

"_Nothing. As matters stand right now, he is my host…just as Dracon had been some years ago. While I despise him, I cannot let him die…for he and I are one as much as a body and soul. If he dies, I will cease to exist…and that is why I lent him some of my mana."_

"You…" Marron's fury quickly turned to horrified surprise. "Who…are you?"

The demonic dragon that had taken ahold of Ryden grinned and spread its wings. "_If you really wish to know, Paladin…I am Alastor, born of the mana of Dracon's soul, and the cause of your incoming death! Begone!"_

A sudden bolt of dark lightning sprung from Alastor's claw and impacted forcefully against Marron, sending him sprawling. He staggered to his feet. "I won't let you get away that easily!" He ran up to Alastor and raised his sword, preparing to strike, but at the same time, he stared into the demon's eyes.

They were Ryden's eyes. Marron couldn't believe it; somehow, Ryden and the spirit had been fused into one. So Ryden was still very much alive, and determined to continue their duel as much as Alastor.

_This…complicates things a bit._ Suddenly, Alastor lashed out with Ryden's fist, sending Marron hurtling across the ground, the sword flying out of his grasp.

"Argh!" Marron scrambled to his feet, searching for his sword, but suddenly, Alastor unfurled its wings and flew through the air, landing in front of him. Marron quickly paled. _Crap…The demon's blocking my way. There's nothing I can do…_

But to his amazement, Alastor bent down and picked up the Heaven's Gate, then presented it to him, the handle pointed at his face. Astonished, Marron stared at the demon.

"Don't think that you can walk away from this one, Dariel." he said, his face completely serious. "We have a duel to finish."

Marron's blood ran cold. _So…Ryden…that really is you! _Alastor was forced out of his mind now; the being standing in front of him, offering him his sword…really was Ryden, fused with the demon, but Ryden, nevertheless.

"Fine, then!" Marron snatched the sword from Ryden's outstretched hand and twirled it through the air. "Prepare to die!" He raised his blade. "Holy Charge!"

But to his utter amazement, Ryden only smiled, and as the blade flew downwards, he raised a hand and stopped the blade with his palm. Marron's eyes widened as the edge of his sword pushed against Ryden's hand; it should have been cleaved in half instantly, but Ryden's hand easily stood up against the sword like a shield.

"Don't you remember, Marron?" Ryden smiled, showing a fanged grin as the blade pushed against his palm. "I'm already dead…"

He raised his other hand, glowing with energy. "Devil Trigger Explosion!"

There was a thunderous burst of dark flame as Marron was thrown backwards, a gaping hole in his armor. As he looked down, he could see dark blood oozing from the wound, pain beginning to overcome him. _Damn it…He's too strong!_

Ryden slowly stepped forward, his blade raised.

_But…I'm not going to die here! _With a great effort, Marron raised his sword and plunged it into the ground.

"_Brimstone…Tempest!!"_

The ground was rent apart as bursts of volcanic steam erupted from the ground, instantly melting all the snow in the vicinity. Ryden barely had time to blink before the ground beneath his feet was obliterated, bursts of lava and volcanic boulders colliding into him and sending him flying through the air.

_No…Even with Devil Trigger…he's just too powerful…It seems like Athena wasn't exaggerating when she described the power of this legendary arte…_

Ryden landed with a thud onto the hard ground, severely crisscrossed with slash marks and burns. Alastor's temporary control had completely drained all of his mana, leaving him weak and wounded upon the ground, unable to do anything.

_I lost the duel…_

He opened his eyes to see Marron, also severely wounded in the chest, but walking fairly steadily towards him, his sword raised.

_I'm sorry, Dariel…_

He closed his eyes, awaiting death.

But it never came. Instead, he felt a warm, bloodstained hand force open his mouth and he felt something hard slide in. He felt the hand squeeze his throat gently, forcing him to swallow, and he suddenly felt energy flow into him.

"Why did you…" Ryden stared up at Marron, his expression unreadable. "I…lost the duel. Why did you save me?"

"Because…" For the first time since their meeting, Marron sincerely smiled. "Because we're a team, and teammates don't kill each other…even if they want to."

"I…" Ryden swallowed, a lump beginning to form in his throat. "Dariel…you…"

"Don't mention it…friend." Marron gasped weakly, before collapsing onto the ground.

"Dariel!" Ryden swore, staggering to his feet. Marron had probably force-fed him a mana elixer pill or something along those lines, but he had apparently neglected to leave any for himself. "Damn it! He needs medical help, now!"

"Don't look at me, I'm not a healer!" Sinclaire spat back.

"Then-" Ryden's mind was racing. "Take him to the third-class instruction house! Maybe someone there can help!"

Sinclaire ran over, slung the body of the Paladin over his shoulders, and with Ryden's help, managed to lift Marron to the residence of the third-class instructors.

-----

There was a frantic knocking at the door of the third-class residence. Sighing, Tylus, the warrior instructor, eased himself out of his chair by the fire. Probably another idiot just having hit 70 and begging to take the exam now. He opened the door.

Only to find two extremely beaten-up warriors and a ranger standing in the doorframe.

"What the-" His breath caught in his throat as the ranger began to speak.

"Someone's been hurt. It's an emergency." the ranger said, his auburn hair falling past his shoulders. "Name's Luke Sinclaire, of the Elaesian Armed Forces. These are Ryden, son of Dracon, and Aslan Seles. As you can see, they need a little bit of help right now."

"Ryden? Seles?" Tylus blinked, as though he couldn't believe it. "You mean the sons of the two greatest warriors that ever lived are standing in the doorway right now?"

"They're about to die, if you don't do something!" Sinclaire spat. At this, Robeira and Rene, the two other instructors for magicians and bowmen, hurried over from the fire to look at the victims.

"Oh my…" Robeira's sharp eyes glanced over the warriors' wounds. "Those are serious indeed. Any normal person would have died instantly from wounds like those…"

"They're going to need some rest right away." Rene's eyes flickered over to four beds, empty at the time. "You and Robeira can sleep on the floor tonight, Tylus. These two need to lie down for the moment." Saying so, Tylus and Sinclaire heaved the bloodied bodies of the warriors onto the beds.

"Will…they be all right?" Sinclaire dared to ask as Robeira examined the bodies, healing magic glowing at her fingertips.

Robeira sighed. "It's a miracle you brought them here when you did. Otherwise, they probably would have succumbed to blood loss. In any case, I can only hope they'll be fine."

Sinclaire raked a hand across his forehead. "Yeah, well, I'd hate to explain to Athena how two of her best operatives got mangled up fighting each other…"

"Athena?" Rene cut in. "Is she well? What has happened to her?"

Sinclaire blinked. "Ah, Rene, she's fine…She just has a lot on her plate to deal with, that's all."

"Too many young archers?" she asked.

"Not exactly." Sinclaire rolled his eyes. "Too many young archers, warriors, mages, and thieves is more like it."

"What do you mean?" Rene asked, her eyes narrowing.

He sighed. "There was an…incident some time ago that necessitated the formation of the unified state of Elaesia. Athena was put in charge of leading it."

"The formation of a unified state?" Rene stared, as Robeira and Tylus looked interested as well. "Whatever could necessitate the need to require that?"

"There's a conflict going on in Victoria right now." Sinclaire shrugged. "It's rather complicated to describe at the moment." He sighed and lay back against the wall. "Is there any means of contacting Athena from here? I'll need to send her the news that we'll be a little delayed in getting back…"

Tylus and Robeira shrugged, but Rene's face lighted up. "I may have something." She ventured over to a desk and motioned for Sinclaire to sit down. As he did so, she took something from the desk; it was a mirror, framed with gold and jewels.

"What exactly is this?"

"It's a toy that Athena and I used to play with when we were young." Rene shrugged. "It's a magical set of mirrors. Athena has one and I have the other. We used to communicate with them all the time."

"How does it work?" he asked, tapping the mirror.

"It's activated by our language." she said, murmuring a few lines of elvish as she picked the mirror up. The glass seemed to ripple slightly before it faded to reveal Athena's face.

"Rene?" the image said, looking rather surprised. "Sinclaire? What is this all about?"

"We found Aslan Seles, just as you asked, Athena." Sinclaire said with a brief bow.

Her face relaxed slightly. "Thank you, Luke."

"Yes, well, we got a little held up." He glanced over to the two warriors lying in the beds. "Ryden and Seles were somewhat injured. They should be ready to go tomorrow, so we'll return by then."

"Understood." Athena gave a quick nod before her image faded away, leaving only clear glass.

"Nice." Sinclaire glanced at the mirror before returning it to the desk. "I wouldn't mind having one of those…" His eyes flickered to a small framed picture on the desk; as he squinted, he could see it was that of a twin boy and girl, aged about five. The girl looked somewhat familiar…

"Who's that?" he asked, pointing at the photo.

Rene's face seemed to harden for a moment. "They…were my son and daughter."

"I…" Sinclaire fell silent for a second. "I didn't know you had children…"

"I don't like to talk about it." She glanced out the window. "They were killed in an unfortunate accident thirteen years ago."

The ranger decided not to pursue the issue further. "I should probably be leaving now." he said with a faint bow. "I'll stay at the inn or something…"

"No, Sinclaire. You should stay here and rest as well." Rene said, in a serious tone.

"I…" He looked somewhat flustered. "If you wish, Rene."

-----

"Where are those meddling fools?" Gault Isentryx murmured, sitting on a stray piece of ancient column in the Sanctuary. "I asked them to come about five minutes ago…"

Slowly, shadows began to appear around him as endless Tauros and Balrogs, clad in black, began to move around the great underground city, each off on their own duties. Sighing, Gault pointed at a random Balrog.

"You." he said, and the Balrog almost squeaked in fear (although that would have been extremely unusual). "Where are the Devil Three?"

"_Forgive me, Lord Isentryx, I don't know!" _the Balrog growled. "_Perhaps they went outside to do some hunting…"_

Gault sighed. "Very well, you're dismissed." The Balrog scurried off, apparently glad not to have been blown to bits, as the dark bowman ran a hand through his hair. "My goodness, everyone here seems so dismal…" He cast a glance at Grace, sitting beside him, her hands laid in his.

Gault cast a glance at Grace and smiled to himself. _Ah, Zeraion Phoenix. I would have given the world again just to see your face when she kissed me. Not that I honestly cared about it…she is only a soul, after all…but I must admit, that was extremely amusing._

His thoughts were interrupted by a low growl from another Balrog. "The Devil Three have arrived."

"It's about damned time." Gault said, rather impatiently. "Bring them in."

There was the sound of creaking gears as a large set of door in the background opened, and three Crimson Balrogs ventured into the room. Unlike the other Crimson Balrogs that populated the Sanctuary, these Balrogs seemed much more sinister than a normal demon, if such a thing were even possible. Unlike other Balrogs, they wore armor around their shoulders and chest, and their bone-skull helmets were of pure black. In fact, they were the skulls of Necrofalchios; legendary dark dragons. They carried gigantic, evilly-shimmering weapons on their backs.

The first one, dressed in crimson red-black armor, was named Narzvar Gazhevrog; however, as Gault didn't bother with the ancient demonic dialect anymore, he was simply called Nebuchadnezzar. His weapon was a gigantic blade of Necrofalchion bone, so sharp that it could cut through steel without trouble, and he also wielded the ability to control fire. This made combat with him near impossible, as the stains of blood dotting his blade showed.

The second one, flanking the right side, was called Melchior. His armor was black with gold-plate, and he wielded a gigantic axe that was kept in a strap on his back, evilly shining with not-yet-dry blood. His element was lightning, and he loved to use it as much as possible, as many unfortunate travelers were apt to find out.

Lastly, the one in the center and the apparent leader, was called Balthazar. Like Nebuchadnezzar and Melchior, he too was dressed in great plates of armor, although his were blue-silver instead of red-black. His weapon was a gigantic spear, its tip frozen with jagged, blood-stained ice. As his weapon showed, he too was skilled in elemental artes, especially ice, and could summon gigantic pikes of ice from the ground to skewer his enemies when a spear thrust couldn't suffice.

Together, they were the Devil Three; the three Crimson Balrogs that Gault had deemed most worthy of his service, transformed them using an arcane necromantic arte, thus lending them their elemental abilities, and were now his most trusted servants. In a sense, they were his generals, and although they wielded supreme power over the Tauros and fellow Balrogs that they ruled, they were wise enough not to trifle with Gault. Indeed, they all feared him as much as every other demon in the Sanctuary did.

"You were out hunting, I take it?" Gault said conversationally. Melchior crunched his jaws, the sound of bone cracking as he spit out a rather bloody plate of armor. Gault raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that means yes."

"_Hunting was nice today, my lord." _Melchior gave a satisfied cross between a growl and a burp. "_I must say, the warriors that roam Victoria these days taste quite nice…"_

"Yes, well, we're not here to talk about your eating habits, Melchior." Gault said crossly. The Balrog instantly fell back, eager to not invoke the wrath of the dark bowman. "In any case, you three may be wondering why I sent for you. Athena has decided to form a renegade resistance of sorts that she has dubbed Elaesia. A rather fitting name, I suppose…but like the original continent that bore that name, it shall be rent apart soon."

The Balrogs shared a laugh at this jest, as Gault went on. "Although I do not primarily fear the Elaesians, I am slightly worried about the kind of people that they have…Athena herself, Rathias Gardner, Keiga and Aslan Seles, Ryden, the son of Dracon…and yes, even Zeraion Phoenix." Gault sniffed slightly in arrogance. "Perhaps even the Devil Children as well, although I doubt they will be much of a threat." His gaze narrowed. "In any case, it would be wise to keep tabs on them. Just in case." He gaze a small smile, and the Balrogs grinned as well, sensing that bloodlust was near.

"So, I trust you three will be able to handle that situation." Gault said, standing up and turning away from them, walking off into the depths of the Sanctuary, Grace following behind.

"_This ought to be interesting." _Nebuchadnezzar growled as the Devil Three exited.

"_Yes, indeed." _Balthazar threw back his head and laughed, a vile sound that echoed through the caverns of the Sanctuary.

-----

"Sinclaire, Ryden, and Seles. It's good to see you back again."

Those were the words Athena Pierce spoke early morning when the two units sent to Ossyria wearily returned with their subject in tow. Marron winced slightly when Athena said the word "Seles", but declined to say anything.

"I suppose promotions are in order, then?" Sinclaire said, a little too quickly.

Athena glanced at the ranger, but nodded. "Yes, Luke. Indeed." She took a few pieces of paper out of her desk and began to write upon them. "Ryden, for your efforts in returning Aslan to Elaesia, you will receive a double promotion to High Captain. Sinclaire, for assisting him, you will be promoted to Colonel." She handed two slips of paper to said subjects, who took them wordlessly.

"Thank you, Athena." both of them said. Athena then turned to face Marron. "Aslan, I suppose either Ryden or Sinclaire may have told you already. Ever since your display of power in the first battle of this war, the troops have been longing for your presence. In Beta Division alone we have nearly a thousand units wanting you to lead them."

"Well, I'm flattered." Marron said profusely, casting a look at Ryden from the side, who winked in return.

"Given the circumstances, and the fact that Keiga has spoken very highly of you," Athena went on, now writing upon a third piece of parchment, "I think it would be best if you entered the ranks as a Major General, second in power only to the other three wisemen. Would that be agreeable?"

Marron blinked, slightly pink in the face, before acquiescing. Ryden heartily clapped him on the back. "Well done, Dariel! You didn't even have to do anything and you became a Major General!"

"Shut up." Marron muttered, still red in the face, as the pair exited. Sinclaire cast a sideways glance at them as they left; Athena looked up at Sinclaire.

"Colonel…" she murmured. "Is something troubling you?"

"N…not at all, Athena." Sinclaire folded his hands and sighed. "Actually, there is something I have been wondering. Would you be kind enough to clear it up for me?"

Athena paused. "Go on."

"Did your sister ever have any children?"

Athena seemed rather surprised by the question, but answered, "Yes, she did. She gave birth to a set of twins, one boy, one girl. She was rather fond of them."

"The girl looks familiar." Sinclaire mused.

He had meant it only as an innocuous comment, but it seemed to touch a nerve in Athena. He noticed the color change in his superior's face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Do you want to know what happened to Rene's children?" she asked, rather bluntly.

Sinclaire blinked, nonplussed, but answered, "Yes."

Athena sighed. "Rene once fell in love with a man who was a warrior. The two became very close, although they never formally married. However, one day, the warrior went off on a journey to seal a fragment of the demon Razier."

"A…fragment?"

"When Razier was sealed by the Divine Children long ago, several fragments were produced." Athena sighed. "Those fragments, though not nearly as destructive as the body, were becoming much of a nuisance for those living in Ossyria. He joined a party to defeat one of the fragments, and that was all Rene saw of him. Until one day, he came back."

"Came…back?"

Athena sighed. "I'm sorry, Sinclaire. This is rather personal…well, I suppose you have a right to know. It seems that the fragment of demon had possessed him, in a sense. He became mad and…forced himself onto Rene. She killed him, but it was too late. She discovered that she was pregnant with his children."

"And?"

"She couldn't bring herself to have an abortion, so she gave birth to the children. They were twins, one girl, one boy. Knowing of the consequences that would come if anyone realized her children were half-demon, she hid them away from the world."

Her face showed nothing, but there was suddenly pain in her voice.

"However, someone found out. She didn't know how or who, but the fact remains that someone eventually realized the children's true heritage. That night, an angry mob stormed the house and attempted to take away the children. Rene tried to drive away the mob, but it was too late. Her son was dead."

Sinclaire was quiet. "And…what about the daughter?"

"The daughter fared better." Athena said shortly. "She sent the girl to me, and I placed her in the care of a foster home. That's all you need to know."

"I…" Sinclaire decided not to pursue the issue further and began to leave. However, just as he crossed the threshold, a burning curiosity came over him.

"What was the girl's name?" he dared to ask.

Athena barely glanced up at him as she wrote something at her desk. "Natalia Arundale."

-----


	14. Irrelevant Intercepts 2: Filler Chapter

**Chapter 13.5: Intermission**

_(Also Known As Something I Wrote To Help Pass The Time Because I Am Really Bored And Have Writer's Block And Also Because I Feel Like Writing A Couple Of Sarcastic Review Replies And I Got Five Thousand Hits, or S.I.W.T.H.P.T.T.B.I.A.R.B.A.H.W.B.A.A.B.I.F.L.W.A.C.O.S.R.R.A.I.G.F.T.H for short. Or you could just call it Intermission. Whatever floats your boat.)_

_-Kal Ancalas  
_

* * *

_Warning: This is not a real chapter of Revolt, blah blah blah. Just read it if you're feeling snappy. By the way, don't forget the kittens..._

* * *

Here we go again. 

A wise person once made the quote, "Boredom is the mother of invention."

I would like to modify that. Boredom, as much as we may like to believe, is not the mother of invention. Rather, crazy-yet-brilliant people's minds are the mother of invention. Boredom would be better described as the reclusive stranger that decided to drop by the sperm donation bank one fine day.

With that rather interesting analogy in mind, let's cut the chatter and skip straight to the heart of the matter. Besides the number of reviews increasing by about 50 percent since the last cutscene chapter (thank you all very much), I also have a horrible case of writer's block. That, and I haven't been doing too well in the morale department lately, so consider this less of a public service announcement than a long rant that I wrote because I was bored and decided to post for its comic value.

Before I reply to the usual load of "OMG UR STORY WUZ KEWL" and "GO DIE U FAG" reviews, I would like to add a notice that I posted the first chapter of this story on Sleepywood . Net's fan fiction forum. This is to allay any suspicions of plagiarism.

Thankfully, there haven't been as many stupid comments as last time, so we won't have to go through that. Er…Let's start with a small anecdote, shall we?

**Behind the Tourniquet (Or Why Iggy Is Such A Crazy Dolt)**

You may have been wondering how the idea for Tourniquet, the short story based off of Revolt of the Archers, arose.

Well, believe it or not, it was based on a real-life incident.

You see, one fine day, I was doing what I usually do on beautiful, warm, sunny spring days; forcibly practicing some song by some dead, white, European guy that lived a couple of centuries ago. After about half an hour of this, I became rather dehydrated and decided to get a drink of water (my mom was in the shower and I thus had no fear of being discovered.)

I never saw it coming.

It was a quick movement- almost too quick to be seen- but it happened. I would never know how it happened; a chance-

"SHUT THE (expletive) UP!!"

Okay, okay. Long story short, our kitchen has a hardwood floor. As you may expect, floor maintenance in our house is not a big priority, so it should come as no surprise to you that I got a gigantic splinter jammed right into my heel.

Thus followed a long string of "French" that would make your ears bleed if I were to recant it to you, so I shall not. And then my mom came running out of the shower to see what was all the fuss, which put me in a state of catatonic shock.

Somehow or other, using a pair of tweezers, a knitting needle, a little rubbing alcohol, and a lot of incoherent screaming, I managed to get Pinocchio's nose out of my foot. As I continued to play a slightly mangled rendition of Invention No. 8 (You would think that any sensible mother would let her son rest after getting impaled in the foot by a gigantic wooden hell pike, but _no_…) I thought, "What if something like this happened to Iggy?"

And thus, Tourniquet was born. Originally, I had planned to just leave it at the paper cut, but writing a 500-word stub almost as long as its foreword would be stupid, so I added the sappy introspection part at the end.

Some of you may be wondering, "But I thought Iggy was the cool emo guy! How come he freaked out over a paper cut like that?"

Well, if you were playing outside with your family on a beautiful winter day and then all of a sudden your drunk dad came out and started beating the hell out of your mom and sisters and then tried to kill you but your mom threw herself in the way and told you you shouldn't have existed as she died, I think you'd get a little hemophobic too.

So…Any questions?

**Reviews Corner: You Write 'em, I'll Blast 'em**

Hello, and welcome to Reviews Corner. I'm your host, Kal Ancalas, and today, we'll be going over a few examples of how the brilliant, kind, and caring people of FF. Net show their appreciation for our hard-written stories.

Don't be offended if your review is not included here; I only have so much time to work with, people.

-----

"_:D  
I LOVE THIS STORY!  
I especially like Iggy's background, it makes so many things much clearer! I also think you have a very good blend of action and dialogue in the story, not too much of either at a time, and that makes it very interesting to read. Heck, when I start reading a chapter, I can't stop until I have read the whole story again XD  
Keep up the good work:P"_

Wow. When I reread Iggy's background, all that happened was that I got disturbed. Thankfully, it seems that you took a slightly better view of things.

Personally, I stink at doing battle scenes (my battles read more like a turn-based RPG than a live-action swordsfight, if you know what I mean.)

But I appreciated the compliment. Thanks. -Kal

-----

"_xDD I feel sorry for you maybe next time you won't write it in text xP_

_Okay, the plot's coming together now, and I still can't get over how long and detailed your chapters are (HOURS OF READING TIME)_

_Have fun with the next chapter! I'll be waiting xDD"_

For the record, I only uploaded it in text because FF's upload system decided to have technical difficulties when I attempted to upload in a complex format such as HTML (no, I don't have Word.) This caused every single period to disappear from the chapter, forcing me to go back and insert every one back in. Also, some paragraphs were clumped together. (And it was about 11:00 at night.)

To be told that someone is willing to waste hours of their life just to read your story is very satisfying, folks. Very satisfying indeed.

-Kal

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"_WOW!_

_To hell with grumbles and shit like that!_

_That was amazing! (though i am pissed with the cliffhanger)_

_Gault brang Grace to life? I love the plot twist!_

_Keep going. Don't stop!_

_you'll hear no bad things from me!"_

Yes, and thank you as well for abdicating the hellish chatspeak.

I don't think "brang" is a word, but hey, who am I to complain?

I know you all hate the cliffhangers, but how else am I supposed to get you to review? (Short of drawing a huge, pissy comic, that is.)

-Kal

-----

"_Hey hey!_

_Another great chapter. I was just a bit confused, maybe 'cause I haven't read the other chapters in a while, so I'm not really sure of which characters are who. Maybe I should reread them when i have a few hours... ;_

_What else? Oh, I noticed something. When you referred to Athena once, you said Bow mistress. Just something I noticed, and it sounds a bit... unusual, but I don't terribly mind if you say master or mistress. Both are good._

_I guess that's pretty much all._

_-Kyas."_

Windra, I sincerely hope you're reading this right now.

-Kal

-----

"_What happened to all the bandits?  
They all die from a disease or something?"_

Yes, in fact, they did. It's a little-known ailment called "Writersblockitis."

-Kal

-----

"_wow. just wow. very nice plot twist i want the next chapter please NOW!  
overall a nice chapter_

_i want another one"_

It should probably be known that this is the same gentleman who wrote "now go write more chapters lamo!" in BtR.

-Kal

-----

"_Thanks for ruining Zelos' Flanior scene for me, you bastard."_

Now, this one is funny. (If you don't know what the hell Zelos or a Flanoir scene is, I would recommend that you play Tales of Symphonia.) If truth be told, I did have that red-haired perv in mind when I wrote this scene, but I tweaked it a little to make it more dramatic, as should be evident if you actually know how the scene goes.

What I want to know is, how would you know that Iggy's past had any semblance to Zelos' Flanoir scene if you didn't know what the scene was in the first place? (I don't recall putting any "OMG THIS IS ZELOS' FLANOIR SCENE SPOILER ALERT" lines in that chapter.)

But if you HAD known what the scene was, then I couldn't have 'ruined' it for you, since you already knew what it was in the first place. So basically, you're blaming me for ruining something that you (presumably) didn't even know existed until now, which kind of makes the whole thing stupid in retrospect.

Besides, not that I'm complaining, but Zelos is such an arrogant jerk (past notwithstanding) that it's almost impossible to get the Flanoir scene with him anyway, so I wouldn't really bother.

-Kal

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"_This is a test review to see if there's a problem with the FF servers._

_If you can read this, then GET OFF YOUR FREELOADIN' ASS AND START SENDING ME SOME REVIEWS:O_

_-Kal"_

Hi, Kal. Haven't heard from you in quite a while, huh? So, how are things going these days?

As is evident from the wording, this was written out of frustration after Chapter 13 was put up for 3 days and only got 1 review.

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"_No!  
Your fic inspires everyone to become an archer.  
Prices of archer stuff will go up..a lot.  
Inflation of bows is like twofold"_

Believe me, I would be very flattered indeed if I knew that my story was solely responsible for a financial bubble in the economy of an MMORPG.

-Kal

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"_I found myself staring at this review page wanting to review but having too many things to comment about TT_

_Like… erm, the Grace and Gault thing. claps Very dramatic, and a very nice twist. However, maybe a little more description on what Phoenix was feeling?_

_"It was like getting stabbed in the chest, the iron blade slicing through the meaty organ called my heart. It was if an arrow had been fired, tearing through my body and leaving me a mocking husk of a human; dead, numb and unfeeling. Tears cascaded down my face leaving trails of salt on my skin. My mind simply shut down refusing to react, refusing to work, refusing… everything. My soul seemed to rage and turn on itself tearing itself to pieces as I stared, refusing to comprehend what was happening right it front of me."_

_Woah, where did that come from… Anyways, something like that. xD  
Also, the fight between Aslan/Dariel and Ryden. Wow… I want your imagination and your repertoire of vocabulary _

_And Natalia, half-demon? OO Never occurred to me before, even if she was called one of the Devil Children. I stared at her name in shock for a few minutes whilst twitching TT;  
I'm guessing there's going to be some plot twist where Natalia is involved and the fact she's half-demon. But that's just guesswork… Or maybe not…? I mean you wouldn't put something in a story that had no point right? xD_

_Balthazar? Nebuchadnezzar? Do you happen to play Warcraft or something related, as the Devil Threes' names sound very familiar to me.  
-Saiyuki Tasuke_

_Btw, I didn't notice a rushed ending. That my friend, means that you have the ability to write in the dead of night while your dad is screaming your ass off at you. And I don't have a dog that you could possibly eat. I have a stuffed plushie Sasuke though  
Sasuke from Naruto that is. Woah, long review. See I told you I had a lot to comment on…"_

Now, see, if EVERYONE wrote reviews like this, then we wouldn't have diseases like Writersblockitis going around these days.

That example paragraph of Phoenix's emotions is a true gem; something (once more) I would be only too glad to splice into that chapter, if it weren't for those annoying plagiarism laws. If only you could apply half those writing skills to your fic, Saiyuki, then you would never lack for reviews.

By the way, I don't play Warcraft (gets trampled by rabid mob). Oddly, Balthazar, Nebuchadnezzar, and Melchior, among other things, are names that the French give to large bottles of wine. I was reading an article about that one day and…yep.

The fact that Arundale is half-demon does play an important role in the plot, but exactly why won't be revealed until the last chapter. Dammit…I REALLY want to write the last chapter now! I have such a great ending planned out, too! (Seethes) And no, she doesn't become evil all of a sudden. That would be way too cliché, even for me.

-Kal

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"_No problem, Phoenix." She smiled at me and turned away._

_I blinked, wondering whether what I'd just seen was a hallucination. Sure enough, when I shook my head, the image of her smile was still freshly imprinted in my mind. I wondered how I had never noticed it before, but…_

_She had fangs._

_"What was the girl's name?" he dared to ask._

_Athena barely glanced up at him as she wrote something at her desk. "Natalia Arundale."_

_That is so smart. This story is really going deep, and its reaching the climax (But I don't want it to end T.T)_

_The fight scene was just...wow...amazing..._

_Don't worry, your writing is almost immaculate, you have talent and you should publish a BOOK! So we can buy it and you can get rich!"_

I am flattered that all of you enjoyed the duel in the middle of the story, because I spent six hours (not exaggerating) agonizing over it. This was one of those instances where you write a sentence, then delete it because it just doesn't feel right, and repeat about a gajillion times.

And yes, the part about the fangs climaxing with the ultimate revelation of her identity was a literary device on my part. I was afraid some of you were going to go "OMG SO CLICHÉ" but thankfully, that didn't happen.

-Kal

-----

"_wow, nice!  
Interesting plot twist, though it does make sense. Iggy and Arundale both are half demon/have a demon, so they live up to their name Devil Children. However, I wonder what Arklanser has? Oo since Tales, while not being possessed himself, had a lycanthrope sister. Ah well, I love this story, keep up the good work:D"_

What Delly has will be discussed in the next chapter. However, I did put a certain line in Tourniquet that gives a clue to her past:

"_Arklanser, he knew, had had her own troubles with the crystal some years past, and she definitely hadn't gone out of her way to help him…"_

What exactly "the crystal" is will be left for you to speculate upon until the next chapter is released. If you can hazard a guess at what it is, go ahead…maybe you might get it right.

-Kal

-----

"_YAY! psychological warfare Gault! psychological warfare... wow. sugar is better than caffeine, because its c6h12o6! blame my science teacher."_

Overused Story Cliché Number 385: Have the main antagonist brainwash the hot girl.

And yes, sugar is better than caffeine, but you know what's the best? Isopropanol, because it's (CH3)2CHOH, and it has a good smell! But if you drink it, you'll die! And that's bad!

(You can blame my science teacher for this, too.)

-Kal

-----

"_You write such good stories 3  
And most importantly..._

_YOU ACTUALLY MADE ME PLAY MY LVL 28 NOOB ARCHER ON BOOTES MORE! OO I thought nothing could do that..._

_Btw, come join MapleSEA sometime! D"_

I'm flattered. However, I don't wish to burst your bubble, but no matter how hard you pray, Nexon will likely not be releasing Inferno Strafe or Dark Reprisal in a patch any time soon.

And I don't have the time, much less the motivation, to start a MSEA account.

The only conceivable way anyone could ever get me to play Maple again is if someone was insane enough to:

-Play on Global Bera

-Give me at least a 95+ ATT Dark Arund (or 98+ any other color), at least 5 ATT WG (or any other glove), at least a +16 DEX Dark Pris, a Dark Falcon, at least +5 DEX Black Seraph Cape+5 DEX +5 Speed Dark Wing Boots, and a set of Metal Heart Earrings.

Looks like I'll have to content myself with playing Solitaire these days.

(Note: If anyone is deluded enough to take me up on this offer, I will _worship _you. For life. The IGN is ZerPheonix74. PM me.)

-Kal

-----

"_nice story twist it was actually good  
i like your writing  
:P  
come out with the next one  
o.o"_

"Actually"? What the hell is that supposed to imply? (Loads rifle)

Just kidding. Thanks for the review.

-Kal

-----

"_AS THE NAME SAYS STUPID CLIFFHANGERS" Written by STUPIDCLIFFHANGERS_

I wouldn't be so quick to judge. Right now, we at Kal Ancalas Productions are conducting an intelligence test on said cliffhangers. Cliffhanger 1 seems to test well on mathematics, but seems to be lacking in verbal skills. Cliffhanger 2 is optimal in all areas. Cliffhanger 3 is being slated as a test subject for our newest mental serum. Results for Cliffhangers 4 through 10 should be coming in shortly. Stay tuned for details.

-Kal

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Thank you for tuning in to this week's installment of Review Corner! Who knows, maybe YOUR review could be featured on our show! You never know…

_(Note: We at Kal Ancalas Productions did not plagiarize the slogan of the New York Lottery. Thank you for your time.)_

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**After-Rant Comic**

This comic is based on one done by the legendary Rory Blyth of Neopoleon fame. Maybe you've heard of him; maybe not. In any case, it's been quite a while since he has posted this and I decided to do a comic based on his. If anyone is reading this, please understand that any imitation whatsoever is done with the intent to entertain and results in no financial gain on my part.

I apologize for the quality, as it was done on a budget of 40 minutes.

w w w . i 1 2 1 . P h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / o 2 4 0 / I D o o d l e O n N a p k i n s / c o m i c o f d o o m . j p g


	15. A Girl Who Lost Her Heart

**Chapter 13**

Author's Note: Yeah, er…I kind of feel bad about writing Tourniquet now because I sounded a little bitchy asking for reviews. And I'm sorry for not updating, but that's what a one-week vacation trip to Japan and writer's block does to you.

But that's over now. As for the actual story, I'll just leave it up because it'll probably add a little depth to their characters. Truth to say, it seems a little OOC to have Iggy freaking out from a paper cut, but what the hey. It's MEH story, and I can do whatever I want to it. (huggles)

I am suffering horribly from Last Chapter Syndrome, which is when an author wants so horribly to break all the spoilers and write the last chapter when everything is revealed, said, and done…But we still have a handful of chapters before that can happen. GAHH! (stabs self with rusty screwdriver)

Yeah, and about the review that "hahausuckatwritting" so kindly posted, thank you all for your concern, but to be honest, I wasn't pissed off so much as mildly amused- I found it rather funny that some anonymous douche could think that he/she could expect to traumatize me just by telling me that my writing sucks. I've been called worse before. Besides, the record number of reviews that I received lifted my mood anyway. (Speaking of which, this story now has 20 faves. Which means I should get 20 reviews for this chappie. At least. Okay, I'm being a little greedy here, but you get my point. I spent a lot of effort on his chapter- or story, rather, and I want to see it reciprocated, please.)

So…ahem. We already have three Devil Children's horribly tragic pasts down pat, but what about the fourth? That question shall be answered in this chapter! More action, dialogue, and other crap await in the newest chapter of Revolt of the Archers!

By the way, I'm sorry if this chapter is rather crappy- I might be being a bit harsh on myself, but most of this was written during my one-week trip to Japan and I was suffering horribly from jet lag, so most of what you're reading was written on three or four hours of sleep a night. My apologies in advance.

Um…oh yeah. REVIEW THE LONE CRUSADERZORZomfgwtfbbq!!!111

Oh yeah…one more thing.

Enjoy.

(You thought I was going to say 'review', didn't you?)

-Kal

-----

Sinclaire froze. "Excuse me?" he stammered.

Athena looked up to eye him with an expression of steel. "Luke, I believe I said the girl was Arundale. Does that require any further clarification?"

"I-well…" The ranger's mind was in turmoil. "She-she can't be…half-demon!"

"Oh?" Athena raised an eyebrow. "And why not, may I ask?"

"Because…" Sinclaire chewed on his tongue for a bit. "She's…nice, kind, caring…and she's cute." he added, as an afterthought. "If she was really half-demon, I would have expected her to be biting off people's heads by now…"

Athena was less than amused by the comment. "Colonel, I will have you know that Natalia is a perfectly healthy and sane girl, and I assure you she has not bitten off anyone's head recently."

"But…" Sinclaire nervously scratched the back of his neck. "How- I mean, what-" He had to take a few deep breaths before he regained his composure. "What effect did…the demon have on her?"

Athena sighed balefully. "As far as I was concerned, Natalia was a perfectly healthy half-elven girl when Rene first sent her to me. She had light orange-brown hair, beautiful eyes, and a charming smile; only perhaps that her incisors were a bit…sharper than normal." The bowmistress sighed wistfully. "She called me 'auntie'." she said, with a touch of reminiscent tenderness in her voice.

"Did…" Sinclaire swallowed past the huge lump in his throat. "Did you ever tell her that she was-"

"I didn't have to." Athena said, the tenderness in her voice replaced with a leaden tone. "She was about eight years old at the time when she returned home to me rather bruised. She told me that several of the neighborhood kids had called her a 'demon girl' and thrown rocks at her."

Sinclaire sucked in his breath as Athena continued. "And then she said that a black-haired boy had appeared out of nowhere and yelled at the bullies to go away. She said she liked him."

"A black-haired boy?" the colonel replied with some surprise.

"Traphes Igzarion." Athena responded. "That, I believe, was the beginning of their almost sibling-like relationship…a relationship that only grew stronger when she persuaded- or rather, longingly pleaded with me for an hour to adopt him." Her lips curled in a faint smile. "They were- and still are- very close indeed."

"After that incident, though…" Sinclaire raked a hand through his hair. "You had no choice but to tell her what really happened, didn't you?"

"Yes." Athena sighed, her smile fading away. "She told me all about that night in El Nath when the mob had attacked. I told her everything; about her mother, her father, and her true heritage."

"And…how did she take it?"

"To be honest, she was very mature about it." Athena said, folding her arms across the desk. "She listened silently and didn't even flinch or cry when I told her the story. After I had finished…" She sighed lightly and dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. "She asked me, 'Is that why Llewellyn was killed?'"

"Who was Llewellyn?"

"He was her twin brother." Athena said gently. "Apparently, he was stabbed in front of her eyes. You would have expected a child to be completely traumatized after seeing that, but she managed to put the incident behind her." She dabbed at her other eye with the handkerchief. "I suppose her maturity stemmed from the demon blood inside her veins."

"I see." Sinclaire muttered, uncomfortably scuffing the floor with his boot. "So that's what happened…"

"Yes." Athena murmured, folding her hands. "In addition, I believe that she later learned some arcane artes from later study that she was able to use through her complex bloodline."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, until Sinclaire cleared his throat. "Very well…er, thank you, Athena. I'll be leaving now…" He quickly excused himself and was about to leave when Athena stopped him. "Luke, wait."

"What?" he asked, spinning around to face her.

"Listen to me, Sinclaire." Her voice had acquired a rather sharp edge. "I tell you all this in confidence because I have known you ever since you were young, and I trust you will not divulge this information to anyone, least of all to Natalia herself. If word were to spread that Natalia Arundale was the daughter of Razier, the great demon, the effect it could have on Elaesia as a whole would be disastrous. Do you understand?"

Sinclaire could feel the bowmistress' glare cutting through him; he hastily nodded, "Yes, Athena."

"Good." Athena returned her gaze to her desk. "Now, if you could, Luke, I need a favor from you. Find Zeraion Phoenix and bring him to me."

-----

After considering Arundale's words, I finally decided to take a short walk around the Elaesian grounds. I realized- I didn't need anyone to tell me how or when my life was going to end.

_This is my life, _I thought, as I stepped outside, a cool gust of wind blowing into my face. _Gault's lying…he's just a huge, fat, stinking liar. Even if he thinks he's right, he's wrong. The Judgment…_

I paused slightly. I had no problem with denouncing Gault as a liar, but Athos' words seemed to strike a little deeper. _Athos?_

There was no answer. Gritting my teeth, I mentally shouted, _Athos!_

_Yes, Zeraion? _There was a touch of impatience in his voice.

I grimaced. "Sorry."

_Apology accepted. Now, what is it that you wish to discuss?_

_"_Do you believe in the Judgment?" I asked him gingerly.

_I believe in the Judgment no more than I believe in the destruction of Razier._

"What in the world is that supposed to mean?"

_The Judgment refers to the eventual destruction of Razier. If you believe in the demise of the great demon, then you would do well to heed the Judgment's words._

"So…" I weighed the meaning of his words. "You're saying that in order for Razier to be destroyed, the Judgment has to be true?"

_Indeed._

"So, what you're saying is…" I clenched my fist. "In order for Razier to be destroyed, I have to…die?!"

Athos chuckled lightly. _I said no such thing. I merely said that in order for the great demon to be destroyed, the events depicted in the Judgment should occur. It is still not definite whether the Judgment refers to your death or not._

"Well, then, who else could the 'divine children' refer to?" I snarled, rumpling my hair.

_I have a few theories of my own, but I would rather not divulge them for fear of my being incorrect. _The great spirit gave a sigh. _The art of divination has been lost since the demise of Lisandea. We elves and humans are ignorant, and we have been clawing at the mystery of her words for centuries past._

"When will we realize the true meaning of the prophecy?"

_When it happens, we will know._

"I…" I mulled over his words, my footsteps thudding against the frozen ground. "Is there a possibility that Gault's interpretation could be correct?"

_It is unlikely, but plausible. We cannot discount any possibility until the time when the Judgment is revealed._

I sighed and rumpled my hair. "Why is it that every time I talk to you, I always end up with more questions than answers?"

Athos merely chuckled amusedly in response.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see the face of Luke Sinclaire. "Yes, Captain?"

"That's Colonel to you," he said, with a slight smirk, before returning to a business-like tone. "I was sent by Athena to request your presence."

"What does she want?" I said in a slightly bitter tone. He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Don't look at me, Phoenix. I just deliver the messages around here." He motioned for me to follow him, and I did so. Before I could pay attention to where my feet were walking, I found myself once more standing in front of the dreaded door I couldn't bring myself to open.

Sinclaire did not notice my look of apprehension. "In."

I walked into the office; it seemed even gloomier than the last time I had entered it. The dim walls and electric lights lent a kind of dark air to Athena and her surroundings that made her seem so much more drab…dull, even. It was a harsh reminder and parallel of the world that I and the rest of the Victorians were trapped in.

The voice of Athena floated somewhere through my numb brain in the background as I heard Sinclaire leave, and then Athena and I were in the office alone.

"So, Zeraion." she murmured. I didn't need to look at her to know that she was writing something at her desk. I could tell by the sound of the quill scratching. "You may be wondering why I sent for you."

"Yes." I managed to mumble half-coherently. "I thought you said that you and Gardner didn't want me joining the armed forces."

"We didn't." Athena said shortly, the sound of paper being slid into a drawer floating into my ears. "And we still don't. But we have decided that it would be better if you entered a slightly more effective training regimen."

_This can't be good, _I moaned inwardly, eliciting a soft noise of amusement from Athos. I heard Athena's voice through the haze of numbness in my brain. "After a recent conversation, Rathias and I have decided that it would be better for you if you trained at Ossyria for the moment. In this way, you will be kept safe from Isentryx's clutches, and you will able to concentrate more on your training until the time should come when we need you."

"I…" My mind was in a blank daze. "Athena, going all the way to _Ossyria?_ I don't know if I can-"

"We have transport carriers," Athena said briskly, not pausing, "and should any Balrogs interrupt your journey, I highly doubt they will be any trouble to you and Rathias."  
_  
_"That's not the point, Athena." I said, regaining some of my senses. She seemed mildly surprised at my sudden display of assertiveness as I continued on. "I can't leave Victoria. My brothers…my friends are here. I don't know what I'll do without-"

"If you want, they can visit you on their off-days." Athena said gently.

"It's not the same." I muttered listlessly, falling backwards in my chair.

"I understand how you feel, Zeraion, but there are things more important than that at the moment." She gently touched her fingers to my cheek, causing me to spring awake in shock. "Weren't you almost begging me to enlist you in the Elaesian Armed Forces a few hours ago?"

"That was different." I managed to stammer, color traveling up every part of my face.

She sighed. "Zeraion, just listen to me for once. Rathias speaks of you very highly and he believes you are one of the most promising students he has taught. However…" Her gaze sharpened. "He has also said that you still have a long way to go before going head-to-head against Isentryx- so I would highly recommend that you take him up on his offer if you wish to defeat Gault."

"I…I understand." I muttered, even though my face clearly showed that I didn't. Athena merely ran a hand through her long tresses. "Zeraion, trust me. In the end, this will all be for the better." Her tone sounded gentle, almost…motherly.

I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes and I closed them. "Is that all, Athena?"

To my amazement, I felt her warm hands close over mine, and I opened my eyes to see her staring expectantly at me. "Zeraion, I…" For the first time ever, I heard her sound almost uncertain. "I don't want you to leave. None of us do, but it is what we have to do…in order to ensure our survival."

She looked directly into my eyes, her pupils piercing mine like never before. "Zeraion…you're our only hope against Gault. Always remember that."

I couldn't bring myself to say the words that hung on the tip of my tongue.

_Athena…have you been saying that the whole time, because you knew I was going to die anyway?_

I stared into her eyes, but I could see no trace of emotion in them, no clue as to what my fate would be.

Finally, she broke the gaze and turned away from me, returning her attention to another endless stack of papers piled upon her desk, taking up her quill.

"Athena…" I stood up to leave, gazing at her. "I've always wondered…Why do you always do so much paperwork? What has been going on around here that could possibly require you to fill out that many forms?"

She stared up at me with a look that made me regret asking the question. "Do you really want to know?" she asked, in a hollow voice.

"Y-yes." I said, the roof of my mouth dry.

"They're death certificates, Zeraion." she said, softly. "One for every person that we lost fighting in that first battle. Every single one…and I've had to sign them all myself." She took a deep breath. "Every day, I see that endless mountain of papers, and I realize that each one is a human life, gone forever." She closed her eyes, a single tear dripping from one.

"Every name I read, Zeraion, I don't know if I even knew that person; I may have just passed them in the street one day. There are some bowmen…I've known for their entire lives, ever since they first received their blessing from me. You can't imagine the pain…" she uttered, her quill slipping from her fingers and fluttering down to the desk.

"And I can't help feeling," she continued, as her fingers scrabbled for the quill blindly, "that I'm the one responsible for their deaths…that I sent them into the first battle and got them killed…Goddess knows what kind of lives those people left behind. And I can't help think that it's my fault that those people will never be able to return to their families, will never be able to have families of their own. Look at these hands, Zeraion. They're stained with the blood of countless people. Every time I sign a certificate, it's my hand that holds the sword that killed them, my voice that chants their death arte…It's a pain that no one can see, but it's there. And it will only continue to grow in the years to come."

"I…" I was silent for a time and was sorry I had asked.

She continued to stare down at the stack of papers in front of her and finally raised her glance to me. "In any case, Zeraion, Rathias is waiting for you."

-----

"This is really Henesys now…" Marron cast his eyes around the bleak landscape of what had once been the archer city. "It looks so…"

"Different?" Ryden offered.

"Well, not really…I guess." He shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. "It just looks so depressing. Like something could happen at any moment."

Ryden sighed. "Actually…that is what very well might happen."

"So…" He cleared his throat. "How have things been going in Victoria all this time?"

"Pretty well, actually." His companion shrugged and took a deep breath of the cool sunset air. "We've been training day in, day out…or perhaps, I should say, Zer and I have."

"Zer?" Marron had a blinking look of surprise on his face. "You mean he's alive?"

"What, you expected a little Dragon Roar to kill him?" Ryden shrugged. "Besides," he added, "I don't think Ark would be pleased with you if you killed his little brother." He took a deep breath. "He's really gotten a lot better. It seems he can use that new bow of his pretty well."

"I see." Marron was quiet for a moment as the two swordsmen walked, Ryden shooting an occasional glance at him every once in a while.

"So…Zer really isn't the enemy after all." he said, after a long pause.

Ryden paused to give Marron a look of amusement. "You know, it looks like those brain cells of yours have a hope after all."

Marron resisted the urge to reply and instead muttered, "So…we really are at war, then."

"Yeah." Ryden gazed at the ceiling, his next words stuck on his tongue. "Dariel Marron, the Paladin." He sighed. "It really does have a nice ring to it."

Marron did not reply, and Ryden went on. "It was stupid of me to have dueled you. You would have easily won-"

"No." Marron held a hand up to stop Ryden's words. "You fought very well."

"What are you talking about? I lost the duel."

Marron sighed. "Using Brimstone Tempest drained my mana, as you very well know." He exhaled and raked a hand across his forehead. "The duel would have been a draw."

"I…" Ryden was speechless; out of all people, he never would have thought Dariel Moron would be the first to admit something like this.

"You've really improved the last time we met." the Paladin murmured, keeping his face bowed low to the ground.

Ryden gazed amusedly at his comrade as they walked. _And you have as well, my friend…_

Suddenly, Ryden glanced upwards to see something that made his heart leap; Keiga Seles was walking towards them.

"Dariel!" He elbowed Marron in the ribs, causing him to look up. "Look! It's-"

Marron's face had instantly become as still as a statue, as did Seles' when he noticed Ryden's companion. However, neither father nor son paused in their pace, but instead continued to walk towards each other.

Ryden felt his heart flutter. _Dariel…Just do it. Acknowledge him as your father, and you won't have to live with that burden anymore._

The Paladin and Dark Knight stopped a few paces away from each other. Slowly, they gazed into each others' faces, the seconds floating by like hours.

Finally, Seles broke the awkward silence. "Dariel…" He offered his hand. "Good to see you're back."

Marron hesitated, then stretched his hand towards Seles as well. "Yes. Thank you." he murmured.

From a distance, Ryden stole a glance at Seles' face; he seemed as calm as ever, although there was something in his eyes that clearly showed he was troubled.

"I take it…you're a Paladin, then?" Seles gazed at his son, his ivory-colored armor contrasting against his father's blackened cuirass.

"Yes. That is correct." Marron replied, his hand drifting, almost casually, to the hilt of his sword.

"Dariel…" There was the faintest tinge of pain in the Dark Knight's voice. "I…was sorry to hear about your father."

Marron turned his gaze to Seles' feet. "That's all right. At least…he's watching over me now."

"Yes, he would have been proud." Seles said, in the same tone. Ryden continued to watch the scene closely. _Come on! Do it!_

"Is that all you have to say to me, then?" Marron said, in a slightly disdainful tone.

"I…" Seles' expression hardened for a moment. "Congratulations on becoming a Major General."

"Thank you."

The silence was almost tangible as Seles and Marron continued to stare at each other wordlessly, their eyes not giving anything up. Ryden silently watched as he wondered who would be the first to break.

Finally, Marron turned on his heel and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing across the hall as he walked. Ryden's heart fell. _Dariel! You…you coward! _Seles made no move to stop him as his eyes slowly followed the Paladin.

Then, softly, Seles whispered, "Aslan."

Marron did not look back, although he stopped walking away from Seles.

"Aslan, listen to me." Seles was speaking with a touch of remorse in his voice, something Ryden had never heard before. "Please. I know what you must think of me after all these years, and I'm sorry. I truly am. I'm sorry that I put my own welfare above yours and it was a mistake I never should have made."

Marron continued to remain standing, wordlessly, as Seles went on. "Believe me, as much as I want to, I can't bring back those thirteen years during which I left you. I gave you to Kain only because I felt he could be a much better parent to you than I, the Dark Knight, could ever be…"

Marron shifted uncomfortably, his face still bowed towards the ground.

"It may be a little too late for apologies right now, but it's the only thing I can do at the moment." Seles bent his face towards the ground as well. "Please, Aslan. Forgive me for everything I've done. I know I don't deserve to call you my son, but I know that at least you deserve to call me your father."

Ryden glanced from father to son, the latter not betraying any emotion as he continued to stare at the floor.

Then, he spoke, in a low, dark tone Ryden had never heard him use before.

"Don't apologize, Seles." he said, his voice aimed more at the ground than at his father. "Even if you want to apologize…I can't forgive you right now."

Seles's face did not betray any emotion as he spoke.

Only the most minute of observers could have noticed that the Dark Knight had stopped breathing for a precious second.

-----

_Natalia…half-demon._

As usual, Luke Sinclaire had thoughts of a girl in his mind, but this time it wasn't with the usual single-minded purpose that he usually occupied himself with.

_The Devil Children…_

He had heard about them, of course. Everyone had; what with the murder of the prominent rangeress, Renea Igzarion, her husband, and her two daughters some twelve years ago. The papers hadn't said who exactly had done it, but everyone knew it had to have something to do with their only son, Traphes.

With a jolt, he reminded himself, _Traphes Igzarion…Oh, goddess…Natalia, half-demon, with a stepbrother who's a serial killer? And I have to share a roof with that guy? Charming. _He slid his hands into his pockets, muttering to himself as he walked on.

_Wonder just what Delly and that sniper are doing hanging out with those two. _His heart fluttered as he thought of Delly- or rather, Delinia Arklanser. So she was probably a year or two older than he was, but what difference did that make?

_They're the Devil Children, _he reminded himself. Yes, the Devil Children of Henesys, shunned and forsaken all their lives. What exactly they'd done to deserve their unofficial title, he didn't know, but everyone knew that they were all orphans, and all of them seemed to have a dark air about them as though they were deeply regretting something- as though they never should have been born.

_Yet Athena still decided to keep them, _he mused to himself. Natalia was understandable- she was her sister's daughter, but the other three? What exactly did she see in them?

He rounded the corner only to see Rysdale Tales, Traphes Igzarion, and Delinia Arklanser talking stone-facedly, and something told him he'd be better off not knowing.

Despite the massive fluttering in his heart, he managed to walk up to them, and trying to avoid the other two's gazes, stared directly at the crimson-haired rangeress.

"D-" He coughed and managed to regain a little of his composure. "Delinia Arklanser?"

She did not blink as she gazed at him. "Yes? What does Athena want this time?"

"This has nothing to do with Athena." He threw a simmering glance at the other two before continuing. "I was just wondering…" He trailed off, wondering how to phrase his next words.

He heard both Tales and Igzarion snicker, and feeling a sickening hot sensation in the pit of his stomach, forced himself to close his eyes. "Are you free tonight?"

She blinked, slightly surprised, and did not answer, obviously unsure of herself. He heard Igzarion say in a slightly disdainful voice, "Sorry. We- that is to say, us three and Natalia- have to practice fieldwork tonight." Both he and Tales walked off, snickering to each other.

Sinclaire shot a furious look at the two bowmen as they left before turning back to Arklanser, her face as stoic and impassive as it had been a second ago. "My apologies, Sinclaire." she murmured quietly. "As Traphes said, I do have to practice a few combat maneuvers later. Thank you for asking, however…" Her gaze flittered to his hand, and he glanced down.

As he looked, he could see that her eyes were fixated on his right hand, whose ring finger was adorned with a large ring, set with a black gemstone. He knew the piece of jewelry- it had been a gift from Rene at his third-class advancement and was made of a vein of dark crystal in the mines of El Nath. He enjoyed the rather powerful rush of energy that it brought him every time he fired a volley of arrows.

However, as he looked up, her stare was undeniably one of shock, anger, hatred…even, as he stared into her eyes…fear?

"Is something wrong?" he asked quietly.

Her expression flickered to life, returning to normal. "My apologies yet again." she murmured, faint smears of pink tracing her cheeks. "I…was just examining your ring."

"Yes…it is a nice piece of jewelry, isn't it?" He held the stone up so it glittered in the light, and as he strained his eyes, he could see that she, too, was wearing several pieces of jewelry; a necklace, a pair of earrings, a wristband, and a ring, all set with the exact same dark crystal that he was wearing.

"You seem to be rather fixated with it." he said in a casual tone.

It was exactly the wrong thing to say; at those words, she flared up with silent fury and smacked his hand as hard as she could with pure brute force, causing the ring to fly off his throbbing hand and ricochet off the wall twice before coming to a rest on the ground.

His hand feeling as though it was on fire, Sinclaire bent down to pick up the ring and was about to utter an apology, but she was no longer there.

-----

The sun was shining brightly as Zeraion Phoenix walked across the fields of Elaesia, the last remnants of snow and winter melting into the past as a calm zephyr glided softly among the grass.

Then again, there wasn't really much grass these days. Every day, Athena was ordering the construction of something or other- even their childhood home, Ascion had told him, rather sullen-faced, had been converted in an armory. The news left a bitter streak in his mouth, but he knew it was necessary- anything to stop Gault.

_I, of all people, should know that by now…_

He sighed and ran a hand frustratedly through his hair. It was a miracle he wasn't bald by now- he had probably done that enough times by now to pull out every strand of his hair. At times, there were times when he did feel like doing that.

"Excuse me." He walked up to a bandit, with clear-cut hair and a straight expression, apparently supervising the construction of some building. "Where are the transport carriers? I need to see Rathias Gardner there."

The bandit barely glanced at him as he jabbed a thumb to the left. "A thousand meters over to the west, give or take a few."

"Thanks." He threw his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked in the indicated direction. These days, everyone was little more than a walking automaton.

Perhaps being away from Victoria wasn't such a bad thing after all.

He stepped onto the airfield, his footsteps echoing across the layered cement and asphalt, and lifted his head to see the figure of an amber-haired bowman, his ponytail drifting in the wind, a Shinebow in his quiver.

"Hello, Gardner." Zeraion said, as politely as he could.

Gardner inclined his head. "Well met, Phoenix. I trust Athena told you about our excursion of sorts?"

"Yes, she did." Zeraion bowed. "When are we leaving?"

Gardner cast a glance at the sky. "In precisely…fifteen seconds."

"What?!" The ranger blinked, rather thunderstruck. "Now?! I haven't even had the time to say goodbye-"

Gardner merely fixed his student with a sedated expression. "Believe me, Zeraion. Farewell is the last thing you want to say at this point in time. Not when the greatest threat of all lies just over the horizon."

His cobalt-blue eyes flickered upwards once more before he resolutely clapped his hands. "Let's go. The air currents are most favorable at this time of day." He slid open the door of the great ship and beckoned his student inside.

Zeraion watched as Gardner fiddled with what looked like the ship's controls. After some time, he heard a great roar and felt the ship's engines shudder to life under his feet.

"That should do." he said, casting a glance at the control panel before turning to face his student. "It's set to autopilot. I think it would be best to abandon this stuffy hold and retire outside for some fresh air."

As though he read Zeraion's mind, he added, "There is something I would like to discuss with you."

Zeraion nodded and followed the bowmaster outside, the wind whipping his face. He watched silently as Gardner stared out into the sky, a clear and calm expression on his face. Zeraion's insides churned as he looked at the visage of calm. _What plans does he have for me? How…can he be so calm at a time like this?_

Time flew past as the sun continued to beat down on the two bowmen, one staring serenely at the clouds and the other caring less. Was this how Gardner was going to begin their training- staring at the landscape all day? Impatience gnawed at his thoughts as he watched the bowmaster's hair flutter in the wind.

However, each time he tried to open his mouth to say something, he closed it, finding nothing to say. Eventually, his buzzing impatience lapsed into a sense of calm as the wind lapped at his cheeks. He enjoyed the momentary calm and peace- probably the first time he'd ever done so in a while- as he followed Gardner's lead and stared into the clouds as well.

At last, he heard the elder bowman's voice from what seemed like miles away. "You understand the importance of patience well. That is excellent."

Zeraion casually stared across the sky. "You can't win a battle by randomly firing a storm of arrows in a frenzied state."

Gardner raised an eyebrow amusedly. "Yes, but you also can't win a battle reading your ranger's text all day long and soaking up outdated elven proverbs." He gave a brief smile and turned his expression to the clouds, his face rather serious. "I trust, however, that you will not shrug off the duty of a little hard work. You are not going to become a bowmaster overnight."

The comment seemed to shake Zeraion out of his reverie. "Bowmaster? You mean I'll be-"

Gardner chuckled lightly. "I wouldn't go that far, Phoenix. However, it is not far to say that a great conflict with Gault is to be expected. And, should that happen, it would be in Elaesia's best interest to have you as prepared as possible- which means, I may have to be quite harsh in my training, for I must condense years of knowledge, experience, and pain into a short span of weeks."

The word 'harsh' caused Zeraion to sigh rather balefully. "Well, it can't be much worse than when I trained with Athena on Final Attack a couple years back. She made me do forty laps around a full-blown archery strip once…"

Gardner closed his eyes and smiled. "Ah, Phoenix, you never cease to amuse me." He brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. "On the contrary, your training with me will be quite different from back then." He gazed at the sky once more.

"Athena had you working with a second release; using children's techniques such as Arrow Blow. I, on the other hand, shall teach you the true intricacies of Final Attack; controlling the mana channels, manipulating them so you do not overtax yourself, and learning how to harness a third release. Perhaps…if we are fortunate enough, I shall even teach you to use the energy of a fusion arte. I assure you, Zeraion, when this is over, you will no longer be the bowman you once were."

"I…see." Half of Zeraion was bubbling with excitement at his upcoming powers and his other half was squirming in fear about what was going to happen to him in the weeks to come.

The two bowmen steadily gazed away from each other and stared back into the sky.

"Oh, and by the way," Gardner suddenly added, his cobalt-blue eyes cutting into Phoenix, "I regret to inform you that with me, you will be running…let's see, one hundred laps a day."

-----

There's something about the early spring air that makes you feel as though you haven't got a care in the world.

Nature's tranquilizer, indeed.

Although he had the work of a hundred mages and wizards riding on his shoulders, Ascion Blade still couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration as he cut through the air, bolts of manaic energy splintering through the air as his wand rippled with holy force.

"Magic Claw!"

He beheaded the nearest dummy with a swipe of his Phoenix Wand, twirled gracefully on the soles of his feet, and raised his hands in the air, an arc of white light materializing in his palms. Starlight flashed between his nimble fingers as he raised his arms.

"Holy Arrow!"

The shaft of clarion light rippled through the air, driving itself through several more training wards that had been erected around the field for the battle practice of the officers. The remnants of his spells still leaving him exhilarated, he raised his hand to the sky once more, calling upon the photons in the air. "Shining Ray!"

A burst of light erupted from the clear sky and splintered into several rays as it flew downwards, spearing the entire field of targets, not leaving a single one unscathed. Ascion smiled as he watched the destruction; a nearby ranger waved his hand, causing another row of battle-ready puppets to appear.

The priest exhaled softly, appreciating the soft climate more than he ever had before in his life. Behind him, he heard the noise of steel being drawn as Ark threateningly hefted his axe over his shoulder, ready to bring death to the straw-filled adversaries that faced him.

"Combo Attack!" Glittering orbs of turquoise light flickered about the crusader as he raised his axe to the air. He twirled the gigantic weapon in the air once in a death arc before bringing it towards the ground. "Slag Assault!"

The ground was rent apart as bursts of gigantic stones ripped forth from the earth, spearing through the wards like paper. Ark watched the carnage with grim satisfaction, although he knew the attack paled in comparison to Brimstone Tempest.

Behind him, his brother nodded. "Nice trick."

"Spare me. It was a screwup and you know it. I was only able to use the mana at sixty percent efficiency."

Ascion raised an eyebrow. "You're beating yourself up too badly. It was sixty-five."

"You're not helping my mood." Ark scowled, lowering the blade of the great axe. "Seles says I need to work a lot harder if I want to become the tertiary heir."

"What is he making you do these days, a hundred laps?"

"Two hundred." Ark fixed his sibling with a steely glare. "And a hundred push-ups, sit-ups, and just about every other exercise you can think of. But…" His gaze flickered over the horizon. "It's worth it, if it means becoming the future leader of the warriors."

"Unless Marron and Ryden drop dead all of a sudden, I don't think you should be doing those push-ups just yet." Ascion smirked.

A vein bulged in the warrior's forehead. "Shut up, Ass Blade. Just because Grendel made a little prick like you the leader of the magicians doesn't mean you have to lord it over everyone else."

"Well, I'm sorry to break the news to you, but this little prick is a couple ranks higher than you are," Ascion smiled, folding his arms across his chest, "and I believe that's Brigadier General Blade to you."

"Why, you-!"

Ascion was spared further confrontation by the appearance of a dark-clad spearman, who turned to Ark. "We have a couple of new recruits waiting at the gate, Lieutenant Colonel." He drew a scroll from his armor and handed it to Ark.

"So we have." Ark murmured, his eyes flitting across the scroll. He stowed the missive back in his pocket. "Why does this require my presence all of a sudden?"

"They seem a bit…dodgy, if you know what I mean." The spearman shrugged noncommittally. "And Brigadier General, Athena suggested that you go with him. Just in case."

Ark scowled briefly, but nodded. "Yes, we'll be there."

What exactly was waiting for them at the gate was answered when they walked up to the great front doors of Elaesian headquarters. Apparently, three tall figures clad in black at the front of the gates were harassing the security guards at the front.

"Look, you can't come in here with proper identification!" one guard grunted, his sword at his side.

"No, _you _look. I've been waiting all day to join the goddamned EAF and I'll blow this whole place up if you don't let me in right now. Where the hell is-"

"Enough!" Ascion barked, his voice unnaturally loud in the calm atmosphere. The guards immediately fell back and bowed, but the three mercenaries seemed to show less respect.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them spat.

"My name is Brigadier General Ascion Blade of Gamma Division, Psi Regiment." the priest replied coolly, refusing to be intimidated. "And if you really want to join the Armed Forces, I'd suggest that you shut the hell up and start behaving maturely."

The man looked like he would have liked to stab Ascion for a moment, but thought better of it and forced his expression into a smile. "Very well then…Brigadier General. Would you be so kind as to tell us where we can enlist in the forces?"

"You can do so through me." Ark replied, stepping forward. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Ark Wolfen of Beta Division, Sigma Regiment. Athena told me to handle your application." He cast a glance at the three men; they all wore night-black armor, adorned with menacing-looking spikes, and matching helms. One carried an ice-blue spear on his back, another a lightning-golden axe, and the third a flame-lit sword. "I assume you three are warriors, by your looks, so you'll be joining my division. As for your regiment, I'll need to know your level so we can appropriately sort you out."

"Sort _us _out?" The axe-wielder laughed sardonically. "Who do you think you are, sorting us out like recyclables? Do you have any idea what we're capable of?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Ark muttered; unnervingly, the three warriors chuckled at this comment. "Your levels?"

"Hundred straight. All of us." Ark raised an eyebrow, but declined to say anything. Instead, he merely replied, "Very well, then. I guess you'll be under Keiga Seles in Zeta Regiment. You'll find him inside. Ask around."

"Thanks much." the mercenary said, before coolly pushing open the gate and striding inside, his companions following at his heels. Both siblings darkly watched them leave.

"What a bunch of sniveling farts." Ascion muttered, rumpling his hair.

"They definitely look dodgy." Ark growled, his hand inching towards his axe. "Hopefully Seles can keep an eye on them…"

"It's not just that." Ascion shuddered. "I can feel it. It's the mana in the air. It's just…dark. Demonic, even."

Ark turned to eye his brother. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're possessed. Or maybe they're just a bunch of high-leveled jerks with attitude."

"I hope it's the latter." Ark muttered ominously, as both brothers walked back towards the training fields.

-----

"Does this look like a good spot to train?" Arundale asked her companions as they walked through the beaten paths of Lith Harbor. The moonlight shone down on them through the trees and a calm evening wind blew through the landscape.

Tales rolled his eyes. "We've been walking for hours straight, Natalia. I could train in a hole in the ground right about now…"

"It's only been two hours." Arklanser cut in. "Besides, I think we should go to Florina Beach. It's peaceful there at night, and the climate isn't bad either."

"For once, I think you have a good idea." the sniper muttered, as he crossed into a side path through a bush of flowers. "Come on. There's a shortcut to Lith through this path. We can be in port in five minutes and on the sands in another five."

True to his word, the four bowmen were soon standing on a quiet cruiser ride to the shores of Florina Beach. Tales and Igzarion spoke very little during the ride, despite Arundale's best efforts to pep them up. She finally admitted defeat and turned to Arklanser. "Delinia?"

"Yes?" Arklanser said, not taking her eyes off the sea spray that threatened to splash in her face.

"You seem troubled." Arundale murmured, laying a hand on the elder rangeress' shoulder.

"Aren't we all." she replied calmly, her expression not giving anything up.

"Delinia, I know you." she interrupted. "Even for you, you seem depressed. It's not like you-"

"What do you think I am, a happy-go-lucky call girl?" the crimson-haired bowman replied darkly.

Arundale blanched lightly as she heard the comment. "I'm sorry, Delinia. Maybe I don't have any more right to be happier than you are, but I do care about you, and I want to know what's wrong."

Delinia lifted her crimson eyes up and gave the faintest trace of a smile. "At least you didn't spill hot chocolate and marshmallows over me this time."

"That was twelve years ago!"

"Whatever." Arklanser exhaled, her breath rising as mist in the cool sea air. "Today, I had a…rather unique conversation with Luke Sinclaire, if you really have to know."

"What, did he flash you or something?"

"Of course not." she snapped, her cheeks visibly red even through the darkness. "If you must know, he asked me out on a…date of sorts."

"Oh!" Arundale giggled and pressed closer to her. "So…did you say yes?"

Arklanser gently pushed her away. "No. I politely declined his offer."

Arundale raised her eyebrow. "Come on, it's obvious that he's got the hots for you. Why can't you just-"

"I don't want to, Natalia, and I couldn't care less." Delinia turned to face her companion. "You know what I am- what I've become. Do you think I have time for such a petty thing as love?"

"Love is not petty!" she snapped, color rising to her cheeks. "Love is a beautiful thing! It's what makes the world go round-"

"How many cheesy fairy tales have you been reading this days?" Arklanser snapped back, effectively ending the conversation. Arundale felt a flush of heat enter her cheeks, but then again, she'd never really had much success talking to her, and on this particular occasion, she knew she had been lucky to get more than a coherent sentence out of her.

"Come on." A short hand motion from Tales told her they had arrived, and following the others' lead, she leapt gracefully from the deck of the boat onto the white sands of Florina Beach.

Normally, the place would be crawling with experience-hungry adventurers and cranky crabs, but during the night, the island was more or less deserted. She smiled lightly as she stared out over the landscape- it was the perfect training spot. It had a wide expanse and it was free of human interference.

"So." Tales' sharp voice cut through the air and brought her to her senses. "I'll go with Iggy tonight. You two want to pair up together?"

Arundale was about to reply, but received a glare from Arklanser that signaled otherwise. "Um…no, Rysdale. I'll just watch you and Iggy for now."

Tales shrugged. "Suit yourself. Arklanser, looks like you're training solo." The latter did not reply as she walked into a thicket of trees and disappeared behind the foliage.

"What's with her?" Tales muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"She's troubled." Arundale replied shortly.

"You mean, same as always." Igzarion unsheathed his bow and deftly strung it. "Let's see what you have, Tales."

"With pleasure." He raised a hand, sparks of ice-blue energy gathering at his fingertips. "Frigid Grave!"

Spears of ice burst forth from the sand, threatening to impale the dark-haired ranger; swiftly, he dashed out of the way and commanded, "Dark Sight!"

A sudden burst of shadow obscured Igzarion's tall figure; Tales merely raked a hand across his forehead. "Cheater."

"Say whatever you want, Rysdale." came the caustic reply. "Hell Pyre!"

Tales deftly leaped out of the way as the sand beneath him erupted into flame, burning the surface of the beach into hard trinitite. Without pausing, he raised a hand and unsheathed his crossbow. "Soul Arrow…Blizzard!"

The fight continued for some time as Natalia watched them spar, a duel to the death with stakes of fire and ice. Interested, she leaned forward and watched the magic fly, the sparks of the artes dancing through the air and casting an eerie glow over the sand. It was destructive and beautiful at the same time.

"I'll wait for you guys to finish!" she called over the din, although she didn't really expect them to hear her. "I'll just go see what Delinia's doing…"

Her only reply was a shout of "Icy Hellpike!" and a shower of frozen sand that flew into her face; she shook her head and decided to look for the flame-haired ranger. Perhaps she was nearby, meditating or training?

She did not have to look long. After venturing into the wild underbrush, occasionally pausing to singe away some undergrowth with flame artes, she saw a glimmer of magenta-colored flame in the distance and knew she was close.

"Delinia?" she called. There was no audible reply.

Slowly, she raised her hand, her fingers tingling, and whispered, "Inferno." Delicately, she burned a hole through a large berry bush and strained her eyes, attempting to see through her makeshift window.

Sure enough, Arklanser was there, sitting calmly cross-legged on a rock. As Arundale watched, she could see that she had changed into a garment that resembled a cross between a toga and a sash, the fabric barely covering her body. Aside from that, her only other items of clothing were several necklaces and bracelets glimmering in the moonlight with an almost evil air. The air around her seemed to shift as she meditated, particles of air heating to her whim.

Suddenly, the ground around her erupted with a gigantic roar and a pillar of rose-colored flame ripped through the sky, creating a beacon that probably could have been seen for miles. Arundale had to shield her face from the massive heat as foliage around her spontaneously combusted, burnt to ashes by the extreme heat. In the midst of the arcane conflagration, Arklanser was calmly sitting as though nothing had happened, her eyes still closed. The flames danced around her body, enveloping her in a wave of crimson fury and turning her skin a brilliant red-magenta color.

All of a sudden, she felt the air cool down slightly as Delinia opened her eyes; piercing, emotionless slits of crimson, seemingly hotter than the flames around her. Although the brilliant gaze was directed towards the ranger in the bushes, she seemed not to notice Arundale's presence. Slowly, she raised a hand and uttered something indecipherable; then, a line of flame seemed to emanate from her fingers, heat and light brimming from her palm.

She was holding what seemed like a staff, made of brilliant flames as crimson as the person wielding them. As Arundale watched in amazement, she twirled the staff around in an arc, a brilliant flash of flame illuminating the landscape. Without pausing, she swung the staff sideways and lashed out at an imaginary target with a sudden spin kick, gracefully blowing through the air without effort.

Although Arundale didn't know it at the time, Arklanser was practicing kendo; the art of stick fighting. Her staff blazed threateningly as she swung it through the air, leaving a luminescent trail of magenta where trees and bushes had once been. She watched the display of power and dexterity with awe. _That's…amazing. I never knew she could do something like that…_

The crystals that adorned her burning figure seemed no longer to act as jewelry, but rather as though they were a part of her…as Arundale watched, she found she couldn't tell where the crystals ended and the ranger's skin began. As she made maneuver after maneuver with her staff, dancing and slashing the air, her figure seemed to change, her features melting into a blur. It was as though she wasn't a human anymore, but rather a spirit…a spirit of fire.

The current heat level was immense and would have easily scorched anyone as close as Natalia, but her demonic blood lent her a higher heat tolerance than normal. As she watched Delinia train her maneuvers in silence, she could have sworn she could hear a voice through the blazing inferno.

_Save…me…_

Natalia froze, her body tensing. Surely she couldn't have…but she could not doubt her demon ears. That voice…it sounded like Arklanser, but disembodied; as though it had been run through a damaged recorder.

_Please…somebody…save me…from the monster…I've become…_

The spirit was crying, tears of iridescent white flame running from its crimson eyes and landing on the scorched ground. As Arundale watched in awed horror, Arklanser's voice, barely audible, tore at her heart. She couldn't let her suffer…not like this…

"No!" She jumped out from her vantage point, and at the same time, Arklanser's expressionless face turned towards her, the staff of indomitable flame hurtling at her body, ready to rend her into two scorched halves.

"Bastion!" Arundale raised both hands above her head, and a barrier of golden light materialized between her and the staff. With a thunderous explosion, the staff exploded against the barrier, violet flames leaping in every direction, yet rolling off of the barrier like water and leaving Arundale unharmed. As she watched, the flames slowly began to dissipate from the spirit's figure, leaving a slightly ragged-looking Arklanser in its place.

"Delinia!" Natalia released the magic and ran towards her. "Are you all right?"

The rangeress pulled herself to her feet rather haughtily and gave Arundale a heated stare. "Natalia, I believe I told you to leave me alone while I trained."

"But…you…" Arundale stumbled for words. "I…"

"You startled me." Arklanser ran a hand through her hair, heat seeming to ripple off of the fibers as she did so. "You could have been killed."

She turned to the side, and Arundale held back a gasp as she saw the gigantic black scar running up the length of Arklanser's left arm. As she reached a hand gingerly out to touch the scarred limb, she realized that what she was feeling didn't feel like damaged tissue or flesh at all.

It felt like crystal.

Arklanser pulled back from her touch as though she had been stung, but from Natalia's expression, it was too late. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out as the two rangeresses stared at each other.

Finally, Arundale heard the sound of burnt twigs splintering as Arklanser left the clearing wordlessly. As she passed her, she could faintly make out her voice.

_Forgive me, Natalia…_

Arundale shuddered inwardly at her friend's disembodied voice- she knew the sound would be stuck forever in her head. She had known about the incident with the crystal those years back, after that story- but this was too much.

She stumbled into the scorched clearing, remnants of what once were trees and bushes crumbling into ashes beneath her feet. As she glanced around, a flash of dim light caught her eye and she stooped down to investigate.

She sifted her fingers through the ashes, until her palm came up with several tiny crystals, perfectly round black pearls, glimmering softly in the moonlight.

The sight was too much for Natalia, and she burst into tears of her own as she held the globules of crystal in her hand, the stones cool and hard against her skin.

Delinia was losing her humanity, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

-----

Zeraion Phoenix calmly watched the sky boil as he flew through the air, leaning against the rail of a standard-issue Elaesian airship. The sun was setting in the Ossyrian sky, and as the clouds whizzed past, streaks of amber cutting the sky, his sharp eyes caught the radiance of the sun as it slowly extinguished itself in the great ocean that divided the world of Bera.

"It's beautiful." he uttered, more to himself than anyone else. It was moments like this that made him appreciate life a little bit more and make him forget, for a precious second, that he wasn't the center of a huge war that could destroy the world.

The ship shuddered as it landed, nearly throwing the ranger off his feet. He lay on the deck as Rathias Gardner walked unceremoniously out of the hold.

"My apologies. I should have warned you about the abrupt landing, but as long as you're uninjured, then no matter." The bowmaster gave a slight nod. "This is where we will be residing, for as long as need be, until Athena calls us."

"Where…is this place?" Zeraion blinked, stars winking in his eyes.

"Perhaps if you picked yourself up and got a good look around you, you would be able to figure that out."

Grumbling to himself, Zeraion did as he was told, and an amazing sight met his eyes.

They had landed in what seemed to be the middle of a forest oasis. Trees, taller than even the buildings in Henesys-Elaesia, towered about the landscape, their branches laden with leaves and fruit. Birds, butterflies, and other wildlife flitted about the place, fleeing upon sight of the humans. Flowers and plants of every kind were splashed about the ground, most of which Zeraion didn't know the names of. To the northeast some distance away, he could see a small row of tree-houses, reminiscent of Athena's residence in Henesys. To top it all off, a gigantic waterfall rested in the center of the clearing, its roar heard above all else as countless gallons of water rushed over the edge of a cliff and flowed into a tide pool.

"Whoa." Zeraion blinked, unsure of what to say. It was as if he had landed in the middle of an artist's canvas; the scene was more picturesque than anything. He cast a glance at the various forms of life and smiled inwardly at what Ascion would have said if he were here. He'd probably be categorizing all the plants within minutes, and…

"Phoenix." Gardner's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "I know the atmosphere is rather intoxicating, but I don't want you falling asleep when you are supposed to be training, either. Is that clear?"

"Yes." He nodded, biting his tongue as he stared out over the land. "What is this place?"

"This is the Isle of Ascension, Phoenix." Gardner managed a faint smile as he too stared out into the expanse. "It is an island located several miles off the coast of El Nath, situated well away from the freezing air currents that cause the great snowfall there. The waterfall is a mana pool, one of the last on this world. It is the constant circulation of manaic energy by the waterfall that allows the island to sustain its great variety of life."

"Is the island inhabited?" Zeraion asked, casting a glance at the tree-houses.

"Only at times." Gardner inclined his head slightly. "The Isle of Ascension is where the spirit of the dragons is located- the very same one I told you about that deals with the fourth-class advancements. Many prospective fourth-class adventurers visit the Isle to train and meditate. Seles and I stayed here for some time when we were training as Dark Knight and Bowmaster, respectively."

"It's beautiful." Zeraion uttered, not knowing what else to say.

"Indeed." Gardner's gaze stayed on the various flora and fauna before he turned his line of sight to Zeraion. "As such, Phoenix, I think it best if you get acquainted with the atmosphere for a bit before we begin. I will be waiting by the waterfall when you get back."

"Thanks." Zeraion unsheathed the Abyssal Arund and walked off into the forest. _Athos, this place is amazing._

_Yes. I have been here before as part of my training. I see the Isle has not lost its beauty._

"Looking at this place all day, I can almost forget about the war in Victoria." Zeraion exhaled and lay against a slab of rock jutting from the ground. "It's so peaceful."

The bow shone in the sun. _Perhaps, but that does not mean you should grudge your duty._

"Leave it to you to give me a reality check, Athos." Zeraion growled, before reluctantly picking himself up and continuing deeper into the forest.

As he continued onwards, Zeraion could see that the undergrowth grew denser and denser as they ventured deeper into the forest. Branches and thorns continually grabbed at his clothes as saplings and trees gave way to thorny bushes and prickly vines. "Inferno!" he snarled in frustration, incinerating a patch of shrub.

_Be careful. I doubt the spirits will be pleased if you accidentally set their home on fire._

He scowled. "Good point. But what do you suggest? I don't have Silver Hawk, and it doesn't look like there are any hiking trails here…"

_Above you, there is a large canopy of trees, much like those in Sleepywood. You can travel by jumping along their branches- they are thick enough to support your weight._

"For once, you actually have a good idea…" Zeraion lifted his head up and studied the gigantic canopy. "It's going to be a long trip down if I fall, though…" He eyed the prickly forest floor with derision.

The spirit chuckled amusedly. _Then let us hope…that you do not fall._

_-----_

It started out like any other; a simple training trip to the Dungeon.

"Do you think it's safe?"

"Of course it's safe." The bandit threw his hair back arrogantly. "What do you think is in there besides a couple of mushrooms and lizards?"

"I don't know." The assassin looked rather unsure of himself as he twirled a throwing star about his finger. "There have been reports of zombies and evil spirits down there, and I'm not too fond of meeting those any time soon…"

"Shut up. We're not going into the Sanctuary; just staying in the Ant Tunnel. What could happen?"

"I hate it when you say that." Nevertheless, the assassin picked up his stars and loaded them into his claw. "Let's go."

"Agreed. Haste!" Energy flowed through the pair as the arte took effect, the air flow around their feet shifting to allow for better aerodynamics. With lightning speed, the pair of thieves dashed through the Kerning City sewers in preparation for a trip to the Ant Tunnel.

"Take that! Savage Blow!" The bandit's dagger flashed in the dim light as there was the noise of a Ligator being cleaved into jerky. "See? What could possibly go wrong?"

The assassin merely shrugged mutinously as he flicked a pair of stars towards a wandering mushroom. "Don't give me ideas." The pair dashed towards the exit of the swamplands, preparing to enter the great elven forest of Sleepywood.

However, when they burst through the portal, a strange sight greeted them. Instead of slimes and mushrooms wandering abundantly about the place, the Sleepywood forest seemed rather deserted save for a few wandering stumps.

"What the-" The bandit's curse cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. "Where the hell is everything?"

"I don't know." The assassin shrugged. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

"You have a bad feeling about everything." the bandit shot back. "It doesn't matter. Maybe the Ant Tunnel is a little better than this."

However, this couldn't be farther from the truth; for, as they glanced up. there was no more Ant Tunnel. Instead, a great, gigantic dome of crystal, glittering ice-blue in the dim sun and cutting through the forest, rested on the base of the spot where the great caverns once lay. Its roof was adorned with massive spires and intricate designs were carved on its walls.

"Holy _shit!" _the bandit spat. "That's not something you see every day…"

"What do you think it could be?" the assassin replied, his knuckles tightening as he ground his teeth.

"I don't know, but we're going to find out." The bandit drew his dagger and commanded, "Haste!" A cloud of dust flew into the air as he moved through the air, a streak of blue in the darkness. The assassin followed closely behind.

They arrived at Sleepywood to find the town deserted; great veins of glittering crystal had apparently run through the ground, like tree roots growing through a sidewalk. Both thieves drew in their breath as they wondered just who- or what- could have done this.

"Some ice mage on crack, perhaps?" the assassin quipped, after an awkward silence.

"I doubt it. Stay close." The bandit twirled his dagger in his palm. "Might be a couple of Cold Eyes crawling around-"

That was the last thing he said before the blade of a gigantic lance suddenly protruded from his chest, blood sheeting down his chest in a grotesque pool of crimson. Horrified, the assassin looked up to see a gigantic Taurospear, clad in black, wielding a lance of ice-blue that was now laced with steaming red.

"Fuck!" He swore as loudly as he could, not waiting to see what would happen next, and ran as fast as he could from the scene. Behind him, he could hear rumbling footsteps and knew they must be hot on his trail- but what the _hell _were Taurospears doing so far out of the Sanctuary?

Bolts of lightning crashed around him, dissipating his thoughts for a moment. "Dark Sight!" he commanded, allowing the shadow realm to take him in its cold, unfeeling grasp. He moved stealthily along the trees, straining to see his pursuers; perhaps they'd lost him.

Cautiously, he deactivated the arte only to be snatched into the air by another Taurospear, its face contorted by black magic. He screamed in horror as its voice spoke, a horrid grating noise that crashed against his ears.

_You who dare trespass upon Meteon E'traia, perish!_

"Oh, shit!" was all the assassin could say before his body imploded, gushes of blood bursting from pores in the skin and grotesquely rendering his body a lifeless husk of crushed skin and bone. The Taurospear calmly dropped the limp, mutilated body to the ground before giving a nod to its companions, hidden in the trees.

Slowly, leaving the remains of the thieves behind them, the cadre of beasts left the forest and turned back towards Meteon E'traia, the once-great city of the elves that had given rise to the Sanctuary, now restored.

-----

"_What _did you just say?" Athena snarled, rage in her eyes.

"Uh…ma'am, I…" The courier in front of her would rather have faced a horde of Balrogs than have to be subjected to the fury of the bowmistress. "Two members of Kappa Regiment was attacked today. We found their bodies near Sleepywood forest. Apparently attacked by some sort of monster."

"No." Athena snapped. "What did you say about the dungeon? You mentioned something about a dome."

"Uh, yes, ma'am." He swallowed past the massive lump in his throat. "On the horizon, we could see a gigantic dome that looked as though it were made of ice. There were spikes jutting out of its roof and indecipherable designs on its walls. It was on top of the Ant Tunnel. Very unusual; it definitely wasn't there yesterday."

Athena's face seemed to freeze for a precious fragment of a second. "Meteon E'traia…" she whispered softly, almost fearfully. "It can't be…Bloody hell."

The courier winced as he heard Athena come as close as she ever would to swearing. "Your orders, ma'am?"

"I…yes, of course." Athena sat up and managed to regain her composure somewhat. "Declare the order that Sleepywood and all surrounding areas of the Dungeon are now off-limits. Send for the other three wisemen and Seles. I must talk to them at once."

The page nodded, his throat dry. "Y-yes, ma'am." He bowed slightly and left, having no idea what on earth Meteon E'traia was or why Athena would have cause to be worried over it.

Sometimes, being the leader of Elaesia wasn't always a good thing.

-----

The moon was aloft in the sky when Zeraion returned to the waterfall.

"So, Zeraion." Gardner acknowledged his student's presence with a nod. "I trust you had a nice excursion?"

"Could have been better." the ranger sighed, rubbing his back. "I definitely need to learn Silver Hawk…"

Gardner's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "What? You mean Athena hasn't taught you that technique?"

"No. She did touch on it a couple of times, but she said it wasn't important…compared to all the other things I needed to learn." he added quickly.

The bowmaster nodded briefly. "Ah. I see…well, that does make sense. Silver Hawk is, indeed, not a beginner's technique…but given our current situation, it shall be the first thing I will have to teach you." He took a breath. "You are familiar with Puppet, of course?"

"Yes." Zeraion nodded. "With Athos, I can even summon doppelgangers of myself…"

"Ah, yes. You exhibited unusual cunning with that technique." He allowed a faint smile to cross his face. "Most people, when using that technique, instead of strategically placing their wards, merely summon a horde of replicas and hope for the best. It is good that you know some strategy." He cleared his throat briefly before continuing.

"Puppet is a summoning arte; it involves calling material to aid you in battle or other tasks. I won't go into a highly detailed explanation here, but when you use the Puppet technique, you are collecting particles of material around you to form a ward- a puppet- that shields you from attacks. Because the puppet is a nonliving object, it does not require a summoning rock to perform." He took a small, blue stone no bigger than a marble from his pocket and held it out to the ranger.

Zeraion took the rock and examined it; in the moonlight, he could see a small rune carved in the bottom of the stone. "What's this?"

"That," Gardner said calmly, "is a summoning glyph. Simply put, when you use Silver Hawk, you are gathering material to form an object as with Puppet, but it is the summoning glyph that allows the object mobility- to bring it to life, so to speak. You can make a statue of a hawk by yourself, but it is the summoning stone that gives it wings." He nodded briefly.

"I see." Zeraion studied the stone a bit more. "So how do I call the hawk?"

"You are familiar with Puppet, are you not? Just use the same technique, but call upon the power of the summoning glyph set in the stone to animate your ward." He shook his head, his ponytail drifting in the wind. "It's not really that difficult once you practice it a bit."

"All right, then." Zeraion raised the stone above his head. "Silver Hawk!"

He felt the same familiar rush of energy when he used Puppet, but this time, it was different; it felt as though something was actively pulling at his energy, as though something were attempting to drain mana from him…Furiously, he struggled to keep the arte in check, the outline of a large bird beginning to appear in front of him.

He pressed his thumb against the glyph and at the same time, felt a rush of power flow into him. Clutching the glowing stone in his fingers, he struggled as the bird began to materialize in front of him, its silver feathers shining in the moonlight.

And then, he felt the strain dissipate and he slumped to his knees, the arte having drained his energy. In front of him, he could see a rather large hawk, pecking its great beak at the ground. It gazed at him and fixed its sharp eyes on its summoner for a few seconds before it disappeared.

"Impressive for your first try." Gardner nodded approvingly. "Most people have trouble making the hawk assume a physical form."

"Thanks." Zeraion staggered to his feet; just then, a thought hit him. "Wait. If this technique requires a summoning rock, how come the Devil Children can do it from scratch?" He racked his brains, but could not recall any of them ever using a summoning rock in performing the arte.

Gardner chuckled. "The Devil Children have been studying arcane artes for quite a long time, if you recall." He ran a hand through his hair. "Silver Hawk can be performed without a summoning glyph if you are able to harness an amount of mana strong enough to substitute for the glyph in the magic reaction. Rysdale, Natalia, Traphes and Delinia have been studying magic for nearly a decade, and I suspect that is what granted them the ability to use magic with unparalleled proficiency for a bowman."

His gaze sharpened as he looked at Zeraion. "If you work hard enough, you may be able to use summoning artes without the use of a glyph as well, but as things stand, we will have to rely on summoning rocks for the time being." He drew a pouch from the inside of his robe and handed it to Zeraion, who opened it to find it full of the blue stones.

"Keep those with you at all times. If you need more, there is a supply located behind the waterfall. They are stored there by the island's visitors for communal use."

"Thank you." Zeraion bowed slightly.

"However…" Gardner's eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight. "There is an extension of Silver Hawk that I feel you should know about. It is a technique exclusive to the bowmasters known as Fire Phoenix. Its power far surpasses that of Silver Hawk and if you are fortunate enough to learn it, will benefit you greatly should you need to engage in direct battle against Isentryx or his forces. However, I should warn you that it is not easy learning."

"I can hardly wait." Zeraion said, half dryly and half sincerely.

Gardner chuckled. "Not yet, Phoenix. You still have to learn how to sustain your hawk for more than ten seconds. After that, we have to work on flying and identifying wind currents and weather patterns, and you will also need to be able to perform aerial maneuvers such as loops, dives, and barrel rolls."

Zeraion swore under his breath, earning himself a light-hearted reprimand from Athos.

-----

"Say _what_?!" Colonel Luke Sinclaire snarled at the page cowering before him. "Say that again!"

"I…Colonel, sir…" The page wet the inside of his mouth and prayed that he could go back to Lieutenant Colonel Wolfen unharmed before the day was over. "Athena said that Sleepywood and the Dungeon areas are now strictly off-limits to all officers and units. Two members of Kappa Regiment were forcibly displaced there…"

"Damn it!" Sinclaire swore rather forcibly, swinging a fist through the air. "And she had us scout out a training area there yesterday…" He heard a small noise and realized the page was still shaking in his presence. "Oh, very well, you can leave."

"Yes, sir." The page scurried off, leaving Sinclaire to his own devices. "This can't be good." Slowly, he raked a hand through his hair and walked slowly off to the barracks, his footsteps thudding across the ground.

A group of twenty or so rangers and snipers were lined up in front of him when he arrived, their uniforms neatly identical to each others'. They all raised a hand to their foreheads and saluted as he calmly made his presence known.

"At ease." he commanded, and the bowmen ceased their rigid posture and fell to lazily plopping down in chairs or sitting on the floor. Sinclaire sighed deeply before continuing. "Alright. You might have already heard about this, but two members of Delta Division, Kappa Regiment, wandered a little too close to Sleepywood today. Starting now, Athena's declared that Sleepywood and the Dungeon are officially off-limits."

There was an immediate outburst of protest. "What the hell? We spent the whole day clearing the forest out yesterday! That's bullsh-"

Sinclaire cut aside the talk with a wave of his hand. "Enough. We've recovered their bodies, and I can tell you it's not a pretty sight. So unless you can survive having your brain turned into hamburger meat, I strongly suggest you heed the order and stay the hell away."

The protests fell into hurried mutters of assent as the group dispersed, save for one dark-haired ranger, a blue-colored Metus slung across his back. He strode over to Sinclaire. "Hey, Luke."

"Hey." Sinclaire acknowledged his colleague's presence with a friendly smile. "What's up, Ren?"

Colonel Reneas Aries gave a chuckle. "Not much, Luke. You?"

"Ah, same old, same old…trained the skills a bit." Sinclaire replied rather casually. "I suppose you didn't do anything interesting either?"

"Well, we did have a little incident a couple hours back." Reneas coughed delicately. "Mith should have known better than to try practicing his Inferno near the airstrip's fuel tanks."

"Is he all right?"

"It was close, but he'll live." Reneas flicked a strand of black hair out of his face. "I hope he doesn't plan on starting a family, though…"

Sinclaire chuckled. "There's always adoption." He turned away from the colonel slightly.

"Something wrong?" Reneas asked.

"No."

"You said that last time when we ate at that sushi place." Reneas gave a low chuckle. "I told you not to use more than a pinch of the green stuff, but you insisted." He sighed in reminiscence. "I've never seen anyone drink ten cups of ice water that fast before…"

"It was twelve. And a couple accidental cups of sake in the bargain." Sinclaire smiled and exhaled deeply. "That's the last time I decide to light my mouth on fire and get drunk at the same time…"

"Unlucky in love, huh?" Reneas shrugged.

Sinclaire's face went the color of his hair. "How did you-"

"You have that 'I just got rejected by the only woman I actually love and she doesn't care shit for me' look." the ranger said pointedly.

"What kind of look is that?"

"Never mind." Reneas looked Sinclaire interestedly in the eye. "Who is it this time? Captain Sersia? Lieutenant Swordian? Wait…it's Colonel Faelin, isn't it? She has a nice-"

"No." Sinclaire cut him off. "You wouldn't understand."

"Who could understand better than me, Luke?" Reneas said heartily, clapping him on the back.

"All right, if you really must know…" Sinclaire grit his teeth. "It's Delinia Arklanser."

Reneas' eyebrows flew upwards. "Arklanser? You mean the Devil-"

"Yes!" Sinclaire grabbed a fistful of his hair in his hand and threatened to pull it out. "I like- no, I love her! She's the only girl I've met that doesn't look like a total slut!"

Reneas snickered beneath his hand. "I see. So, what'd you do?"

"I asked her out and she slapped me." Sinclaire muttered, holding out his carmine hand.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah." Sinclaire decided not to mention the incident with the ring. "What am I supposed to-"

"Just tell her how you feel, and don't piss her off. It's not that hard."

"How would you know?" Sinclaire sullenly snapped.

Reneas raised an eyebrow. "Just do it. At least if you fail, you'll know you tried."

"Some therapist you are." Sinclaire snarled, getting up and leaving the room in a huff. However, upon second thought, Reneas' words may have sounded corny and overused, but they were right. Deep inside, he knew that apologizing and telling her the flat-out truth was the only thing he could do.

Indeed, as soon as he made his way to the atrium that was the entrance to the headquarters of Elaesia, he saw the four Devil Children coming in through the door, apparently having come back from a late-night training session. He noticed that Arklanser in particular looked rather ragged, as though she had hiked over several mountains.

Tales and Natalia seemed to converse for a moment before the latter left, blushing, leaving the three bowmen and Sinclaire in the atrium. Both Tales and Igzarion looked up to see Sinclaire and burst into fits of silent laughter.

"Do you mind if I talk to her in private?" Sinclaire said, rather sharply. Both looked slightly surprised at his new show of assertiveness, but complied, inching away from the two rangers.

"So." Sinclaire exhaled, running a hand through his hair; moments ago, he had planned out the perfect apology and conversation, but now that he was actually face to face with _her, _his monologue had completely flown out the window and been hit by a meteor. "I…"

Arklanser eyed him emotionlessly as he struggled for an appropriate introduction; finally, he gave up. "Look. I'm…really sorry about what happened earlier. I…I didn't know that you were so sensitive about this, and I…" He exhaled, eager to get the worst over. "I apologize."

He expected little after his slap-dash apology, but her face seemed to relax a little. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Please…" He offered his hand to her. "Call me Luke."

Her eyes flared up, and he realized too late that it was the hand that was adorned with his ring.

"Don't.." A feral fury seemed to overtake her. "Don't…put that accursed _thing…in my presence!" _She drew her fist back, now glittering with spectral flames, and Sinclaire could feel the heat almost searing his face as it flew forward-

"Delinia, _stop!" _Another arm flew out just as hers was about to make contact with his face, and he saw that Tales had seized Arklanser's arm, just millimeters away from his head. "Don't…do this." Her expression calmed as the sniper gently applied an ice arte to extinguish the flames around her hand. "We're in a public place now. There's no need to get all riled up…"

Arklanser seemed frozen in shock for a moment before she returned to her placid mood. "Yes…thank you, Rysdale. I lost myself there." She gave Sinclaire's hand a vicious stare before turning to its owner. "I'm sorry, but…I need to be alone now, please." She bowed lightly and left in a hurry.

"What's with her?" Sinclaire muttered, massaging his hand. "All it is is a ring…It's not like I stole it from her or anything…"

At this, however, Tales and Igzarion's expressions perked up with interest. "Let me see that." Igzarion said, reaching a hand out for the ring. As he examined it, his expression turned into one of understanding. "Oh…I see."

"What?"

Igzarion darkly returned the ring to Sinclaire. "If you must know…she had a rather shocking event with this crystal some years past." He sighed. "It completely traumatized her. You must forgive her…She's slightly sensitive about the subject."

"What event?"

Tales and Igzarion exchanged ominous glances. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Athena already told me about Natalia Arundale." Sinclaire shrugged. "I can keep another."

Both Tales and Igzarion were stunned for a split second. "You…know about Natalia?"

"Yes, I do." Sinclaire said shortly. "And I promised Athena I wouldn't tell anyone about her. Now, please tell me what happened to Arklanser. I…" He sighed. "I really care about her, and I don't want to cause her any more pain than she already has."

Tales sighed. "Well, I suppose you have a right to know." He cast a glance around the atrium before motioning to Sinclaire. "Follow us."

The auburn-haired ranger followed Tales and Igzarion to an empty room, where the latter immediately locked the door. "I'm sorry, but if you truly care about Delinia, what you choose to hear must not leave this room. If you were to…"

His gaze was more serious than any word, and Sinclaire nodded. "I promise."

"Now." Tales folded his arms as they sat down at a table. "Delinia was born in Henesys, but she left when she was ten. Both of her parents were magicians. One day, they were approached by the Omega Sector in need of research scientists to work against the alien invaders. They accepted the position, and she went to Omega Sector along with her parents and her younger brother."

"Wait." Sinclaire interrupted. "Was her hair always that color? It just doesn't seem natural…Did she get it permanently dyed at one point or something?"

Tales exhaled deeply. "You could say that…but her hair wasn't always red. It was brown."

"Were her eyes originally red as well?"

"No."

"All right. Go on." Sinclaire lay back in his chair.

The sniper sighed and went on. "Coincidentally, at that time, the scientists at Omega Sector were on a breakthrough. They discovered that the dark crystal- the one you're wearing now- was linked to the aliens, and they needed to conduct experiments on it."

He adjusted his glasses and went on. "They discovered that the dark crystal had tremendous mana potential and was probably linked to the aliens' technology or weaponry. If they could figure out how to use this power, the results could be very impressive. However…" He sighed. "The dark crystal's mana is very unstable. It is nearly impossible to isolate or otherwise stabilize its power; for that, an organic source is needed. At first, the scientists tried to grow the crystal on plants, but they soon realized that was impossible. They needed an animal. More precisely, a human."

Sinclaire exhaled. "You mean…"

"Yes. Delinia was chosen as the test subject for the crystal." he replied.

"How-" Sinclaire stammered. "That's…What did her parents say?! Didn't they do anything?!"

"You must understand, they meant her no harm. The scientists only wanted to use her as a culture for the crystal; they intended to do nothing to her directly. The crystal would have slight parasitic effects on her body, but nothing life-threatening. All the scientists were confident that the crystal would do her no harm, although, as you might expect, her parents didn't take it that way. They pleaded with the scientists to use someone else, but it was of little use. She was injected with fragments of the crystal."

"And…what happened?" Sinclaire asked, dreading the answer.

Tales pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. "Nothing. The experiment went exactly as planned. They were able to isolate the crystal within her successfully and prevent it from doing her any harm, and they performed their experiments without any damage whatsoever to her body. They calculated that the crystal would lie dormant and harmless within her for the rest of her life."

"But then…if the experiments did nothing, then how…did she…" Sinclaire did not finish his sentence.

"That," Igzarion cut in, "was the result of something that occurred three years later."

"What happened? Did the crystal suddenly go out of control or something?"

"No. They performed weekly tests on her and as expected, the crystal was perfectly stable. There was no effect whatsoever."

"Then what could have occurred to make the crystal go out of control?" Sinclaire queried.

Tales sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "It was three years after they first performed the experiment on her. They had researched the effects of the crystal and as a result, had developed some sort of device- a weapon. It's classified, but we do know that it was a bomb of some sort. A superweapon, if you will, fueled by the massive energy of the dark crystal. Her parents were working on the weapon at the time, and she and her brother were in the room as well while she received her weekly examination."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not come. Slowly, he gestured to Igzarion. "Could you-"

"Of course." Igzarion sighed and focused his gaze on Sinclaire. "They still don't know what happened- a lapse in security, an equipment malfunction, but it seems that there was a breach in the Sector's security. Somehow or other, the aliens had gotten inside the complex and were determined to blow the whole place up."

He sighed. "The aliens had come equipped with a super-machine known as the MT-10. It was a forerunner of the less advanced MT-09 and was the size of a small building. It was equipped with the most destructive technology that they could muster, including a megaton heat cannon."

The faintest tinge of pain showed in his voice. "The MT-10 aimed its cannon at the scientific complex and fired. The building and the bomb inside were destroyed instantly, and her parents and brother were killed."

"B-but…how did she survive, then?" Sinclaire stammered.

"I won't go into the details, but it seems that the dark crystal inside her was activated by the extreme heat. Apparently, an arcane reaction occurred- not a demon, but something similar- that caused the crystal to gain a mind of its own, so to speak. It transformed her body and protected her from the intense heat. Unfortunately…" He sighed. "It seems that it also caused her to…lose control of her body."

"What do you mean by that?" Sinclaire asked nervously.

Igzarion fixed his steely glare on the ranger. "By the time reinforcement troops arrived at Omega Sector, the battle was over. They could do nothing except look for survivors in the ruins, and they found only Delinia."

Tales sighed. "Apparently, she had destroyed every building and machine and killed every single alien and person in the area…with her _bare hands._"

Sinclaire sucked in his breath deeply.

"After that, the council of officers in the Sector debated furiously on what to do with her. Some proposed killing her, while others argued to release her. Finally, General Maestro spoke with Athena, and they agreed that as long as the crystal was not activated within her, she would not be a danger to anyone. She was sent back to Henesys and continues to live there to this day."

"I…" Sinclaire sighed, his head in his hands. "I didn't know."

"I know." Tales said gently. "Her state of mind is understandable. The crystal changed her appearance and personality completely. She cannot feel any emotion, save for anger. The crystal lies within her, dormant, but ever since it was awakened by the heat ray, it grows, slowly and surely, and when it has completely taken over her body…she will die."

"I'm sure she appreciates your feelings for her," Igzarion continued, "but she cannot express her own feelings towards you. The crystal will not let her."

"Isn't there some way to help her?" Sinclaire pleaded desperately. "Can't they take the crystal out or-"

"We've tried, but to do so would deprive her of mana and kill her." Igzarion sighed. "Her plane of existence is nothing but torture. Trust me…" His eyes seemed to flicker wistfully for a moment. "I would know."

"I…" Sinclaire sighed. "There must be something I can do for her. _Anything."_

"If you really wish to help her…then please leave her alone." Tales sighed. "She cannot feel your emotion for her and if you persist, it will only hurt you. Do yourself both a favor and please set her aside from your mind."

At this, Sinclaire's experssion was unreadable; he pushed his chair aside and walked out of the room in a huff.

"Do you think-" Igzarion started to say.

"Leave it." Tales sighed. "It's not my business to control his emotions."

Both bowmen silently stared at the door through which Sinclaire had left.

-----

"Anything interesting happen today?" Gault Isentryx tried to smile conversationally at the quivering Taurospear before him.

"_N-no, sir. There were two intruders today, but they were quickly disposed of."_

Gault sighed. "Very well. You may leave." The Taurospear scurried away, glad to be out of the dark bowman's presence. Gault ran two fingers across his forehead. "Dear me, everyone is rather talkative these days." He sighed. "I would rather enjoy some human company about now."

He caught sight of Grace walking casually by, staring at the walls of Meteon E'traia, and sighed to himself. "That above all else."

Absentmindedly, he traced a finger in the dust before him, writing a simple, single word into the stone.

_Phoenix_

He stared at the name for a second before rubbing it out, losing it forever in the cloud of dust that was raised up.

A sudden presence touched his mind and he leaped upon it immediately, eager for some conversation. _Yes?_

_It is I, milord._

_Ah, Balthazar. _Gault smiled. _I must admit,_ _it is rather nice to hear your voice._

_And yours as well. I have been wondering when exactly you want us to handle that situation that you spoke of earlier._

_Whenever you please. _

_My spear thirsts for blood. I would rather get it over with as soon as possible. Besides, I fear that someone may have seen through our pitiful human disguises- for one, that rather insipid priest._

_Oh, you must mean Blade…Phoenix's brother. _Gault smiled sardonically. _I suppose you are right. Phoenix and Rathias Gardner are, after all, away from Elaesia, so this would indeed be an opportune time for attack._

_Thank you, milord._

_You're welcome, Balthazar. Send my respects to Athena._

_With pleasure._

_-----_

The moon was high in the sky when Ascion Blade was writing out an equation for a holy arte. He scribbled a few variables on his piece of parchment before turning to look at the moon outside. Tonight, it was full- Ascion eyed it with distrust. He looked back to his sheet of arcane calculations, but they seemed rather blocky and inconvenient now, even to him. Sighing, he pushed the sheet of paper away and rose from his chair.

His robes fluttered gently in the hall as he walked, his thoughts mulling in his head. He couldn't stop thinking about those three strangers- the ones that had appeared at the gate today and demanded to sign up for the armed forces. They seemed rather inhuman; demonic, even. And there was definitely something that radiated evil from them; the priest knew well enough about mana signatures to know that this was one he'd never seen before, and in this day and age, that was not a good thing.

His older sibling, an axe-crusader with long raven-black hair, appeared at the door. He tensed for a moment, but relaxed when he saw the familiar face. "Hey, Ark." he muttered, running a hand through his brown hair. "What are you doing in my ward?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my little brother?" Ark shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.

Ascion scowled at the word _little_. "One certainly wouldn't hurt."

"Fine. If you must know, everyone in Beta is being bitchy, Marron's back and being the same jerk as ever, and yes, I was thinking about those three mudheads as well."

"I see." Ascion studied the floor for a moment. "Have you seen them? What are they like?"

"I hate to admit it, but they're actually pretty good." Ark shrugged listlessly. "They beat the living crap out of everyone during training…even used a few arcane artes I've never seen before. Seles was rather proud."

"He would be." Ascion muttered. "Did you tell him about your suspicions?"

"Yes, but that didn't change anything." Ark sighed. "It's just…You don't see people like that walking around every day. You just don't."

"I know what you mean." Ascion stretched his arms into the air. "I've never seen such a screwy mana signature before…"

Ark cracked his knuckles. "Screwy or not, I wouldn't trust a gift from them any day."

"Yes." Ascion muttered. "Full moon's out tonight."

"Yeah, it's beautiful, isn't it?" Ark smiled.

Ascion sighed. "The astrology charts say otherwise."

Ark raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly believe that divination crap?"

Ascion declined to answer and stole a glance at the clock on the wall. It was a minute to midnight, the seconds slowly ticking away on the slightly rusty timepiece.

"Where's Zer?" Ascion said, rather abruptly.

Ark raised his eyebrow again, much more seriously this time. "Why would you bring that up?"

"Because I miss him." the priest snapped. "He's our brother, or have you forgotten that?"

"No." Ark sullenly replied. "I miss him as much as you do, but he's in Ossyria. Athena sent him away with Gardner for some training."

"That sucks." the priest noted dimly.

"Yeah. Well, I hope he gets back soon." Ark muttered. It was obvious that he felt more strongly about Zeraion's absence, but he was not willing to show it.

Ascion sighed and turned to the wall, his eyes wandering aimlessly once more to the clock.

The second hand came to rest on the twelve.

A sudden explosion tore through the Gamma Division wing of the Elaesian Armed Forces, throwing Ascion off his feet and sending him flying several yards through the hallway as flames erupted around him. He hit a wall with a sickening thud and felt the acrid taste of blood and smoke in his mouth; he could hear the sounds of screaming and shouting in the distance as darkness clouded his eyes. "Shit…Dispel!" he roared, a flash of light piercing through the smoke as his vision cleared. He staggered to his feet, bloody but alive. "Heal!" he commanded, pointing a hand at himself; his wounds closed, although a stiffness still remained.

Feverishly, Ascion glanced around him; there was no sign of anyone else, and the fire was rapidly spreading. "Ark? _Ark?! _Where the hell are you?!"

There was the weak sound of armor rustling in the distance as he saw a tall figure through the smoke. "Here." Ark muttered thickly. "Used Power Guard to defend myself, I think that stopped any serious damage…" He winced slightly. "Ascion? Where are you?"

"Over here!" Ascion shouted, rushing through the fumes to find his brother. He laid a hand on the wounded warrior's body and muttered, "Heal." Ark sighed in relief as his wounds closed; he cast a glance at the obscured figure of his brother. "What the _hell _just happened?"

"What makes you think I know?!" Ascion spat back. "Goddess…" He stared at the burning wreckage of what had once been the Gamma Division's wing; he could see bodies strewn all over the place, but it was impossible to recognize any of them in the ensuing inferno. "Shit…This isn't good."

"It was them." Ark clenched his fist and drew his axe, glimmering in the flames. "It couldn't have been anyone else…"

There was another explosion in the distance, more screams, and both siblings winced. "You're right." Ascion muttered, drawing his wand. "Let's end this."

His pulse throbbing painfully in his temples, Ascion clutched his wand tightly in his bloodstained hand and followed Ark's footsteps as he ran, the noise of his footsteps beating in time to his heart. _No…Don't let anyone else die. We have to stop this._

"Damn it!" Ark swore loudly as a stray piece of shrapnel nearly hit him. "Where the hell could they be?!"

"I don't know!" Ascion roared back. Suddenly, an idea hit him. "Wait. I can track their mana signatures…let's see." He closed his eyes as light began to glow on his palms; finally, he opened them, as if he had awoken from a dream. "There!" he shouted, pointing into a thicket of steel framework and raging flames.

Ark winced. "All right. Let's see…" He raised his Helios above his head. "Combo Attack…Slag Assault!" He slammed the blade of the great axe into the ground, rending it apart; there was a savage howl from the rocks as the flaming wreckage shifted aside to reveal a path through the blazing inferno. "Come on!" he roared, rushing straight into the heart of the blaze.

One of the warriors was there, his flame-lighted sword flashing in the night as he cruelly raised it and aimed it at various buildings; there were explosions around the landscape as he cast his artes of destruction. _"Yes…that's it…perish, you pitiful beings…"_

"Reprisal!" Ark roared, soaring into the air, his axe glittering with light. He brought the blade of his axe down upon his enemy, who just barely managed to guard against it with the edge of his sword. There was a gigantic shower of sparks as the weapons impacted against each other, sending both combatants reeling slightly.

"_Foolish human." _the warrior uttered, his features more twisted than ever in the light of the flames. _"You shall not defeat me!"_

"Who- or what- the hell are you?!" Ark roared, his axe drawn for another attack. "Panic Cannon!"

He aimed the axe straight for his opponent's throat, only to have it fly through thin air as the warrior seemingly melted into thin air before him. Panic shooting through him, Ark twisted around to see the warrior now behind him, his sword raised for the deathblow.

"Shining Ray!" Ascion bellowed, a bolt of holy energy shooting from his wand and barreling straight into the warrior. He flew some feet into the air before landing on his feet, a feral look of fury crossing his face. _"Very well then, behold my true form!"_

Wings erupted from the man's skeletal armor as he raised his sword to the moonlit sky, glittering dark in the night. As Ark and Ascion watched in horror, he grew taller…his eyes became red slits…horns sprouted from his head…a gigantic, spiked tail shot from underneath his cape…

"_I am Nebuchadnezzar, one of Lord Isentryx's Devil Three and your doom! Begone! Blazing Wrath!"_

A bolt of white-hot flame gathered at the point of his gigantic blade and erupted at the siblings, threatening to burn them alive. Quickly, Ascion commanded, "Invincible!" as Ark roared, "Power Guard!" The two spells combined managed to absorb much of the damage, leaving them both unfazed. Ark swallowed, his mouth dry. "All right, Ascion. I'll attack him directly and you support from the side. Agreed?"

"No." Ascion's face was suddenly calm. "I'll take him on alone. Remember, he still has two more companions to take care of. You've got to find them and defeat them."

"But, Ascion-" Ark tried to speak, but nothing would come.

"I'll be fine. Now _go!" _Ascion roared, giving Ark a shove. This seemed to shake the crusader to his senses, and he nodded briefly before running into the distance.

"_So, you are Ascion Blade." _Nebuchadnezzar chuckled softly. _"The great Zeraion Phoenix's brother, indeed. I shall be happy to watch you burn among these ashes."_

"Like hell I will." Ascion snarled, fury emanating from him. "Holy Arrow!"

A spectral bow, its limbs composed of pure light, materialized at his hands; he drew back the invisible string and let loose a storm of arrows at the Balrog, but all either missed or were deflected by some sort of invisible force. Nebuchadnezzar merely laughed crueely as the arrows bounced off of his armor.

_"Do you honestly think you can defeat me with such child's play?" _the demon snarled.

"Yes…I can." The demon whipped around to see that Ascion had teleported behind it, a spear of radiant light now in his hands. "Prism Lancer!"

He slammed the holy weapon against the demon with greater effect; a shower of sparks flew into the air as Nebuchadnezzar howled with pain, the holy weapon piercing its armor and cutting into its flesh. Some stinking black fluid- most assuredly not blood- dribbled out of the demon's wound as it stared at the priest.

"_So." _it snarled, fury in its eyes. _"You can fight a little…" _Nebuchadnezzar raised his great blade. _"Die! Finality!"_

The air was thick with sparks as the blade of the gleaming sword impacted furiously against Ascion's spear, the priest constantly forced to defend against the flaming blade as it threatened to cleave him apart. He drove back the demon's blow, sweat flying off of his body, and raised his arm. "Éclair de Larmes!"

A glyph of light appeared underneath the great demon, rays of white piercing upwards; it gave a howl as the glyph suddenly exploded with holy energy, drowning it in a burst of piercing light. _"You…" _Nebuchadnezzar growled. _"You are not an ordinary priest."_

"What would you expect…from the heir to the leader of the magicians?" Ascion hefted his lance threateningly. "Shining Ray!"

Another bolt of light flew at the Balrog, but this time, he blocked it, the light bifurcating harmlessly around his sword. _"But I will have you know…I am no ordinary Balrog either." _He gave his twisted smile and raised his blade to the sky. _"Hell's Deluge!"_

Ascion had a second's warning before the ground erupted below him, blasts of flame and rock smashing into his body and throwing him into the air. He spiraled like a rag doll into the air before hitting the ground with a crash and looked up to see the Balrog looming above him.

"_You fought well, priest." _the Balrog snarled. _"But now, you perish."_

He was about to deal the final blow when a voice rang out.

"Lancreaver!"

Spires of ice ripped through the ground and flew towards Nebuchadnezzar; he barely had time to turn around before the spikes smashed into him, sending him flying sideways along the ground. Ascion looked confusedly about him to see an emerald-haired girl running towards him.

"Iris?" Ascion blinked, dazed.

"Who else?" she snapped. "Heal yourself, you're bleeding."

"Oh. Right." He shook his head and murmured "Heal." "So," he quickly added, dusting himself off, "when did you learn that attack? That's an extremely high-leveled ice arte…"

"I stole a couple glances at your encyclopedia." she smirked. Before he could reply, a sudden bolt of fire whizzed over their heads. "Less talk, more action. I'll fill you in on everything later." she muttered.

"Anyone dead?" Ascion asked as they dodged the bolts of flame.

Iris winced. "Yeah, a couple of people. I couldn't tell any faces, but I have a bad feeling."

"Me too. Invincible!" Ascion flinched as a blast of fire narrowly missed scorching him to a crisp. "We need more room to maneuver. Let's see…" As Iris watched in amazement, he pulled a small stone from his robe. "Summon Dragon!" he bellowed.

The stone flashed in his palm before vanishing in a bright burst of light. In its place, a gigantic cobalt-blue dragon was now resting on the ground, licking its claws sedately. Ascion quickly leaped onto the dragon. "Get on!" he motioned quickly to the awestruck mage, who did as she was told.

"You…didn't tell me you could do that." she stammered.

"There's a lot of things I haven't told you." he replied, soaring into the air, as Nebuchadnezzar roared in rage and flew up to intercept them. "Get ready…" He raised his hand, glowing with spectral energy. "Photonic Ray!"

A holy rune appeared on his palm as he initiated the arte, glowing with energy; just as the great demon was about to run them through with his sword, he released the magic; a brilliant flash of searing white, brighter than the sun, slashed through the air and ripped through the Balrog, blinding it, as it howled in agony. Blinded, it flew into a burning building and crashed with a sickening thud, where it seemed to melt away in the darkness.

"Is it…dead?" Iris winced as she saw the flames burn.

"Unfortunately, no." Ascion sighed, guiding the dragon to the ground. "That, I believe, was an arch-demon; it can only be killed by destroying its heart. I, of course, was stupid enough to aim for its head…" He chuckled humorlessly. "But never mind. At least you're safe."

"I…" A pink flush crept over the mage's cheeks. "You…actually care about me?"

Ascion froze and mentally screamed at himself for being so careless. "Of course I care about you…" he muttered. "But only as a friend."

She chuckled. "Whatever, Blade."

The dragon landed and disappeared in a flash of white, as Ascion and Iris leapt to the ground. "Now, come on." Ascion panted, dusting off his robe. "There are still two left, and Ark probably needs the help…"

Iris was about to reply, when she suddenly froze, her gaze trailing off into the distance, and Ascion followed her stare.

In the distance, amidst the wreckage of the buildings, there was a single, solitary figure, draped in the ominous curtain of the moonlight and slowly walking towards them.

-----

_Ascion, I hope you'll be all right…_

Ark Wolfen's heart raced as he dashed away from the lone figure of his brother and deeper into the ruins of the Elaesian buildings. He did not doubt the priest's abilities, having witnessed his powers some time ago during that battle near Henesys with the rebels- but fighting that demon, all by himself? Ark shook his head and tried not to think about it.

Far off in the distance, he could hear a pained roar and hoped that Ascion had gotten the upper hand; he raised his axe threateningly and cautiously glanced around, waiting for an enemy to appear.

He did not have to wait long; from behind the burning skeleton of a nearby building, another bone-clad warrior emerged, his great axe glittering with evil lightning as he prepared to raise it.

"Angel Pyre!" Ark roared, raising his hands in preparation for the magic. The arte struck its aim as bolts of lightning erupted from the ground underneath the warrior, but Ark sunk to the ground shortly thereafter, cursing himself for not working on his arcane artes as much as Seles had told him to.

"Shit." he snarled, as the warrior turned towards him, his axe raised. Slowly, lightning began to gather at the spiked tip of his axe, growing ever larger in intensity-

"Just Guard!"

The bolt of lightning spiraled off of an invisible barrier and flew back towards its caster in a wide arc, impacting with a loud explosion that told Ark that the hit had been successful. Shaking his hair out of his face, Ark looked behind him to see Dariel Marron and Ryden, swords drawn.

"Holy…" Marron's voice betrayed all emotion. "This is hell."

"Tell me about it." Ark shrugged. "I could use a little help here…"

"Will do." Ryden winced as a bolt of lightning nearly hit them. "Dariel, do you want to stay here, or should I?"

The Paladin considered the question briefly. "You stay." he muttered, at last. "I'll go find the last one while you distract him."

"Agreed." Marron unsheathed his Heaven's Gate and made his way deeper into the flames; Ryden and Ark then turned to face their demonic adversary. "Just like old times, huh?" Ryden tried to laugh, although the current situation wouldn't allow it.

Ark smiled humorlessly. "Yes…" he murmured. "Just like old times, indeed."

A sudden salvo of lightning bolts brought them out of their reverie; by common consent, both warriors dashed towards their foe in a helix pattern, attempting to confuse the demon. As Ryden unsheathed his katana, glittering with spiritual energy, Ark raised his axe. "Sovereign Gale!"

The blade of the axe, fueled by the sudden shift in the air currents, flowed effortlessly through the air, threatening to cleave the demon in half; he blocked the blow with his own weapon only to hear from behind, "Helm Breaker!"

There was a loud crunching noise as the blade dealt a swift blow to the disguised Balrog, the edge of the blade slicing deeply into the blackened armor. Ryden withdrew his blade, laced with noxious goo, and raised it in a battle stance. "Who are you?!" he commanded.

The warrior laughed, wings beginning to erupt from his back. _"If you really must know, I am Melchior, one of the great Devil Three that serves Lord Isentryx! You shall perish!" _The blade of his gigantic axe gleamed with lightning. _"Soul Singer!"_

Ryden only narrowly managed to block the arc of lightning that hurtled towards him, skidding backwards along the ground as he took the force of the attack. "Damn it." he muttered, wiping a trickle of blood from his face. "This is not good."

Ark charged forward, his axe raised, and roared, "Slag Assault!" The blade flashed through the ai before embedding itself in the ground, gigantic chunks of rock hurtling at the demon. Undaunted, Melchior smashed them all aside with the haft of his axe effortlessly, as though he were playing baseball.

"_Perish!" _Melchior growled, raising his claw to cast an arcane arte. "_Voltaic Tempest!" _

The ground underneath Ark erupted with lightning, catching him in a deadly stream of electricity as the arte made contact. Swearing, Ryden swung his sword in a wide arc before raising it to the air. "Dracon!" he commanded.

He felt the familiar sensation of power shooting into him as his father's spirit suffused him, and then he was back on his feet, now holding the great sword that Alastor had become. Raising the sword fiercely, he charged at Melchior. "Stinger!"

The air sparkled and crackled as Ryden's blade flew through the air, the particles in the air disassembling from the extreme heat. At the same time, Melchior raised his axe to guard; there was a gigantic explosion as the two made contact, both flying through the air from the recoil of the impact.

"_You are becoming rather troublesome, son of Dracon." _Melchior gave his cruel smile and raised his axe to the air, crackling with lightning. _"Bow down as I cast the highest of artes! Malediction!"_

Ryden looked up to see arcane glyphs beginning to form above and below him, threatening to envelop him in a devastating column of electricity; swearing, he ran a hand across his blade and uttered, "Dash!" The swordsman leaped out of the area of effect just in time; nevertheless, he was still thrown backwards by the force that radiated from the blast and realized just how powerful the attack was. He growled threateningly, his blade gripped tightly between his hands.

"Let's end this." Ryden uttered, his sword radiating with energy so that it became less of a sword and more of a concentrated white-hot beam of lightning. He charged forward, the wind whistling in his ears. "High Time!"

The gigantic bolt of lightning that his weapon had become slammed directly into Melchior, knocking the great Balrog into the air; Ryden wound up and drew the sword back into another arc, leaping into the air to meet the demon in mid-air. "Vortex!"

Ryden began to spin through the air as the laws of gravity dissipated around him, his sword flashing around his body and turning him into an extremely dangerous projectile; he hurtled straight into the Balrog and heard the satisfying noise of the sword searing through armor and flesh. He completed the maneuver and landed on the ground to see Melchior severely injured, but unfortunately, still very much alive.

"_Perish." _he snarled, raising the blade of his axe, and Ryden tensed back, preparing to dodge. _"Male-"_

There was a sudden roar of "Vanguarde!" Ryden looked to see something soaring at high speed towards the Balrog; Ark charged forward, the blade of his axe aflame with holy energy, and barreling into Melchior with several arcs of light; he could hear roars of pain through the flames and saw Ark raise his axe and leap into the air, preparing for the final blow.

There was a roar as he drove the blade of the axe downward, creating a gigantic column of light that blew through the ground and spiraled into the sky, ripping through the Balrog. It gave a scream as the light rippled through it, and as both warriors watched, Melchior slowly melted into thin air.

"I…think it's dead." Ark muttered, standing up and dusting himself off.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Ryden sighed. "In any case, let's go find Dariel. He's probably getting blown to bits right now."

Through the smoke, they could hear a roar of "Sanctuary!", followed by a blinding flash and a howl of pain.

"Probably not." Ark muttered.

-----

"Come on!" Dariel Marron roared as he swung the blade of his Heaven's Gate through the air, blazing with white lightning. "Show me what you've got!"

_"With pleasure, human." _Balthazar growled, raising his ice-blue spear. _"Freeze Lancer!" _The air around him turned misty white as he charged forward, preparing to impale the Paladin.

"Not a chance!" he roared, his sword blazing. "Blizzard Charge…Spiral Slash Strike!" The Heaven's Gate glowed ice-blue with frigid energy; furiously, he drove it towards the great Balrog, bashing aside the spear and striking the armor with a gigantic crash.

"_Impressive, Paladin." _Balthazar stepped back slightly and holstered his spear. _"But let's see how you fare against an arcane arte…" _He thrust the tip of the spear into the ground. "Glacial Hammer!"

The ground ripped apart underneath Marron, threatening to impale him as gigantic spikes of ice rippled forth from the ground. He closed his eyes and called upon his abilities to suffuse him. "Inferno Charge…Dragon Fury!" He blew through the spikes like a hot knife through butter, flying towards the Balrog and bringing the blade down upon its head. Balthazar skidded backwards across the ground, slightly winded.

"_You…can use the abilities of a Dragon Knight…" _he breathed, slowly.

"So I can." Marron said, cutting through the air in a wide arc. "By those, you shall perish!" He raised his blade into the air, sparks flying from the heated edge and causing the blade to glow a phosphorescent white. "Tempest Requiem!"

Blades of superheated air ripped from the edge of his blade, the air currents around his sword commanded at the Paladin's whim. He charged forward and slammed the weapon into the Balrog, waves of flames impacting ferociously against the demon's ice-blue armor and causing it to reel slightly.

"_Foolish…human…" _Balthazar snarled, its eyes glaring ferociously at the Paladin. _"Do you honestly think…you can defeat me?" _The demon shouldered its spear, glittering with freezing energy, and charged. _"Brilliant Onslaught!"_

There were a series of loud cracks as the spear, blazing with ice-blue energy, arced through the air and impacted against the Paladin with several sickening cracks. Marron's armor was suddenly crisscrossed by a series of stab wounds, a matrix of crimson staining his ivory breastplate.

"Sh…Shit." he muttered thickly, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. The Balrog was standing above him, its spear raised and pointing at him. _"Die, Paladin."_

"N-Never!" he roared, seizing ahold of his sword and thrusting upwards. "Sanctuary!"

The area was filled with a burst of vicious light as a radiant burst of holy energy erupted from the holy warrior's blade, the arte striking its mark. Balthazar swore loudly in a language Marron did not understand, vicious spurts of fluid gushing from the wound, and disappeared, leaving the Paladin alone on the ground.

"Heh." Marron got up, slightly painfully, and cast a disdainful glance at the spot where the demon had once been. The three intruders were dead, or at least severely wounded, and wouldn't be coming back soon.

Unfortunately, that didn't make a difference; he cast a despairing glance over the burning plains of Elaesia.

"Better start now." He grunted, then raised his sword into the air. "Blizzard Charge!"

A cool mist emanated from the warrior's sword, creeping across the grounds and extinguishing the flames, leaving the charred ruins of the buildings in their wake.

-----

Ascion blinked through the smoke; indeed, the figure was advancing closer to them. Judging by its looks, he couldn't recognize it as anyone he knew.

"Stay back." he muttered to Iris out of the corner of his mouth. "This could be dangerous-"

"Do you think I don't know that?" she shot back. "I _care _about you too." She said the word in a kind of half-sarcastic, half-sincere tone.

Ascion rolled his eyes. "This is not the time for feelings. Go. Extinguish the flames, or else this place is going to burn down."

"All…all right." She teleported away, leaving the priest in her wake as he was left to confront the lone figure.

The figure spoke nothing as it advanced closer towards him; flipping through his mind, he read its mana signature. It wasn't demonic, unlike the previous three, but it definitely wasn't human; no doubt about that. There was something almost…ghostlike about it.

"Dispel!" he commanded, a bright burst of light filling the area, and in that frame of time, he saw the figure's face.

"No." he gasped, his hand falling limply to his side. "It can't be…not here…"

"Thunder Spear!" the figure commanded, a long shaft of lightning materializing in its hand, and it suddenly charged towards him.

"Magic Guard!" The spear hit Ascion's guard with a small explosion, creating a shower of sparks; he leapt back and dodged the slashes with surprising dexterity as he twirled through the air.

"Prism Lancer!" he commanded, a javelin of light appearing in his gloved hand, and swinging it towards the figure. Their spears interlocked in a shower of sparks, allowing Ascion to see the face clearly once more.

"Grace…" he uttered softly. "It can't be you."

"Who says it isn't?" she replied, her voice emotionless in the night. "I'm sorry, Ascion, but you are going to die, along with everyone else in Elaesia."

"Grace, I don't know what's happened to you…" He stepped back, his eyes flashing in the night. "But I can't let you do that." He raised his hand and thrust it towards her figure. "Shining Ray!"

"Bastion!" she commanded, the light bursting harmlessly against her guard. She turned for a second towards him, her eyes flashing dangerously, then commanded, "Teleport!" and disappeared with a flash.

"Shit!" Ascion swore, attempting to track her mana signature, but as he found, it was like trying to grab at a polished stone coated with oil- she kept slipping away from him. Her location was eventually confirmed when he heard a roar of "Lightning Tempest!" and a gigantic explosion some meters off into the distance.

Ascion reached into his pocket and drew out a blue stone, illuminated in the flames. He closed his fingers over the cool stone. "Summon Dragon!" The great weyr materialized in front of him again, pawing the ground sedately. He mounted it and flew into the air, his sharp eyes searching for his target.

"Éclair de Larmes!" he roared, aiming his outstretched palms at the ground. A cross appeared underneath Grace, followed by a pillar of light shooting in the air; his gaze was interrupted by a roar of "Cold Beam!" and a bolt of blue shooting inches away from his face.

"Crap." he muttered, raising his arms. "Holy Arrow!" He launched a line of searing projectiles at the burning earth, but there was no sign that he had hit his mark. Swearing, he landed the dragon on the ground and cast his gaze around the landscape for the mage.

Then, he heard a shout of "Ice Strike!" and felt something collide into him with the force of a raging bull; he gasped for breath, stars winking in his eyes, and looked up to see Grace towering above him.

"Die, Ascion Blade." she uttered coldly, as she prepared to cast his death arte.

It never came; there was a roar of "Angel Pyre!" as a bolt of brilliant lightning ripped from the ground and threw Grace into the air; she landed on her feet and looked around wildly for the caster, her hair rippling eerily in the wind.

Ark and Iris came rushing from the side, their weapons drawn. "Ascion?!" Ark roared. "Who the hell is-"

"Grace." Ascion muttered thickly, before collapsing.

"Shit!" Ark raised his axe and leaped in front of Ascion, pointing the blade of the weapon at Grace. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you're going to die now!" He raised the blade into the air. "Sovereign Gale!"

The blade rushed at Grace only to be stopped by a swift cry of "Magic Guard!"; there was a roar of "Thunder Spear!" from Iris as a bolt of lightning hurtled at her, flowing off her guard.

"Die." Grace uttered, her hand glowing with energy. "Absolute."

There was a loud explosion as a burst of icy steam erupted from the ground before catching Ark and Iris in a gigantic explosion of ice; both staggered to the ground, crisscrossed by a series of cuts and bruises. A bubble of blood formed at Ark's mouth and burst. "D-Damn. She's strong…"

"I…" Iris staggered to her feet. "We…have to stop her." She coughed and raised her staff. "Thunder Spear!" A bolt of lightning formed in her hand, which she flung at Grace; but for all the effect it had, she might as well have thrown a toothpick. The shaft of energy crackled against Grace's magic guard before dissipating harmlessly.

She raised her arm, preparing to strike, when a sudden bolt of light flashed past her, striking her in the arm; she doubled up and whipped around.

"Ascion!" both managed to stammer.

"Shut up. You're hurt." the priest said flatly. He raised his palm and uttered, "Heal." Both Ark and Iris sighed in relief as their wounds healed; Ascion raised his hands and closed his eyes. "Guard me."

"Y-yes, of course." Both closed their eyes in preparation to cast an arte, magic glowing at their fingertips.

"Angel Pyre!"

"Ice Strike!"

Bolts of lightning ripped from the ground as gigantic spikes of ice hurtld at Grace; she narrowly managed to dodge them as she turned around to cast a spell of her own. "Abso-"

"Dragon Fury!" Ark and Iris turned to see Marron hurtling at them, his blade raised. The attack sent Grace flying off her feet as she turned to face the Paladin. "Ice Strike!"

WIthout pausing, Marron raised his blade and swung it in a wide arc. "Inferno Charge!" A bolt of sudden heat vaporized the gigantic spikes of ice harmlessly, steam rising into the air.

"_Spirits of the heavens, I command thee to lend me thy power! Purge the land of this enemy and send them to rest in the afterlife! Heavenlapse!"_

The ground shook as Ascion unleashed his ultimate arte; a holy glyph appeared in the sky as energy began to gather at its core. With an earth-shaking crash, a torrent of holy lightning burst forth from the sky, enveloping Grace in its wake.

Grace shuddered as the lightning pierced through her; she staggered upon the ground, but as Ark and Marron dashed forward to finish her off, she closed her eyes, muttered something indecipherable, and disappeared.

"What the hell?!"

"Where did she go?!"

"She has to be here somewhere!"

"Search for her at once!"

-----

The blizzard winds blew fiercely through the Snowfield as a lone figure staggered through the cavern, her clothes covered with burn and slash marks.

"Please…" she uttered, her voice lost to the wind. "Someone…help me. Save me." Her hair fluttered about her as she called, but there was no one to hear her cries, save for a wandering hungry werewolf.

It lumbered over to her, its claw raised, as it prepared to feast. She did not even blink as it crawled towards her, but spread her arms out towards it, as though welcoming it.

"Take me…" she whispered, softly. "Save me…from the sin I am. Kill me once and for all."

The werewolf snorted, oblivious to her words, and swiped its great claw through her prone body.

However, nothing happened; three gigantic claw marks appeared on her body, but no blood fell from her wounds…as she gazed in horror, the wounds slowly shimmered before closing up, leaving her spectral skin as flawless as it had once been.

"Argh!" Her voice rose to the wind, a lone cry of despair and desperation; she raised her arm and swung it through the air. There was a brilliant burst of lightning and a howl as the body of the werewolf slumped to the ground, the snow around it turning crimson. _"Why…can't…I…just…die?!"_

There was no answer to her question, save for the wind that echoed in her ears. Tears fell from her face, but they were not water; they were shining stars that twinkled in the snow before disappearing in a flash.

"Please…" she uttered, no one to hear her except the accursed wind. "I want to die…I don't deserve to exist." She slumped forward in the snow. "My life has been nothing except torture; I have killed countless people in another's name. Why can't I share their fate?"

There was no answer save for the blizzard winds that rained frigid snow about her; no one to release her from her eternal fetters. She sobbed- how she _wished _that she could go back in time and undo everything she'd done, to release herself from the path she'd took- but it was too late.

"Phoenix…" she moaned, tears of starlight falling from her pearly eyes and grazing the frozen ground. "Save me…"

Grace's cries pierced through the night as the pain coursed through her body and granted her an everlasting torture for her sins.

Not even Ossyria's cruel bed of snow would offer to be her escape.

-----

Two things that should probably be cleared up:

1.) Gault is NOT gay for Phoenix. I know it must sound like that, what with his constant neurotic rambling and all, but trust me. He is _not. _Why he thinks so much about Zer will be revealed sometime late-story. (As will everything else.)

2.) I swear on the Bible-for-Fanfiction-Authors-And-Everything-Else, I did NOT plagiarize Presea's past for Arklanser. Trust me on this as well. I absolutely did not think of Presea until I finished writing the chapter, and I was like, "Oh _shit." _But I'm taking a flight back to the USA in an hour and I really didn't have time to rewrite the chapter, so bear with me. Their pasts are only similar if you squint.

Thank you very much, and REVIEWZORZ!!!!

-Kal


	16. Incubus

**Chapter 14**

_Warning: This is the longest author's note I've written so far (five pages), thanks to certain reviews and personal events. Skip it if you're so inclined._

* * *

_(Edit: This is not an update. Sorry to burst your bubbles. I only reuploaded this chapter because after re-reading it, I caught too many spelling mistakes to ignore, and I also did some editing. Plus, thanks to the wonderful efficiency of FF's servers, Story Alert crashed, so I'm giving this story another update just in case some people missed it the first time around.)_

Hello, everyone. Real sorry for taking the impromptu week-long hiatus (which is actually shorter than those of authors that write stories ten times shorter than mine, but whatever), but personal problems and total lack of inspiration killed off my writing for a while.

If you want to get to know me on a personal note, I had a bad habit of skipping homework and study time to write this story and having to quickly scribble down yesterday's geometry proofs and history essays on a napkin from lunch. But hey- it's all for the readers, right? Nothing's too good for them, even you sacrificing two or three hours of sleep to try and think of one decent idea.

Needless to say, my teachers (and parents, eventually) were less than thrilled by this. As time slowly wore on from February to April, it became obvious that the level of my homework was falling, my test grades were falling, and my school morale was simply at an all-time low. However, I ignored these warning signs, continuing to scribble out pages and pages of whatever just to get another review or two.

It's hard to say, but I think the defining clue that I was slowly going work-insane was when asked to give an example of imagery on a _Lord of the Flies _test, I wrote down "Kids gang-raping a pig with spears."

That in itself would have been bad enough, but I later realized that due to my procrastinating on a major research paper that conveniently ended up comprising a third of my final grade, in addition to a chronic habit of not doing geometry homework, pushed my English and Geometry averages into the red zone (and when I say 'red' zone, I actually mean 'light orange-yellow zone of no real significance', but we're talking Asian stereotyping here, remember.)

I don't know what you all have to say on the subject, but I knew something was simply screwed up in my life.

I can't quite describe the feeling of those phases of my life, what have you, but it's like going to a wild party and having a literal cocktail of meth, marijuana, alcohol, and someone else's feces (not that I've done that, though- take my word for it) and suddenly waking up in the emergency room. Quite frankly, apart from feverishly writing and deleting and listening to the riot acts of various teachers, I can't pull anything out from the sludge that these past months have become.

I'm not writing this as something to make you feel guilty and review- far from it. The whole time, I had been operating as a review freak- I wrote simply for the sake of having other people worship me. So much to the point that I forgot why I even joined this site in the first place- not to chafe under stupid admins' screwed up authority and post chapters like zombies, but to expand my imagination and creativity. So much to the point that I didn't realize there was more to life.

Before this becomes a whole emowangst rant about how I've wasted my life and so on, let me reassure you that I am not quitting this story. I've merely gained a new lease in life (so to speak- overused line, but it works in this context) and I've learned to keep a delicate balance between life and fiction, and learned that there are better things in life than writing a paragraph and deleting it 5 times because it didn't sound quite right over and over again.

Thank you very much for listening to my rant. I wanted to reply to all the reviews that I hadn't covered in Cranes (which you should read and review if you haven't done so- ahem), but I've restrained myself from doing so. However, there were three that I simply couldn't resist doing, simply because of their value.

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"_Great chapter! Hope Grace get's alright the next chapter... were the mana pools and Meteon E'traia from The Iliad of Bera? Seems sort of familiar to me...  
P.S. Does the mana pool have at least 400kn of manaic force for Iggy?"_

THANK YOU. At least ONE person noticed that. Yes, all that crap has been pulled from my old shitfic The Iliad of Bera (which was about some bowman who was chosen to save the world along with three other champions, unknowingly fell in love with his sister, and had to kill his brother. Well, that's what it seemed like, anyway.), as well as more. A few names should also be familiar if you've been unfortunate enough to read that story (such as Joseph/Valter Stalrigarde, Dariel Marron, and Reneas Aries).

About that certain line…yeah. I meant that as a somewhat innocuous line with no real meaning, but now that you've brought it up… Truth to say, I didn't even want to write this page of lengthy discourse, but I'm tired of being a lazy bum and chickening out on description, so let this make up for it. (Plus, now no one can accuse me of plot-holing.)

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**A Brief Treatise on Mana Theory**

_Note: This is not essential to understanding the story. I tried to simplify it as much as possible, but if you're bored, go knock yourself out._

The world of Bera operates on a power, or force, known as mana. This mana, as it is called controls everything; all life operates upon mana and everything is composed of mana in a physical form. Mana is the source of all magic, whether arcane, elemental, physical, or any other type; when one uses a spell/arte, mana is harnessed at the user's whim and can be used to attack, regenerate, heal, displace, summon, you name it. When using mana, however, one must be careful; there is a limit to how much mana one can channel through one's body at one time. Some people's limits are higher than others. If you exceed this limit, well…it's kinda obvious what happens next.

Kn is an abbreviation for kairn (not Kelvin, that's temperature). A kairn is a unit of measure for manaic force; when a spell is used, a certain amount of stamina is needed to manipulate the mana; in other words, to pull it from the environment and get it to do what you want it to do. The kairn system was first devised by the elves (as was everything else).

The principle of kairns works like this; The more mana particles you want to use, the more stamina is required to use each individual particle. Sounds simple, but it's not. It's like buying candy for a cent each, but when you buy two, they cost two cents each, and so on. Same principle; for each kairn, the energy cost required to cast the spell increases by two percent. So in other words, a spell/arte that requires 200 kn of manaic force would require about 7.2 times the energy of a 100 kn spell. Likewise, a 300 kn spell requires about 7.2 times the energy of a 200 kn spell, and about 52.4 times the energy of the 100 kn spell. As you can see, the amount of energy required to cast spells increases at an exponential rate, making it extremely difficult to cast a spell over 400 kn.

The principle of mana burn, or "Final Attack" as it is called, works somewhat differently. When a spell is cast, the stamina expended is released in the form of unstable mana particles; an unstable mana particle, as you may suspect, can be controlled and used to great effect, but requires much more energy to use. While the energy usage increases 2 percent with each kairn with stable mana, with unstable mana, the energy usage rate is doubled to 4 percent. It might not seem like a lot, but instead of increasing at a factor of 7.2 per 100 kn, the energy cost becomes about 50.5 per 100 kn, which is why Final Attack is so difficult, if not virtually impossible, to master, especially with a bowman's abilities (since their techniques use more mana than warriors'.)

As a rule, first-class attacks such as Magic Bolt and Magic Claw require about 100 kn of manaic force, second-class attacks like Fire Arrow, Thunderbolt and so on require about 200 kn, third-class abilities such as Explosion, Thunder Spear, etc., require 300 kn, and so on. Heavenlapse, one of the most powerful artes in existence, requires about 500 kn to perform; Dark Reprisal requires about 450. (How Gault manages to do it without getting his head blown off will be discussed late-story.)

As a side note, most third-class mages have a mana tolerance of about 350-400 kn; the Devil Children have 400-450. (At the time of Tourniquet, their proficiency was only about 300-350 kn, which is a probable reason why Iggy declined to use it. However, the more likely probability was that the high level of mana usage would end up forcibly displacing the demon and cause irreparable damage, if not death; this, unfortunately, turned out to be the case with all the possible solutions they found.)

A mana pool is a large, often infinite source of mana particles, which is why it is a good spot for magicians and others to practice casting artes. However, despite the amount of mana particles that are there, you still have to be able to control the mana without blowing your brains out, which is why having a mana pool around wouldn't have helped much in that situation.

I hope that clears a few things up (or makes them even more confusing. Whichever floats your boat), and I hope I haven't overused the word "mana" to the point of making you want to commit suicide.

-Kal

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"_that was a nice chapter.  
I think that Gault is Zer's dad but thats me.  
XP"_

I always knew I would get a review like this one day.

Yes, all the evidence and storylines so far do hint strongly at Gault being Zeraion's father (and likely resulting in a cliché Star Wars-esque ending). However, there is one little detail that I suggest you consider:

If you read the early chapters carefully and compare ages, a conversation between Tales and Phoenix reveals that Tales and Gault are the same age, 19, and Zeraion is 15 when he first joins The Uprising/Resistance. If you then apply some complicated trig functions, algebra, and calculus, you should be able to deduce that Gault is only fouryears older than Zeraion.

Unless there's some kind of method that I don't know of (and I don't want to know), I think it's pretty darn difficult to have kids when you're four.

Sorry for spoiling your theorizing, but that just had to be known.

-Kal

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"_ZOMG pleasepleasepleaseplease stop writting your a horrible writter you sux SSO BAD GAWD! 0 You suck at writting and life you losa --"_

I'm going to allow you to read that a couple times so you can prepare yourself for my wonderful reply.

Over the course of this story, there have been 163 reviews so far (well, 162, seeing as how one of them was mine). In a story like this, you're bound to get yourself a jackass or two.

Rhythmic (the King of Bitches mentioned in an earlier crack chapter) was one, but his comments, as badly-presented and hashed as they may be, are supported with reasons, which is why I respect him for that. (I wrote the long rant because reason, however, eluded me.)

This, as you can see, is completely different.

I don't know about the rest of you, but when I read this, I laughed. Out loud. And I can tell you that in the 162(1) other reviews I've received so far, none have really made me laugh- an occasional chuckle every now and then, but not this. This was like a ray of sunshine in the deep gloomy cloud that was my life (read the author's note above if you haven't got the idea.)

This is just wonderful. It's so nice that some random anonymous person cares enough to express his opinions on my work, that being that I suck at 'writting' and life. From what you've read in the above paragraphs, we don't need some anonymous bag of monkey feces to tell us the latter. However, I think it's a bit hypocritical to tell someone they suck at writing when they can't even spell the word.

Although I'm no Freud, from reading this review I can theorize that:

1.) This person must be the same person (if not related) who left the first review of The Red Eyed Monster, seeing as how they have the same spelling ability (or lack thereof).

1.5) I Googled 'writting', 'sux', and 'losa' until my mind bruised, but the all-knowing internetz just refused to provide me with a definition. Therefore, we can surmise that this person was either exposed to astatine at a young age, or is an intergalactic espionage agent attempting to communicate by means of a language unknown to mankind. (No word on why a lowly fanfiction author was chosen to be the liaison representing the human race, though.)

2.) This person obviously needs to get laid. Big time.

3.) An interesting note: If my writing "sux", then why on earth did this person read through all 15 chapters of the story to leave a review? Fuckin' hypocrite.

The things I could say on this subject could provide material for an entire encyclopedia, but I really won't bother- I have better things to do with my time than chastise spineless bags of excrement. Really, however, I must thank the flamer for lifting me out of my depressing slump and making me happy- you should all thank him. (Of course, in an effort to be non-sexist, we mustn't leave out the distinct possibility that the flamer is female- after all, hell hath no fury…) Kinda makes me wonder why I don't get more of those these days.

As someone elegantly put it, "The cream rises to the top. So does the scum." Well, I should rest better knowing that some inbred tranny wants to write his/her name in piss all over my work. Good for them. Hell, if someone's willing to go that far and show me how much they care, then I'm willing to accept that as a compliment at face value.

If anyone else out there wants to tell me how they _really _feel about my work, then go ahead- I'll just take whatever half-assed insult you've got and fling it back at you, along with a couple of nuclear grenades. (Constructive criticism is fine; I can peacefully and humbly accept you saying my story sucks poo if you give a semi-decent reason _why. _Obviously, this person didn't, which is why he/she has to incur my wrath.)

To all wannabe flamers: Try all you want, copy-paste whatever "I did your mom last night" variations you can think of into your review, but you will not win.

You. Will. _Not. Win._

Period.

-Kal

_AN: Sorry for this long rant, but I just had to get this out of my system- kinda like after you eat four Burrito Supremes in a row at Taco Bell._

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Now, on a more serious (ahem) note, Kal Ancalas Productions is currently in a state of crisis. Our not-so-intelligent intelligence department has managed to obtain probable proof that my _parents _have been reading this story. Yes, my parents, ancient people who don't know what a Nintendo is, much less a Korean import MMORPG, are reading this story.

That is just…_ew. _It's like finding out your significant other has been cheating on you- MapleStory, and especially _my _precious fic based on it, should be kept free of parental contamination. They just don't mix. Even now, I'm just retching at the thought. I'm pretty sure my parents wouldn't want me going through their stuff, so why should they? That is just _freaking disgusting. God. _I might have to change my penname and the title just to get away from them. And I will have to get my revenge. Maybe searching through my dad's email and digging up a few juicy tidbits would be nice…

Ugh. Anyway, I just had to share that info with the world because it makes me freakin' _pissed. _You can't imagine. If my parents really _are _reading this, then I hope they take the hint and get the hell away from this story like a porcupine at a balloon convention. To aforementioned parents, I know you care about me, and I appreciate that, but please understand this: You have your life- I have mine.

Lastly, I appreciate that everyone at Sleepywood is running off here and reading the story in its entirety instead of being patient and waiting for it to come out, but please. That doesn't change anything- you still have to review, ya freeloaders. Reviews equal inspiration; inspiration equals updates. Ever heard of the Transitive Property?

Now, just sit back and pretend to enjoy the story.

-Kal

-----

"Get the auxiliary supply of healing draughts out…"

"Right."

"Have this pile of rubble cleared at once, it's getting in everyone's way…"

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel…"

"Have you seen the mana elixir pills anywhere?"

"Yeah, they should be in the back room, if it hasn't exploded…"

"Gotcha."

"If you apply pressure to the arm, that should help stem the bleeding…"

"Thanks, Brigadier General."

"All right." Brigadier General Ascion Blade turned up from his work to see Colonel Luke Sinclaire staring off into the distance. "Sinclaire. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." the ranger muttered, his gaze whipping back to the priest. "Where are those auxiliary healing draughts again? I'll go get them-"

"Stop." Ascion laid a hand on the ranger's shoulder. "I've already sent someone to get them. Is something wrong? You look troubled…even for an officer." he added in a slightly foreboding voice.

"No, Brigadier General." He directed a stabbing glare towards the ground, which Ascion noted darkly, before returning his gaze upwards. "It's just…I'm worried about the extent of the damage. Good thing you and some of the others were able to stop them."

"Yeah." He caught the look on the colonel's face. "Okay, who is it?"

"What the hell?!" Sinclaire's face turned the color of the flames around him. "Why is everyone on my case these days?!"

"Because you're the only one with a case to get on." Ascion replied smoothly.

Sinclaire chose to ignore the remark. "Whatever. If you must know, I was worried about Delly- I mean, Arklanser." he added hastily.

Ascion raised an eyebrow, but out of respect declined to say anything. "I doubt she's hurt. Most of the damage was done to my division's ward, and anyway, she's the sort of person that doesn't die easily." He tried to smile, but his expression failed in the midst of the destruction about them.

The corner of Sinclaire's lips forced themselves upwards. "Whatever. Thanks, Brigadier General." He turned his back on the priest and muttered an excuse about going off to fetch some healing items, even as a crate of them was delivered at their feet.

Ascion's eyes watched him leave silently. Of course, he himself knew nothing about love, being only almost sixteen, but Iris…He pushed the thought out of his mind as the tall figure of Ark Wolfen neared him, a bloodstained axe over his shoulder.

"Hey, Ascion." He touched his brother's shoulder. "They need you down there over by Delta wing…or, I should say, the smoldering pile of rubble formerly known as Delta wing." He chuckled humorlessly. "Joe says he could repair the place easily with alchemy, if there was more than one alchemist in Bera."

"You're a riot." Ascion kneaded his knuckles across his forehead, sweat and blood running down in dark rivulets. "I could probably devise a wide-range gravity arte or something for that…"

"Maybe you should go cook up a new healing arte instead." Ark noted grimly, casting his eyes across the scorching landscape.

"Been there, done that." Ascion returned his brother's look with a dry stare of his own.

There was a sudden noise behind both siblings, who turned to see the tall, billowing figure of Athena Pierce silently regarding the burnt grounds of Elaesia with hawk-like eyes.

"Athena!" both priest and crusader yelped, their hands shooting to their foreheads in a hurried salute. The bowmistress gave no reply except a nod that was barely visible in the smoke.

"I…" She seemed to be speaking more to herself than anyone else. "It seems that I now have much more work to do…"

With a swish of her long gown, she seemingly melted into the smoke, her footsteps rising upon the air until they were no longer audible.

"What's with her?" Ark muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Ascion did not answer as his eyes rose to meet the ashes of what had once been Victoria Island's last hope against Gault.

-----

"_Damn…that…priest!" _a great armor-clad Balrog roared furiously, pacing up and down the halls of Meteon E'traia. A flame-enchanted blade was clutched in the great depths of his claw. _"I would so very enjoy sending him to the fires of purgatory!" _He swung the flaming brand through the air, sending out a wave of steam that caused the air to ripple like a tidal wave.

"_Yes. His brother and the son of Dracon were very troublesome too." _another growled, clutching a lightning-glittering axe, crackling menacingly in the air.

The last, a gigantic demon shouldering a blizzard-blue spear, said nothing, save for occasional murmurs of _"Paladin…"_

"Come now, don't be so dismal." Gault Isentryx said calmly, as though he was discussing the weather. "You three did very well, given the circumstances…"

The Balrogs shot glances at him, and would have made a retort if not for the fact that they were scared bloodless of him. Well, Omega Balrogs don't even have blood, but that's aside the point. Finally, Balthazar mustered the courage to say, rather demurely, _"Thank you."_

"You're welcome." the dark bowman replied. His voice was poisoned honey. "I hope you three have recovered from your scratches in that earlier skirmish."

The Balrogs exchanged sharp glances; finally, Melchior spoke. _"Even without Zeraion Phoenix and Rathias Gardner, they are still not to be underestimated."_

"I know that, you silly fool." Gault calmly flicked his fingers in midair; the Balrogs winced as though they expected dark magic to be shooting out of his palms at any moment. "Soon, the time will come. After all, it is written in the Judgment." He smiled darkly.

The demons declined to reply as Gault went on. "In time, I assure you, you shall feast, but not tonight." His eyes narrowed slightly, his eyebrows slivers of silver in the halls of the crystal city. "By the way, I would like to know…" His voice became slightly caustic. "Where is Grace?"

_"Who?"_

"The girl that tagged along with you three. You haven't seen her running about anywhere, I hope?"

_"No, milord."_

"Here." The figure of a tall woman became visible through the ice-blue walls of Meteon E'traia; Gault tilted his head a fraction of an inch upwards. "There you are. Where have you been? I was about to send these three after you."

"My apologies." Grace gave a quick cross between a bow and a curtsy. "I needed some time to recover after the incident at Elaesia. Being hit with approximately 550 kn of manaic force does tire one out."

"Ah." Gault gave a rare smile. "Even now, you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"What?"

"Nothing." He laid a hand gently on her shoulder; she looked up into his eyes. They were pearls of black, with even darker lightning dancing in the shadows of his pupils.

"Take care of yourself, Raizen." he murmured, finally breaking the gaze. "Don't forget where your loyalties lie…" Slowly, he turned away from her and walked out of the hall, the three hulking Balrogs following after him.

Grace's expression did not show the faintest trace of emotion as she watched him leave. "I won't."

-----

Rathias Gardner's eyes snapped wide open.

"Gardner?" Zeraion Phoenix turned from his seat upon a smooth stone to eye the bowmaster. "Is something wrong?"

He expected a mild reply from his teacher, but instead received a sharp "Yes."

Zeraion blinked, somewhat startled at the change in Gardner's usually placid mood. "What?"

"It's nothing that concerns you. If you must know, however…" His eyes flickered to the sky before returning to the ground. "I could detect a slight disturbance in the mana currents. That is strange, since anomalies usually do not occur in the Isle, not when it is so isolated from human interference…" He ended the foreboding thought by returning to the familiar calm visage that usually made up his expression.

"Do you think something's happened in Ossyria? Or maybe Victoria?" the ranger asked worriedly.

"Most likely Ossyria." Gardner murmured. "Victoria is much too far away for a disturbance to reach these blessed shores…unless…" His expression faltered slightly, something that worried Zeraion more than ever.

"Unless what?" The ranger shrugged and turned his gaze back to the trees. "I didn't really feel anything, anyway…Maybe it was just a cricket that landed on your shoulder."

Gardner smiled dryly. "I will have you know, Zeraion, that just because I am not an archmage does not mean I am any less skilled with mana manipulation than one. Besides…" His eyes closed once more in a serene state of quiet. "Crickets, at least the ones on this island, are nocturnal."

Zeraion glanced up at the sun before darkly muttering something that sounded like "…don't know why I talk to you…"

The bowmaster smiled calmly, but inside his mind, he was extremely troubled- he knew perfectly well that that had not been a cricket, nor an insect of any other species from several years of meditation and harsh training.

Something had definitely happened in Elaesia.

"Phoenix." he murmured, clapping his hands; the ranger opened his eyes as though from a deep sleep. "Did you feel anything yet?"

"No." Zeraion yawned and stretched his arms. "Except a huge itch."

The bowmaster smirked. "No matter. Some people are more susceptible to mana currents than others; I suppose we will just have to be patient in your case."

"Yeah, well…" Zeraion stared into the sky. "I'm trying as hard as I can. I know that Elaesia depends on my efforts."

Gardner did not reply. "Be that as it may, there are some things we can rush, and some we cannot. This is one of those times when we cannot. However…" He gave him a serious glance. "We should make the best of the time we have. Bring out your bow, and we will work on your fusion artes."

"Yeah." Zeraion brought out the Abyssal Arund and neatly strung it. "What are we going to work on?"

"Let me see what you can do for the moment." he replied.

"All right." He raised the shining weapon to the air, its onyx-colored limbs glinting in the sun, and pulled the string back, a bolt of light gathering in his hands. "Inferno Strafe!"

The bolt of energy flung itself through the air before splitting into four red-hot rays, brighter than the sun, and driving themselves through the ground. Bushes and grass went up in flame as the mana particles fused, creating brilliance and heat that Zeraion had never seen before.

"Whoa." Zeraion let the bow fall to his side and surveyed the burnt area with an impressed air. "How did that happen? I've never been able to do that before…and I don't even feel tired. Usually, I feel like I just ran a mile…"

Gardner unsheathed his own weapon, its dragon-head limbs radiating an eerily powerful air that made Zeraion feel slightly insignificant. "I suppose it could be the effects of the waterfall. Because of the abundant presence of the mana particles, you exert less strain in having to gather them into an attack. That does not mean, however, that you should overexert yourself. There is no shortcut to mastering a fusion arte- or any magic, for that matter."

"So, I should practice more, right?" Zeraion bit his lip.

Gardner returned his student's look with an amused expression of his own. "Yes, Zeraion, you should. There is a clearing some distance in the woods where you may practice to your heart's content; you will recognize the idol of Selena Pieralasca."

"Who?"

"Athena's great-grandmother…and the original bowmistress of the Final Four." Gardner raised an eyebrow. "Athena told me I would have to work very hard on your training, but I never expected that would include a history lesson."

Zeraion felt his cheeks burn red as Athos thrummed in amusement; he immediately turned on his heel and stomped into the forest, determined to burn down at least one tree to relieve his temper.

Suddenly, a flash of bright gold caught his attention and he looked up, just in time to catch the sound of footsteps on the forest floor and a few tresses of golden hair disappearing behind a tree.

_I thought this island was uninhabited! _

"Wait!" he called, his voice echoing across the trees, but there was no answer, save for the gentle wind whispering in his ears.

-----

In a land ravaged by war, it sometimes seemed that Florina Beach was the only spot where one could grab a spot of peace and sunshine.

The palm fronds fluttered softly in the wind as small waves broke upon the sandy shores of the beach, the edge of the cool ocean lapping at the relaxing girls' toes. Lorangs and Lupins skittered across the golden dunes as a gentle sea breeze swept through the area.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Natalia Arundale finally sighed.

Delinia Arklanser, lying next to her, made no reply except a quiet nod.

"I wish Rysdale and Iggy were here to see this." the orange-brown haired ranger said, stretching her legs out on the sand. A small wave of sea swept at the edge of her feet.

Arklanser gave a shrug on the sand. "They probably wouldn't care. They're off in Ellinia studying arcane artes." She shook her head so that her flame-red hair danced upon the sand. "Men. Can you believe them?"

"Hm." Arundale giggled softly. "It's really nice that I can spend some time together with you like this. As a friend."

"I haven't had much time for friendships these days, you know." her companion mused darkly.

"Whatever." She relaxed on the sand, brushing hair out of her eyes. "I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

"The fact that you followed me against my will and nearly got yourself killed?" Arklanser replied rather bluntly.

"I-" Arundale's cheeks turned faint pink. "Do you have to put it like that?"

"Look." she said, and Arundale was surprised to feel a warm hand on her shoulder. "I don't blame you. If it had been you in the forest…" She sighed deeply as though she was saying something against her better judgment. "I would have done the same thing."

Natalia blinked. "You…you would have?"

"Yes, I would have." She sighed and closed her eyes, her hand slipping away. "There's a lot of things I haven't told you, Natalia, and I probably won't ever tell them to you. But…" She exhaled. "I am very grateful for your friendship. I want you to know that."

"It's nice to see you have a heart underneath…all that." Arundale held herself back before she used a word she knew she would regret.

"It doesn't matter." The flame-haired rangeress allowed herself a small smile. "You're probably the only one I would ever let use that word without having to creatively and painfully kill them."

Arundale smiled grimly. "Every time you try to make a joke, it always involves someone dying a violent death."

"Is that a bad thing?"

This sent Natalia into a light chuckle- but it was humorless, as dark and as empty as the heart of the woman sitting next to her.

She cared deeply about her- she cared deeply about all of them, Rysdale, Iggy, and Delinia, and she wanted only to save her friends, to release them from the dark existence that she herself lived.

She couldn't possibly save herself- ironically, the greatest problem in her case _was _herself- but if it was possible, to ease just a bit of the endless pain that they had to suffer, then she would do anything- _anything- _to see that happen.

She relaxed against the warm sand of Florina Beach, an occasional strand of Delinia's hair fluttering into her face.

-----

"The place looks a mess, doesn't it?"

With as much patience as she would muster, Athena brushed a clump of sweaty hair out of her eyes and gave the dark-tanned leader of the warriors a steely glare. "At the moment, I believe the word _mess _would be an understatement."

"Right you are, Athena." Keiga Seles calmly examined his dragon-maw gloves as he sat at the table of Elaesian headquarters. "I wonder if it wasn't a mistake to send Rathias and Phoenix to the Isle of Ascension. Isentryx may have used that to his advantage-"

"I see your point, Seles." Athena said, turning to the auburn-haired Dark Knight. "However, the fact stands that Zeraion is our only hope against Gault." She sighed, turning her sky-gray eyes to the window. "We must not forget the Judgment."

"How can you be so sure about that?" Dark Lord cut in. "How do we know that this isn't just another phase- another cycle of the prophecy? For all we know, Zeraion, Ryden, and the rest could just be martyrs in this age to give rise to another bunch of idiots, and so on, and so on…" He twirled a kunai in the air to accentuate his point.

Athena's iron gaze shifted from Seles to the thief leader. "I will have you know full well that they are not idiots. Razier was severely weakened by Asthathos and his companions the past century, and I have full confidence that Zeraion and the other Divine Children will triumph over the demon once and for all and fulfill the Judgment…even if sacrifices must be made." she ended, her voice breaking slightly.

"Wait." Seles tapped his knuckles against the table, causing some people to jump. "You say that the enemy here is Razier, the great demon of eld. Yet I believe Elaesia was founded to resist Gault Isentryx. Just tell me, who exactly are we fighting?"

Athena's eyes seemed to dilate as she stared at the Dark Knight. "I had not wished to divulge my greatest fear…but it seems I have no choice." She took a deep breath and stared out at her audience, her gaze deadly serious.

"I did not want to believe it, at any cost…" she uttered, her hands scraping the table, "but it seems we have no choice but to assume the worst. We may have to fight them…together."

There was a dark silence that resounded across the table, broken only by the uncomfortable scraping of chairs.

"So." Sitting Bull's voice cut through the air. "What do you propose to do about this?"

"All talk and no action, aren't you?" Grendel chided.

The warrior leader merely looked contemptuous.

"In any case, should we lift the restriction that bounds Sleepywood?" Seles asked. "I would suggest that gathering more information on Isentryx's forces would be a good place to start."

The wisemen exchanged dubious glances. "Keiga, do you honestly think sending more scouts to get their brains blown out would be a good idea?" Sitting Bull asked somewhat rhetorically. "You saw what happened to those two thieves…"

"I don't." Seles said calmly, refusing to look his former instructor in the eye. "However, intelligence operations…as well as impromptu assaults," he added darkly, looking out the window, "are a pivotal part of any war. In this case, it is vital that we conduct a covert operation of sorts…with slightly more experienced agents than those unfortunate rogues."

"Who would you suggest sending?"

Seles finally turned his eyes towards the chieftain. "How about my son…and his companions?"

There was no reply to this cold statement.

-----

"Power Strike!"

The blade of the great axe cut through the air effortlessly, driving towards its target before impacting against the edge of a great silver blade, its length glinting in the sun.

"Lightning Charge…Panic!"

With an almighty grinding noise, the blade of the sword wrenched aside the axe before hurtling back in a comet of blue energy, its charged edge cutting through the air with a series of explosive cracks.

"Power Guard!"

The axe came upwards to guard against the strength of the arcane strike, a furious storm of blue-white sparks whipping through the air as both warriors struggled and grunted to overpower the other's strength.

"Stance!"

With a final crash of metal against metal, the axe flew through the air as its owner was driven back in an explosive impact. Dariel Marron smiled ruefully as he shouldered his blade, watching Ark Wolfen tumble noisily against the ground.

"Ten to one, Wolfen." Marron said, sheathing his Heaven's Gate.

"You know…" Ark staggered to his feet and spit out a wad of grass and caked earth. "You were a lot less annoying before you became a Paladin."

Marron brushed aside the insult. "You haven't changed either, Wolfie."

Ark would have delivered a very powerful Angel Pyre in Marron's general direction if not for the hasty intervention of Ryden. "Hope Ark hasn't tired you out too much, Dariel." he said, drawing his katana.

Marron only chuckled amusedly in response, hefting his sword. "Bring it on, then."

Before the duel could start, however, they were interrupted by the appearance of a white knight, clad in dark armor and wielding a giant hammer. "Major General…Colonel…Lieutenant Colonel." he said, addressing all three warriors in short order. "Athena requested your presence."

Marron's mouth tightened visibly. "What do they want?" he asked flatly.

"It's classified." the knight responded bluntly, ending the discussion.

"What was that all about?" Ark asked, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I have no idea, but I guess we're going to find out." the Paladin shrugged.

They found out soon enough; when they entered Athena's room, the tall figure of Keiga Seles greeted them. His gaze hardened somewhat as he looked at Marron, but said nothing.

"Greetings, Athena." Marron said, ignoring his father. "Would you be so kind as to tell us why you summoned us here?"

"Yes, Aslan." the bowmistress said calmly, ignoring the look on the warrior's face. "In light of the current situation, Seles suggested that we gather information on Isentryx's forces in a covert operation. He kindly suggested you, Ryden, and Wolfen to accomplish this task."

Marron's incredulous face flickered to the Dark Knight. "You…!"

"Stop it!" With a great effort, Ryden forced Marron's arm onto the desk. "Yes, Athena, we'll accept." he added hurriedly.

"Good." Athena stood up and began to leave the room. "There doesn't seem to be anything more to discuss, is there?" she added at the threshold of the door.

"No, Athena. Nothing at all." Seles gazed down at her desk and averted his gaze to a small stack of paper and a quill pen. "Well," he murmured to himself, "it seems even I am not immune to this rather insurmountable amount of paperwork that Athena has left behind…"

He lifted the pen in his left hand and suddenly winced; there was an audible click as the quill left his grip and clattered lightly on the desk. "Oh, I'm sorry." he said, looking up at his former students as though he had noticed them for the first time. "Is there something you need?"

"No." Ark turned around and left the room; Ryden was about to do so as well, but noticed that Marron's glare was stonily riveted on the Dark Knight. "Dariel." he said, lightly touching the Paladin on the shoulder. "Come on…"

With a last glare at his father, Marron turned on his heel and stomped out of the office; Ryden followed after throwing an apologetic look at the knight.

Sighing lightly, Seles took the fallen pen in his right hand and proceeded to glare at the renewed stack of obituaries that Athena had left behind.

He closed his eyes and began to sign the papers, the only indication of unrest showing as the tip of the quill mercilessly tore through the parchment.

-----

"How much do you think that's going to take?"

"About 400, tops."

"Good." Tales neatly scribbled a series of equations onto a scrap of stray parchment, his hair fluttering as the quill flew across the paper. "I wouldn't want to blow my brains out over something as complicated as 400 kairn…" he added, in a wine-dry tone.

Igzarion decided not to comment. "Whatever. 400 is easy pickings, anyway."

"Really?" Tales examined his hands, sunlight reflecting off his glasses. "I wouldn't know, seeing as how I don't have a demon chamber shoved through my chest. I suppose having an arcane being contained in one's body does increase mana potential…"

The pen in Igzarion's hand folded with a loud cracking noise. "Don't- joke about that."

The sniper merely smiled. "It seems they also affect emotions as well."

"You…" Igzarion's temper simmered as he turned the pages of his book. "Five years ago, I would have blown your brains out for that."

"Five years ago, you were a total jackass." Tales replied calmly, pretending to not take notice of the vein in the ranger's forehead. "It's nice that since Zer came along, you've been able to get some sense in yourself…"

"Damn it, Tales!" Igzarion slammed his hand on the table so hard that the legs threatened to break. "When can you actually show a little sympathy for once?!"

He was met with a dark glare from his companion- not a harsh, hating stare, but a foreboding, ominous look directed to no one in particular.

"When can you actually be human?" Tales said, quietly, in a voice between a whisper and a hiss. "You were always like this. Every single day from the day we first met. Always the misanthrope. Always the victim. Have you ever thought about the fact that you're not the only person in this world who's suffering? Can you at least try to _pretend _that you have a soul?"The calm outburst silenced the ranger for a second as he shifted his gaze to his book, the pages suddenly becoming almost unfriendly. He shook his head, trying to put together into words what he wanted to say, but the words died in his throat like sparks among ashes.

"I'm sorry." he finally muttered, grudgingly yet somewhat sincerely.

"Good to see that you are for once."

There was a dark silence that followed, interrupted by the ranger's voice. "Where are the girls?"

"Getting a tan on the beach." Tales chuckled lightly as he began to scribble out another equation. "Can you believe them?"

"Yes, actually, I can." Igzarion's eyes flickered to his book. "What's the tolerance factor given a fire-based arte with a rate of about 380 kn?"

"Iggy, I am a sniper. Not a fire mage." Tales did not look up as he continued to draw a complicated-looking graph on his paper. "Besides, it's not brain surgery. All you have to do is calculate the factor given your own personal mana signature, which I assume you know by now-"

"Why do I bother talking to you?" the ranger muttered, drawing a new pen and pulling a sheet of paper towards him. Tales watched in amusement as his scribbling became more erratic by the second; finally, he conceded defeat. "Screw this." he muttered, setting the paper aflame and crumbling it into ash.

"Ah, don't worry. You were never any good with equations, anyway." He smiled and completed his calculation with a flourish. "By the way," he added, in an unusually light tone, "I would estimate your tolerance factor would be about 85 percent, given you haven't gained or lost a few pounds. Weight is, unfortunately, a very significant detail when making such difficult arcane calculations as these…"

"Never mind." Igzarion shut the book and stood up. "We've been here long enough. Should we head to the beach and pick them up?"

"They can take care of themselves." Tales murmured, neatly sliding his dictionary closed. "Magic duel?"

-----

The air in Elaesia was filled with tension as the news was announced that Lieutenant Colonel Ark Wolfen, Colonel Ryden Dracon, and Major General Aslan Seles were breaking the strict decree that garnered Sleepywood. All that was being announced was that the three warriors had been chosen to go on a clandestine mission that involved the forest (and likely the huge ice dome that had sprung up in the middle of it as well). The topic was nothing but the center of discussion among the units.

"What do you think they have to do in the middle of Lazywood?" one crusader remarked rather peckishly over an early dinner.

"You know Athena." Another warrior casually pushed a cold piece of fish around his plate. "She probably wants them to set up another barracks or armory there. Seems Bera isn't big enough for her these days."

There was a crude laugh at this jest, during which a spearman piped up, "You know, maybe they're going to pick up some hot elf girls!"

_"What_?"

"No way…"

"Oh, come on." The spearman airily folded his napkin. "Have you seen Athena lately? I bet she looks real perky under all that-"

"Is there something here that I should know about?" came a caustic voice from above; all three warriors looked up to see Major General Aslan Seles, flanked by his two companions, glowering steadily at them.

All three warriors looked as though they would have rather impaled themselves with broken glass and poured alcohol into their wounds than face the Paladin. "Major…General…" one managed to croak. "We…were…I mean, we…"

"I'm sure Athena would be very flattered to hear you converse about her physique," Marron said flatly, "but we have little time for that. Brigadier General Ronan will be assuming command of Omicron Regiment while I am absent, and I expect you'll give him no trouble. Are we clear?"

There was no audible response from any of the warriors; darkly, he brushed aside a clump of his hair and turned to face Ark and Ryden, snickering lightly. "Same as ever, I see. Come on."

"You've changed, though." Ark commented. Marron raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

At the gates, the three warriors were met by Athena and Ascion. The latter cast her pearly gray eyes at them before murmuring, "Good luck." With a swish of her robe, she disappeared into the mist.

Ascion eyed the ground for some time before raising his eyes to meet his brother. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out; finally, he shoved something hard and cold into the crusader's palm.

Ark glanced down to see that it was a locket, adorned with silver trimmings and a red pearl. He clicked it open to find a small picture of all three siblings, taken roughly about ten years ago.

He heard the priest mutter, almost too softly to be heard, "Promise me you won't die," and then he was gone in a flash of turquoise light.

Ark sighed, then slung the pendant around his neck and trudged off after the two swordsmen towards the forest of Sleepywood.

-----

The rays of the sun pierced through the branches of the trees that covered the Isle of Ascension, beams of heaven glinting past the leaves and lending the forest an almost mystical beauty. The heavy scent of earth and mana permeated the air as various animals scampered about, the dry ground crunching underneath their paws.

"_Inferno!"_

A sudden burst of flame pierced through the woodlands, a clump of bushes incinerated into ashes as orange plumes of fire licked through the air. Squirrels and rabbits squeaked in fright as the scent of smoke hovered in the atmosphere, a charred, gaping hole now prominent in the landscape. Slowly, a dark figure stepped out of the opening.

"Isn't there any place on this _stupid _island that doesn't have thorn bushes growing all over it?!" Zeraion Phoenix's voice exploded through the air.

_It seems the nature spirits are most active at this time of year._

"Yeah, well…" Zeraion angrily fingered a clump of his tangled blonde hair. "Next time Gardner decides to send me into the middle of nowhere, I'll ask him for a map." He glanced about him. "This place seems familiar…"

_Yes. You did pass that large acacia tree thrice already; I can see the familiar burn marks._

"_WHAT?!" _There was a ripping noise as a matted knot of hair suddenly found its way in the ranger's palm. "You mean I've been going in circles?!"

_You might have noticed that the first time around._

Zeraion chose to ignore the spirit's bad sense of humor. "Gardner said the spirit of the dragons resides here…Where's a signpost or a tourist guide when you need one?"

_If memory serves well, I believe Selena may rest somewhere to the east…although it has been centuries since I have last set foot upon this island, and my recollections may be a bit hasty._

Keen to accept this advice over none at all, Zeraion turned to the right and burned his way through another large clump of thorn bushes, only to see a great statue of marble, carved from the cliff around it. The statue was obviously that of a woman, who looked very similar to Athena, her stone hair rippling almost life-like at her heels as a Shinebow adorned her back.

Athos gave a contented sigh. _Ah, Selena, it is good to see you after all these years._

The vein in Zeraion's head could be seen from several meters. "You knew…where this place was…the _whole time?!"_

_Forgive me. I had not wanted to divert you with false directions- as I have said, it has been near a millennia since I last was here._

"You…" Zeraion was on the verge of ripping another clump of hair out. "Never mind. At least I got here without being eaten. I should probably train…" He drew a handful of summoning rocks out of the bag that the bowmaster had given him. "And I don't need your commentary." he added, throwing a somewhat disdainful glance at the Abyssal Arund as he raised it.

Athos thrummed, but did as the ranger said and said nothing. Closing his fist around the handle of the weapon, Zeraion's fingers closed around the blue stone in his other hand. "Silver Hawk!"

The familiar rush of fatigue began to close around him as he struggled to control the rogue magic that threatened to overwhelm him. Even with the abundance of magic particles, the arte was fiendishly difficult to control- it was like trying to keep a dragon on a leash as he struggled furiously against the rogue spell. A sharp breeze of wind rippled through the landscape as the shadow of a great bird began to appear among the trees.

A sudden burst of strength suffused him, and the silver feathers of the hawk suddenly shone in the sunlight. Zeraion cast a glance at the Arund, which twinkled in the light.

_You may want to think twice before scorning my aid._

"Oh, shut up." Zeraion drew back his sleeves. "I've been thinking…you know what Gardner and Athena said about fusion artes…the extreme power literally fuses two artes into one, right?"

_Yes._

"Is it even physically possible to use Final Attack with something like that?"

_Many have tried…and many have failed. But yes, it is possible. Rathias Gardner himself pioneered the arte and learned to work out the exact intricacies at great personal risk. Before that, controlling the magic was a matter of trial and error. A high-stakes game of roulette, if you will._

"I see." Zeraion considered the sky for a moment. "Have you ever tried it before?"

_Yes._

"Did it work?"

There was something resembling discontent radiating from the bow; Athos did not answer the question.

"…Fine, be that way." the ranger shrugged. "I hope Gardner doesn't get me killed, though…"

_Unfortunately, I doubt it- teachers in this day and age are rather soft. You should have been alive in Selena's time. She was a fierce bowmistress- even more so than her great-granddaughter. I recall there once was a time when she ordered me to swim a hundred circumferences about the great waterfall._

Zeraion whistled. "What'd you do?"

_Nothing. That was part of my weekend training routine._

"You know, I don't know why, but I suddenly have a strong desire to train right about now." the ranger muttered, restringing the bow.

-----

"State your name and rank, please."

"Major General Aslan Seles, and these are my subordinates, Colonel Ryden Dracon and Lieutenant Colonel Ark Wolfen."

"Understood." Colonel Reneas Aries made a hand motion in midair, opening the great gates that now cordoned Sleepywood from the rest of the world. "Be careful." he added, his gaze darkening.

"We will." Marron made a short bow and walked into the trees, letting the forest swallow him up. The two aforementioned subordinates followed him without a word, the warriors' plates clinking ominously against the ground.

"Hm." Reneas darkly eyed the warriors as they disappeared into the forest. "Wouldn't envy them right about now."

"Heh." Colonel Luke Sinclaire stroked the limbs of his Golden Nisrock thoughtfully. "Still, I wouldn't mind knocking off a few Tauros or taking a leave of duty. It's so boring doing guard work…"

"You just want to be around Delly." Reneas rolled his eyes.

"No, I don't." Sinclaire replied coolly, although his face visibly changed several shades of color.

Once they were several meters into the forest, Ryden turned to Marron with a dry air. "_Subordinates?" _he asked in a dry voice.

Marron merely shrugged. "You _are _of lower rank than I am, so I'm perfectly justified in calling you whatever I want…" He turned a sharp eye towards the forest canopy. "Besides," he added, "I thought 'annoying drecks' was a bit unkind."

Ryden turned to Ark. "You know, I think you're right. He _is _more of a jerk now."

"I can _hear _you, you know."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," Ark replied calmly, "but I believe there are Tauros in this forest ready to blow our brains out, so it would probably be best to not attract unnecessary attention."

The wisdom of this advice was realized, and the two swordsmen fell silent, the only noise in the air being the sound of dry branches and grass cracking underneath the warriors' heavy feet.

"Holy _shit." _Marron uttered all of a sudden, stopping in his tracks. Ryden and Ark followed his incredulous gaze upwards; there was a brilliant flash of ice-white sunlight reflecting off somewhere in the distance.

Laying upon the horizon, surrounded by the tips of thousands of trees, was the great ice-blue dome of Meteon E'traia. The sunlight illuminated against the intricate designs carved into the crystal, each a miniature work of art. The spikes that adorned its roof cut through the sky menacingly, as though a symbol of the twisted world it had become.

"Is _that _what Athena sent us out here for?" Ryden asked with some disdain.

"Yes. And it's probably what these thieves got blown up for." Marron cast a wary eye around them. "Stay close and don't make any unnecessary noise. I suspect the concentration of enemies will be higher in this area."

There was a bloodthirsty roar off in the distance; Ark rumpled his hair with his gloved hand. "What would you suggest? If we keep on walking, we'll be caught and surrounded within minutes." He ran his foot along the dry branches on the ground to prove his point. "Unless you have a flying arte stashed in that thick head of yours, I think we're stuck."

"I would appreciate it if you not refer to my head as thick, Wolfen." Marron replied calmly, studying the landscape. "However, you are right. This does pose quite a serious problem…"

"What are the odds of just going in and fighting our way through like crazy?" Ryden muttered, stroking his sword.

Ark mimed a violent explosion with his hand. "Less than zero."

Ryden sighed. "Fine, be that way." He cast his gaze around the landscape; there was nothing except trees, trees, and more trees. "Damn it. There has to be something around here we can use…" He sighed. "What I wouldn't give to be a thief right now."

There was a crack above him as a stray branch suddenly broke free of its tree, falling towards the ground and missing Ryden's head by an inch. Ryden swore and unsheathed his sword before realizing that it was probably a gust of wind and not an attempted attack.

_Wait a second…The branches…_

He cast his gaze to the ground. _It's a crazy idea, but it just might work. _He turned to his teammates. "I think I have an idea."

Both turned to look at him. "What?"

Ryden looked upwards at the forest canopy. "Want to go climbing?"

-----

"I can't believe it." Marron muttered to himself as he seized ahold of the trunk and pulled himself up. "Ryden actually had a good idea for once…"

"Dariel, there's no need to be jealous. Some people just think better than others." Ryden answered with a smirk. "Besides, I think it'll do you good. Your brain probably needs some fresh air."

The trees of Sleepywood were much greater than those in Ellinia, existing since the elves planted them millennia ago. Even the branches a couple of hundred feet up into the air were the size and thickness of a bench, allowing the warriors to maneuver without breaking the limbs.

"Kinda tipsy up here." Marron muttered, looking at the dome of Meteon E'traia almost at eye level.

Ryden smiled. "Don't look down." He cast a glance at Ark, who seemed to be frozen. "Ark?"

The axeman snapped out of his reverie. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes! Yes, I am." Ark said, a little too quickly.

Ryden raised an eyebrow. "Ark…are you afraid of heights?"

"No." Ark turned away. "But I will tell you that it's no picnic to balance a forty-pound axe a hundred feet above the ground."

"Whatever." Ryden turned in the direction of Meteon E'traia. "Come on, and don't fall."

A hundred feet below the ground, the Taurospears stomping along the ground cast their eyes fiercely around the landscape for any sign of an intruder, their spears ready to unleash a destructive arte at any moment. But they never took notice of the three warriors that dashed across the branches high above them.

As they ran, Ryden turned to Marron. "Dariel?"

The Paladin barely glanced up, but his pace did slow. "Yes?"

"How did you-" He paused as he ducked a low-hanging branch. "You're really a Paladin after all…"

Marron rolled his eyes. "How many times are you going to repeat that, or do I have to kick your ass again in another duel?"

Ryden merely smiled. "Don't be so sure about that." He considered the sky for a moment. "It's hard to think of you as a fourth-class now. How did you…" He sighed. "How did you do it?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know what Gardner said. Before the battle with the rebels." He raked a few locks of dark hair out of his eyes. "He said that people usually had to wait until they were at 100 before taking the test…yet somehow, you managed to do it at 80."

Marron did not answer immediately. "Yeah, well, I am- Seles' son, after all." He said the words in a sort of jerking tone that sounded like he was eager to get the conversation over with.

"What was the test like?" Ryden asked interestedly. "It must have been hard, right?"

"It was…difficult." The Paladin shrugged. "There were tests of physical and mental strength, and I can't go into details. But…" His gaze sharpened. "I will tell you that you have to fight one huge-as-hell dragon."

Ryden whistled. "Charming. So how'd you do?"

"Killed the bugger." Marron said placidly, as though he were discussing a small animal. "And then I had to decide whether I wanted to be a Hero, Paladin, or Dark Knight, it was the most important decision that I would ever make, blah blah blah. I chose Paladin."

"Why?"

The holy warrior's eyes seemed to freeze for a moment. "For my father. The other one."

"I see." Ryden turned away.

There was a sudden explosion of light as they emerged from the trees into the sunshine, the light reflecting against Meteon E'traia's dome and shooting straight at the warriors' eyes with vicious ferocity. It was viciously bright, so bright that it clawed at their faces and threatened to swallow them.

Too bright.

Ryden shut his eyes and screamed in pain as the blinding rays pierced into his sight; his foot touched a branch, slipped against the bark that was as unfeeling as metal, and suddenly he found himself flying through the air, down towards the hard ground.

He heard a roar of "Blizzard Charge!" and felt his body collide with something hard and cold, yet almost soft at the same time. The wind whirled around him as he slid smoothly towards the ground, and then he hit a soft mound of dried leaves.

"Ugh." Ryden spit out a mouthful of dirt and leaves and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Something collided into his back and he saw Ark doubled over on the ground next to him.

"Where's-" Ryden staggered to his feet and looked around; the Paladin was eyeing them impatiently. Behind them, a gigantic slide of ice was glimmering in the sun, apparently having saved them from colliding fiercely with the ground.

"You know…" Ryden tried to smooth out his hair. "Next time, couldn't you make an ice parachute or something like that?"

"No time for that." Marron's voice was like the crack of a whip. "We're right in the heart of enemy territory. They could be on us at any moment!"

"Thanks for that news flash!" Ark snarled, unsheathing his axe. "Which direction?"

"There!" Ryden roared, drawing his blade and pointing it in the direction of the massive ice monolith. "We need to head there!"

"_Hell Pyre!"_

The sudden outline of a flame-red circle appeared underneath the trio of warriors; three voices roared "Power Guard!" at once before the forest floor erupted in a burst of carmine flame, lichens and leaves crisping in the inferno. The flames burst forth from the earth like a fountain until a large area several yards in radius was burnt to lifeless ashes.

A small troop of Taurospears led by a Jr. Balrog emerged from behind a blackened group of willows, their weapons twitching. "_Are they dead?"_

_"Most likely." _another snarled. _"Let us report back-"_

"Sovereign Gale!"

A sudden burst of wind blades ripped through the air, tearing through the foliage and slaughtering the Taurospear where it stood, its body reduced to grotesque ribbons as its armor cluttered to the floor. The troop of Taurospears was in an uproar as they looked around wildly for the person who had cast the fatal strike arte.

"Over here, you numbskulls!" a voice shouted; the demonic creatures turned to see a wild-haired axeman, standing against a tree almost calmly.

"_You!" _the Balrog roared, its claw raised as it prepared to cast a spell. _"Die! Final-"_

"Angel Pyre!" the axeman commanded, a holy glyph appearing beneath him as pillars of light burst forth from the ground, enveloping the demons in their wake. There were roars of pain and anger as the arte struck its mark; the crusader withdrew his axe and hacked a path through the trees.

"_After him!" _the Balrog roared, charging after the warrior into the thicket.

"Imperial Slaughter!" a voice roared out as a gigantic sword plunged into the ground, an arcane rune beginning to spread forth from it. Without warning, a series of violet lightning bolts exploded forth from the earth, catching a large portion of the demonic troops in the area of effect. The Paladin quickly withdrew his glimmering sword from the earth and nodded to the axeman. "Charge?"

"Charge." Ark hefted his axe. "Where's Ryden?" he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, _sh-" _Marron frantically glanced around him. "There's no time for that! Let's just hope he hasn't got himself killed…or worse."

"Right." With a mighty roar, sword and axe soared forward into the ranks of demons, slashing and clanging against an endless tide of blackened armor and spears.

-----

The bladed edge of a lance hurtled toward Ark as he dashed towards the large line of Taurospears that faced him. "Infliction!" he roared, swinging the blade of his Helios upwards in a great arc. The weapons impacted against each other in a shower of sparks; Ark quickly wrenched his weapon aside and raised his palm. "Shout!"

The lance flew backwards and impaled its owner through the heart; with no time to waste, Ark spun the great handle of his weapon in a full circle and cut a deep slash in the chest plates of two nearby Taurospears ready to cleave him apart. He raised the axe above his head and buried it in the ground. "Slag Assault!"

Bursts of rocks spewed forth from the rent that the blade of the great weapon tore in the earth, spearing the ox-like beasts with crags of stone. Ark turned around to see yet another Taurospear charging at him just in time; it raised its spear and bore down upon him. "Power Guard!" The spear broke into two as it crashed against the warrior's strength; with a sudden burst of strength, Ark lashed out in a spin kick and drove the heel of his greaves through the Taurospear's armor.

He heard roars of "Blizzard Charge!" in the distance and could feel the touch of icy mist spreading around him, knowing the Paladin was in the area. Wincing as a bolt of lightning impacted against his shoulder plate, he raised his axe in one hand and dealt a backhand slash to the attacker, cleaving off its arm. As the Taurospear howled in pain, he raised his other arm. "Angel Pyre!"

Rays of light pulsed through the air as more demons fell to the arcane arte's wrath; Ark raised his head only to see more Taurospears bursting through the trees. _Damn! They've brought reinforcements! And I don't have enough mana to sustain any more arcane artes…looks like I'll have to rely on strike for now. _He turned from the beasts and began to run.

"_Coward!" _the lead Taurospear snarled. _"After him!" _The beasts charged towards Ark only to see him run towards a large tree. As the demons watched, he slammed the blade of the axe into the trunk and launched himself upwards with the momentum. "Die! Impact Hammer!"

He lashed out with his arm, glowing with pent-up energy, and struck the tree trunk with the flat of his elbow. The wood exploded with such force that splinters and twigs suddenly became deadly projectiles; the gigantic trunk tilted backwards with a mighty groan and collapsed onto the group of demons with a thunderous crash. Smiling humorlessly, Ark neatly withdrew his weapon from the stump and turned to see another troop of the beasts charging at him.

"Damn it!" Ark swore out loud, redrawing his axe. _Don't these idiots know when to stop? _He unleashed a mighty roar and turned back into the thicket of the enemies, chopping his way through the demons. One Taurospear raised its spear and prepared to unleash a bolt of lightning at him only to be downed by a skull-shattering stab from the axe in midair; Ark landed on his feet and held the axe to the side. "Tempest Trench!"

He swung the axe in a twisted motion so that it edged close to the ground, creating a combined whirlwind of earth and wind that engulfed the head of the weapon. Raising the handle of his axe to the air, he brought the blade over his head and slammed it into the ground, unleashing a gigantic tornado along the forest floor. The cyclone whirled through the Taurospears like a bowling ball hitting a set of pins, sending them flying and crashing into trees.

Ark winced as fatigue began to creep over him; another set of demons exploded behind a thicket and charged at him. _Shit! There's no end in sight, and I'm near out of mana from using too many artes… _The lead Taurospear lunged forward with a stab and Ark heard a crack as he was thrown off his feet, crashing into the ground. Bolts of lightning arced towards him, one striking him in the chest quite forcibly.

Ark picked up his axe and swung it several times around his head before flinging it forcibly into the air, its golden blade shining as it flew through the sky. He grit his teeth and stared down the cadre of Tauros bearing down upon him.

_I haven't really had a chance to practice hand-to-hand combat…but let's see what we can do._

He lunged forward and charged with a straight punch, the studded metal of his glove clanging against the armor with a loud crack. Swiftly, he followed up the maneuver with a double kick, sending the Taurospear reeling backwards and crashing into one of its comrades. Quickly, Ark launched himself into the air and drove the heel of his greaves into the back of another Taurospear's head, connecting with a sickening crunch.

"_Prepare to perish!" _a Taurospear roared, about to cast an arte. _"Hell-"_

The axe completed its descent towards the earth by lopping off the attacking beast's head with a grotesque noise; swiftly, Ark kicked the handle upwards so that the weapon was once more in his hands. He raised it briefly for a moment before sliding it onto his back. _I'm too drained to do anything beyond fist-fighting for the moment. _

A Taurospear lunged at him with its lance and he dodged, but not without receiving a crack in his shoulder plate. Swearing, he charged forward with an uppercut, then launching himself off the Taurospear's reeling figure, spun in midair towards another beast and brought down his legs in a savage kick. The unfortunate victim took the force of the blow head-on and collapsed to the ground, its head lolling limply upon its shoulders.

Ark brushed some sweat off his forehead and prayed that this was the last of them; however, just as he was about to catch a breath, the Jr. Balrog commander of the troops lumbered towards him.

"Shit." he murmured, clutching at the pendant that Ascion had given him. He would have cast an arcane arte at it, but his mana was completely drained and he felt too tired to even pick up his axe. _Where's a miracle when you need one?_

"Helm Breaker!" A sudden burst of leaves and lightning shot downwards from a nearby tree and crashed against the Balrog at full force. Ark gaped upwards to see Ryden, in his draconic form and wielding his now-transformed greatsword.

"Holy…" Ark sucked in his breath and staggered over to Ryden. "You never told me you could do that."

"There's a lot of things I haven't told you, Wolfen." Ryden hacked aside another charging Taurospear almost lazily. "You all right? You look beat up…"

"Just a light case of mana deprivation." Ark exhaled as steadily as he could, rivulets of blood running down his chestplate. "Where were you? Marron nearly threw a fit when you weren't-"

"I got separated from you two by a bunch of Tauromacis." Ryden threw a glance behind him. "They were easy pickings, though…made mincemeat of them. Take this." Ryden slammed a small container into the crusader's hand, who opened it to find a neat pile of small blue pills. "They're concentrated mana elixir capsules. I think they should hold you over for some time…but remember, we've got to get out of this alive."

"Yeah. I made a promise." Ark fingered the pendant around his neck nervously before swallowing a handful of the small capsules. "Should I go find Marron?"

"Yeah, you go do that. There has to be an entrance to this place somewhere." Ryden brushed sweat and blood off his forehead. "Keep looking. It can't be far off…these bastards have to be coming from somewhere."

"All right. Take care." Ark nodded before dashing off into the forest, his axe at his side.

Ryden slowly watched him go before turning his attention to the Jr. Balrog, slightly winded but very much alive, and unfortunately very pissed off.

"_Foolish…human." _it snarled. _"Meteor!"_

There was a gigantic eruption of black flame as Ryden dived out of the way, narrowly being burnt to a crisp; he rolled to his feet. "You demons seem to have a superiority complex, don't you?" he snarled. "Round Trip!"

The greatsword arced through the air, mowing down several trees before charging at the Balrog from behind, its serrated edge crackling with cobalt-blue lightning. The Balrog leaped out of the way but not without receiving a slash in its wing; its eyes narrowed to slits of fury as it stared at Ryden. _"Lightning Tempest!"  
_

Quickly, Ryden seized the sword as it returned from its path and began to twirl it rapidly in a full circle, creating a makeshift barrier around himself. The lightning hit the sword with a massive explosion and felling several trees; however when the smoke cleared, Ryden was still standing, fairly unharmed.

The Balrog's eyes widened in surprise before Ryden charged. "Stinger!" The air began to blur as Ryden propelled himself forward, his sword extended like a deadly missile. He crashed into the demon's armor with such force that the plate splintered and threatened to shatter; the Balrog tumbled through several trees before staggering back with a vengeance.

"_So…you can fight a little." _it snarled. "_Dark Sight!"_

The Balrog then seemingly melted into thin air, tendrils of black shadow seizing it and making its body invisible until only the faint outline of its figure could be seen. Ryden's eyes widened before something razor-sharp collided with his chest, sending him flying into the air.

The Balrog wasn't done yet; it lunged forward and caught the swordsman in a savage uppercut, sending him flying into the air before the demon smashed a fist into him, sending him flying through the air like a rag doll and causing him to hit a tree, blood oozing from his mouth.

"_Heh." _The Balrog snarled viciously. "_You cannot defeat that which you cannot see…"_

Then a sudden burst of lightning shot forth from the warrior's blade and collided fiercely with the demon in an explosion of blue lightning; the Balrog wildly looked around only to be hit by a vicious uppercut from the greatsword, its armor cracking from the impact.

"_What?!" _the demon snarled furiously, lashing out wildly in search of the warrior, but hit nothing. _"Impossible…!"_

"Fool." Ryden snarled from a branch above, his wounds healing almost instantaneously. "I can hear your footsteps, I can sense your body heat, and I can see the outline of your figure in the light." He raised his sword and aimed it at the demon's figure. "Distortion Drive!"

A bolt of pure energy gathered at the tip of his blade and erupted forth from the sword, a gigantic beam of blue energy that shot downwards and impacted the ground with such force that trees exploded into ashes as the burst of energy rippled through the air. The Balrog, caught in the midst of the blast, hadn't even time for a scream before it was vaporized, the remnants of its body drifting away in the wind.

A sudden troop of Tauromacis charged from a nearby bush and stopped when they saw the destruction wreaked by the attack.

"_Where is the human?"_

_"Most likely he has perished."_

_"In that case, where is our leader?"_

Ryden grit his teeth and deactivated Dragon Trigger, the flames around his body calming. _I won't need it for these chumps and it'll only waste mana. _He twirled the katana in his hand and leaped downwards, the blade raised for an attack. "Dragon Fan!"

The edge of the sword, sharper that the wind, burst downwards and cleaved a Tauromacis in half, its mutilated body falling to the ground with a thump. The Tauromacis whirled about and charged at him, the blades of three lances flying towards him.

With a shout, Ryden crossed his sword against all three spears at once and wrenched the blade upwards, causing the weapons to fly through the air. In one swift motion, he raked the sword through the air and dealt a fatal slash wound to all three beasts, their bodies slumping to the ground. A fourth ox charged at him only to be stabbed thrice through the chest, blood soaking into the forest floor.

He spun around to meet another group of Tauromacis running at him and met them head-on with an uppercut, the sword cutting through the plate armor like a hot knife through butter. Ryden swiftly kicked the body of the beast aside and dashed forward, turning on his heel and lashing out in a roundhouse kick, the spiked heel of his greaves colliding with the beast's armor in a loud crunch. The hilt of a gigantic spear lashed at him only to be stopped as Ryden twirled the edge of his weapon upwards to guard against the assault.

A sudden bolt of lightning flashed across his wrist and he cried out in pain, dropping his sword; he raised a palm and roared, "Shout!" The offending beast was thrown backwards and collided with a tree trunk; unfortunately, in the ensuing scuffle, the weapon disappeared somewhere under the hooves of the beasts.

"_Shit!" _Ryden spat the word out like a red-hot poker as he tensed himself, barely dodging the edges of several spears as they rushed at him. _I can try to take them on bare-handed, but…_ He looked around wildly as a bolt of lightning whizzed narrowly over his head. _Where's that stupid Paladin when you actually need him?_

Ryden clenched his fist and slammed it forward into the nearest Tauromacis, causing it to stagger; he then jumped several feet into the air and lashed out with a spin kick in midair, defying gravity as his armor-clad legs swung through the sky and smashed into the side of a Tauromacis' skull, downing it with a thud. He landed palm-first upon the ground and spun himself in a crescent moon, smashing aside several beasts before alighting.

One Tauromacis raised its spear and plunged it into the ground, commanding, _"Astatos!" _A burst of lightning exploded from underneath Ryden's feet, who narrowly managed to command, "Power Guard!" The lightning rolled off the barrier and hurtled back towards its caster in a large explosion. Not missing a beat, Ryden charged forward and lashed out with a series of punches, each hitting its target with a loud thud. He then clenched his fist and jumped into the air with a loud roar, delivering a eight-hit series of kicks and punches, his figure moving through the air like a ghost as the blows struck their mark. Undaunted even as the blade of a spear hurtled towards him, he whipped his leg around and slammed the flat of his heel against the incoming weapon, the spear flying backwards and impaling its owner through the heart.

Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a glimmer of silver underneath the leaves; his sword. He lunged for it only to be grazed by the point of a spear as a Tauromacis charged forward to intercept him. Swearing and clutching his shoulder, he commanded "Shout!" as he drove his palm forward, the beast's spine audibly folding as he drove the flat of his hand against the neck. Thinking fast, he raised his hand and commanded, "Alastor!"

Like a boomerang, the sword rose from the ground and sped back like a rocket toward its owner's outstretched palm, passing through the chests of several unfortunate Tauros in the process. Ryden caught the handle of the bloody weapon and sheathed it with a flourish. "That should come in handy later."

The flow of Tauromacis seemed to stem; taking the opportunity, Ryden charged forward into the forest and headed towards Meteon E'traia. _Where's Ark and Dariel? Have they found a passage into the whole place yet?_

He heard a shout of "Blizzard Charge!" in the distance and charged towards it, just in time to see Marron wrenching his ice-laced Heaven's Gate out of the chest of a great Balrog. "Dariel! Have you found an entrance yet?"

"No. I spent all my time killing these beasts- which seem to be multiplying like fuckin' bunnies." Ryden raised an eyebrow at the Paladin's unusual choice of words, as Marron continued. "There's no end in sight to this madness. We've been killing for about half an hour, judging by the sun's position in the sky, and we're no closer to finding an entrance than we were thirty minutes ago."

"Good sentiments." Ryden muttered darkly. He unsheathed his sword, glittering with rivulets of dark maroon. "Need some help?"

The Paladin muttered something under his breath that sounded like a refusal (and probably offensive), but Ryden paid it no heed. "Come on. Find Wolfen, and we'll get the hell out of here. We've found out enough."

"Yeah." Marron wiped a bit of blood off of his cheek. "Let's go." The two swordsmen immediately climbed into the trees and leaped deftly from branch to branch in search of their teammate.

"Dariel." Ryden said, abruptly, as they traveled.

"Yeah."

"There's something I've been wondering. What level are you?"

Marron raised an eyebrow, but said, "Ninety-six."

Ryden swore very lightly under his breath. "Why do you still have that Heaven's Gate? I thought you would have upgraded to a Devil's Sunrise by now, or something like that…"

Marron's face hardened for a second. "It was my father's, and I would be shaming him if I didn't put it to good use."

"I thought Seles was a Dark-" Ryden began, but he cut himself off. "Never mind. I understand that, but still…"

"It's not an ordinary sword." Marron said darkly, as though he was reading Ryden's mind. "It has a special ability. My father forged it himself."

"What kind of ability?" Ryden asked, his interest piqued.

"Maybe if you piss me off enough, I'll show you." the Paladin replied, half dryly and half seriously.

There was a yell off in the distance and both swordsmen froze. "That was…" Ryden began to say.

"Who else do we know is out here?" Marron snapped back. "It came from over there. Let's go."

"But we've been going in the _wrong_ directionthis whole time!_" _Ryden yelled frustratedly.

"Unless you want Wolfie to get his head blown into hamburger, which I'm not going to discount as a possibility now, I would suggest that we turn around." Marron replied flatly.

Ryden gave a look that was something between a scowl and a smile. "Good to see you have a heart, Dariel."

Marron did not reply as he turned towards the great dome of Meteon E'traia, his sword drawn, and leapt deftly through the branches, Ryden following at his heels.

-----

The spring wind blew softly through the fields of Lith Harbor, ruffling the leaves of the gentle trees and leaving a gentle trail across the land. Snails and slimes gently squeaked and bounced across the beaten paths of the port city as adventurers fresh from the trip to Maple Island wildly slashed at the monsters, hoping to gain some well-needed experience.

Suddenly, the grounds fell silent as two figures stepped forth from the gates of Lith Harbor.

"Whoa!"

"Look at that figure!"

"Hey, sweetie…wanna grab a bite to eat sometime?"

Delinia Arklanser shook her head, her flame-colored locks cascading about her figure. "Can you believe it?" she muttered to Arundale out the corner of her mouth. "Kids ten years younger than I am are chasing after me now…"

"Yeah." Arundale giggled. "Kinda makes you look forward to seeing Luke, doesn't it?"

She turned her glare towards her companion. "I told you _not _to bring that…subject up in conversation."

"Admit it already!" Natalia whined, hanging onto Arklanser's arm.

"God, you remind me of that hyperactive little brat you were twelve years ago." the rangeress muttered.

Arundale blanched. "W-what? I was _not _a brat!"

"Tell that to the thousands of innocent bags of sugar that you killed." Delinia replied smoothly.

"I knew it." she muttered. "Your brand of jokes always involve death…"

"Being with you, it's not hard to understand why." she grumbled.

"Well, I didn't have _that _much sugar anyway. What has Rysdale been telling you these days?"

"More than you need to know." she said, with a smirk.

"I don't want to know what that means…" she muttered back.

"Heh." Arklanser slid her hands into her jacket pockets. "You want to head back to Elaesia or look for Rysdale and Iggy?"

"They probably went back on their own. Let's go."

"Alright."

High above them in the clear blue sky, a single dark cloud loomed overhead.

-----

Thousands of miles away, the Isle of Ascension was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the silvery rays of the celestial moon. The islet was completely at peace, the spirits resting in their haunts and the wild animals slumbering within the forest. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of the waterfall, gently thundering down in its mana pool and flowing silently along the ridges of the islet.

_The sky was black- completely darkened with the shadow of evil. Lightning and rain flashed as the heavens unleashed their fury upon the carnage of the destruction below._

_The demons clashed furiously against the combined forces of the humans and the elves, the last resistance against the evil that threatened to engulf the world of Bera. The warriors and thieves rushed towards the frontlines, cutting down countless monsters with their blades, whilst the archers and magicians let loose their deadliest artes upon the field of battle._

_The carnage was tremendous, both sides suffering great losses. Already the prominent generals among the humans and elves were severely weakened and some had already fallen. The demons chief among the command of Razier were advancing without mercy upon the weakened troops._

_The scene suddenly became fragmented; it was as though time itself had been altered. Bright flashes of white light obscured his vision as the screams of countless slaughtered rose into the air._

_A woman silently falling to the ground, impaled by a merciless, fiery blade of demon steel as her life faded into ashes…_

_A man clutching his beloved's bloodied hand in his own, as he raised his dagger for one last stand against the soulless beast that had taken her life…_

_Another man, clutching a blade of pure ice, impaled viciously through the heart with jagged spires of cold crystal, brought to death's gate by his own element…_

_Yet still others, each dying a more painful death than the last, countless lives swept away like particles of dust…_

_He stood there, one lone figure against the vile creature that had taken them all, as he raised his bow to the sky, willing to give up everything if only to vanquish this vile plight from the earth once and for all._

_The demon only smiled as he aimed the limbs of his bow, shining in the flames, and a sudden burst of pain washed over him, his weapon suddenly falling to the ground below. The demon grinned, a cruel crescent of darkness piercing through the sky, its claws raised as it dealt the final blow._

_Blood…pain…and then darkness, as his soul fell to the abyss._

-----

Zeraion Phoenix jerked awake, gasping and grabbing wildly for the pitcher of water that he had left at his bedside. His hand, twitching like a zombie revived from death, frantically fumbled for the pitcher before his fingers knocked the pitcher to the ground. The glass shattered loudly as water poured across the floor.

"Sh…shit." Zeraion shook his head roughly and glanced at the small lake that the floor had become. He glanced nervously at Gardner, but the bowmaster was still snoring stonily. He raised a hand and muttered, "Inferno", waiting for the water to evaporate.

Once the floor was dry, he racked his brains, trying to imagine what had caused this…dream? Vision? He glanced at his bed, soaked in cold sweat. The Abyssal Arund lay glinting on the covers.

Zeraion winced. _Right. I've had to hold this thing to bed because Gardner warned me of the possibility of a bear or something coming close to the house…but I don't understand what could have triggered the seizure that I had. _

He wrung his hair and winced as drops of sweat began to rain upon the floor. _That was intense. _He silently sat at the edge of the bed and picked up the Abyssal Arund. _Athos. You awake?_

_Souls at unrest do not have the pleasure of repose. What troubles you, dragon child?_

Zeraion sighed, careful not to speak aloud and awake the bowmaster. _I…had a vision of sorts. It was frightening…like a war. It felt so real. People were dying all over the place, and it was like I was helpless to stop them._

_Really?_

_Yes. I had a vision of the great demon Razier waging war upon Victoria. _He shuddered. _What if…what if it's a premonition? I can't bear the thought of something like that happening..._

_I doubt it was a premonition. _Athos sighed balefully. _My apologies, Zeraion. I am sorry for the distress I have put you through._

_You?_

_During the night, it seems that something may have triggered a recall of some memories of my past during the ancient war. Because of our more-than-casual link to each other, I am afraid you may have experienced some of those memories._

Zeraion sat frozen in shock. _No…no way. Those were your memories? You mean those things actually happened?_

_Unfortunately…yes. _The bow seemed rather dim, even in the moonlight. _It is a harsh reminder of how I once failed as my duty as one of the Divine Children. Because of my folly, countless have died. It is a sin that I exist._

"Don't…Don't say that." Zeraion said softly, abandoning their telepathic link. "Athena said you were this world's last hope against resisting Razier. And…I'm grateful for your presence too. Without you, I wouldn't be able to perform fusion artes…and I wouldn't stand a chance against Gault." he finished lamely.

The bow thrummed softly. _Thank you. _

Zeraion sighed, his pulse returning to almost normal as he lay against the cushion of the mattress. _Just don't do that again. _He closed his eyes, preparing to fall once more into the warm embrace of sleep.

_Zeraion._

His eyes snapped open. _Yes?_

_Please…for the sake of the world, do not make the same mistakes I did._

_Which mistakes were those?_

He never received a reply.

-----

Far off in the depths of Victoria, Gault Isentryx brooded.

"The time is ripe for another assault upon Elaesia's heartland, I would think." he muttered, stroking the limbs of his Shinebow. "What say you, Raizen?"

Grace said nothing as she stared almost wistfully at the intricate designs that adorned the halls of the great elven city. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed the dark bowman's face. "When I ask you a question, I expect a reply in return."

The spirit's emotionless eyes seemed to flicker. "Do what you will. I have no right to comment on those types of matters."

Gault sighed. "An acerbic reply, but a reply nonetheless. What troubles you?"

"Nothing." She turned on her heel and abruptly disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Gault's eyes narrowed darkly. "So be it. I could ask those three blubbering fools to lead another attack on the stronghold of Elaesia, but they are still recuperating from their wounds…pitiful beings." he muttered, rumpling his hair. "If Rysdale or Traphes were here, I would ask them for advice."

His smile suddenly widened. _If they were here, indeed._

He snapped his fingers and a Crimson Balrog appeared timidly from the hallway. _"Your orders, lord?"_

Gault closed his eyes. "Call a force of twenty or so units to the crossroads at Lith Harbor. I will be waiting for you there."

The Balrog bowed timidly before retreating, as Gault deftly strung his Shinebow. _It looks like I may have to pay some old friends a visit…yet again._

-----

The sun was beginning to set in the sky when Rysdale Tales and Traphes Igzarion returned to Elaesian headquarters.

"Anything interesting going on?" Tales asked the gate guard for the day, who happened to be Colonel Luke Sinclaire.

"No, not unless you count Ark, Ryden, and the younger Seles going on a suicide trip in the middle of Sleepywood."

Both bowmen raised their eyebrows. "Charming. Have you seen Natalia or Delinia anywhere?"

"No." Sinclaire sighed. "Haven't seen anyone since guard duty. However, I did hear they ran off to Florina Beach."

Tales rolled his eyes. "Figures. We knew as much. The sun's beginning to set, so they won't be able to get much of a tan now, though…" He gazed steadily at the sky before returning his gaze to the auburn-haired ranger. "You think you could let us in now?"

"Oh, right." Sinclaire smirked. _I could play this to my advantage. "_Sure, after you find Del- I mean, Arklanser and Arundale. I would do it myself, but Athena stuck me on guard duty." He shrugged his shoulders listlessly to prove his point and bit his tongue to keep from smiling.

Tales' eyes hardened. "You-"

Igzarion laid a hand on his shoulder. "Leave him, Tales." He raised a hand and commanded, "Silver Hawk!" before taking off into the sky.

Tales gave Sinclaire one last scowl before muttering, "Golden Eagle," and soaring after Igzarion.

-----

The shores of Florina Beach were calm as the waves lapped at the sand, the gentle noise of water resounding through the air as the remnants of Lorangs and Lupins crawled back to their homes to rest for the day. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, an orb of orange-peach light slowly dipping into the mountains.

"They don't seem to be anywhere near here." Igzarion muttered, kicking a cloud of sand into the air. "Maybe they went back."

"In the span of two minutes?" Tales shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Igzarion retorted.

The sniper seemed lost in thought before he replied calmly, "No, Iggy, I don't."

Igzarion raised an eyebrow. "You not having an idea? Now that's new."

"Why, Traphes, I'm flattered that you seem to hold me in such intellectual esteem." Tales replied calmly, the shadow of a smile flickering across his face.

A vein bulged in the ranger's forehead as he rumpled his hair. "It seems I spoke too soon."

"Come on. Let's go." Tales motioned to Igzarion to follow him. "We should head to Lith. Maybe someone around there saw them."

True to word, in five minutes, both sniper and ranger were walking along the cobblestones of the port city, asking various citizens if they had seen a pair of female rangers passing through the place. Most had, but were unable to say where exactly they had gone.

The pair reconvened near the city gates. "Any luck?" Tales asked.

"No." Igzarion withdrew a harsh-smelling flask from his belt and downed it in a gulp as Tales watched silently. He flung the glass against the ground and it shattered loudly, scaring a young swordsman nearby. "Holy-"

"Sorry." Tales said quickly. "Listen. We're looking for two rangers that passed through this city, both female. One had shoulder-length orange-brown curls and a Golden Arund, and the other had long flame-red hair past her waist and a White Nisrock. Have you seen either of them?"

A snide grin appeared over the kid's face. "Oh, you mean those two pieces of eye candy that passed through from Florina Beach? I saw them walking down the path towards Elaesia Central."

Igzarion raised an eyebrow angrily. "I will have you know that one of those pieces of candy is my _sister-" _He was cut off by a quick hand motion from the sniper. "Thanks, kid." Before either could make a move, Tales had dragged Igzarion out the city gates and down the path towards the Victoria crossroads.

"Look." Tales pointed towards the ground as they walked. "See the footprints?"

"What about them?" the ranger sullenly muttered.

"Most of them are made by sandals or sneakers…But here, we have two pairs of heavy-duty ranger's foot guards." He indicated a set of large depressions in the ground, contrasting sharply against the lighter ridges in the dirt. "They were here at some point."

"Why the hell would they walk?" Igzarion spat. "You'd think they would have learned Silver Hawk by now…"

Tales merely shrugged darkly. "Come on. Let's follow them."

The bowmen quickly sped along the path, their eyes following the deep prints that the boots made in the ground. Slowly, the light trees of Lith Harbor began to give way to the denser forests of Ellinia.

"What would they be doing in Ellinia?"

"Maybe looking for us." Tales muttered.

They continued walking for several paces until Igzarion abruptly stopped, nearly causing Tales to run into him. "Iggy, what-"

"Look." he said sharply, pointing to a nearby tree.

Its bark was burnt, crossed with slashes, and stained with the burgundy color of dried blood. As both examined the tree, they could see that there were more like it, giving evidence that there had been a fight here.

It was Igzarion who broke the silence with a single four-letter word. Tales glanced at him; he rarely used that sort of language- not out loud, anyway. "Where in the hell could they be?"

"What makes you think I know?!"

Both raised their heads towards the sky, which was now beginning to darken. "This is _not _good at all."

As if to further amplify that statement, out of nowhere, a Crimson Balrog suddenly appeared. As both Tales and Igzarion leapt back in shock, they could see that it had been there the whole time, using some sort of technique to keep itself invisible…Dark Sight, perhaps.

"What the _hell_ did you do with them?!" Igzarion roared, unsheathing his Black Metus, as Tales also prepared to load his Marine Raven with a bolt.

However, the Balrog seemed not the least bit fazed by their weapons, but merely began to speak. It was not the human language; it was a demonic dialect, a harsh, guttural sound that grated against the bowmen's ears.

_Ka zhana grnirz redon…Savira falals zhen ri…_

A sudden bolt of pain exploded through Tales' arm and he screamed, shouting a curse into the air as he dropped his weapon and writhed in pain, his arm feeling as though it had exploded. He could hear Igzarion shouting something, but above all were the words of the demon, cutting into his mind, each syllable a burning brand of pain in his arm…

The dark dragon embroiled upon his shoulder suddenly sprang to life, bursting through his jacket and soaring into the air, wrapping its coiled body around him. As the pain grew stronger and stronger and his screams slowly faded, he realized with horror…

He could understand the demon's words.

The pain abruptly subsided as fast as it had came, leaving the panting sniper upon the ground, his weapon fallen at his side. Igzarion knelt by his side and violently shook his head. "Rysdale! What the hell happened?"

"I could tell you…if you let the hell go of my face." Tales snarled, uncharacteristically harshly. Igzarion did so, somewhat surprised, as Tales staggered to his feet. "I don't know how it happened…but somehow, I could understand what it was saying. It must have had something to do with…the mark that Gault gave me." He cast a hateful glance at his shoulder, now throbbing only faintly.

"Well?" Igzarion stared at him impatiently. "What the hell did it say?"

Tales closed his eyes and began to speak; however, the voice that came out of his mouth was not his; it was a harsh, low snarl that sounded like…a dragon's growl.

_If you wish to see them alive again, you must arrive at the sacred gates of Meteon E'traia at precisely the stroke of midnight. Bring no one with you, or else they shall perish. I will be waiting for you._

-----

The resulting shouting match that erupted between Tales, Igzarion, and Athena resounded throughout the remains of Elaesia like a shockwave.

"_What did you just say?!" _Athena roared, fury in her eyes. "Only hours after I order the area of Sleepywood off-limits, you take it upon yourself to venture there?!"

Both bowmen stood stonily against the bowmistress' fury. "Athena, with all due respect, this is a matter of the utmost importance." Tales said, with impressive calmness.

Athena could have cared less. "Utmost importance?! What could be more important than keeping yourselves alive?!"

"Natalia and Delinia, perhaps?" Igzarion retorted.

It was as though Athena had been hit with a sledgehammer; she froze before slowly sinking back into her seat. "What…happened to them?" she asked in a voice laced with barely-controlled fury.

Tales sighed and rubbed beads of perspiration off his brow. "For lack of a better word, they were abducted near Ellinia. There was a bloody mess in the forest…burn and slash marks everywhere. Whatever happened probably did not turn in their favor."

Athena's expression tightened even more. "I see your concern, but what gives you reason to think that they are in Sleepywood?"

Tales sighed, rubbing his shoulder. "A Crimson Balrog found us and delivered us the explicit message to go to Meteon E'traia alone, or else."

Athena didn't need to ask what "or else" meant. "I do not want you throwing your lives away needlessly."

The sniper's gaze was as sharp as a knife. "Nothing is needless if it is for a friend." He nodded to Igzarion, and both walked away without another word.

Athena sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "I should have known better than to repeat that proverb to them so often…" She cast a glance outside the window; Elaesia was near-destroyed from the previous attack, Phoenix and Gardner were thousands of miles away, and the Devil Children had fallen into Isentryx's vicious web.

She stared silently at the mountain of new death certificates that had accumulated upon her desk, her quill raised.

On a fierce impulse, she flung aside the pen and set the papers aflame, letting them dwindle to ashes upon the wooden surface of the table.

-----

The sky was darkening over Victoria Island.

At this time, the forest of Sleepywood seemed even more sinister than ever; trees cast their shadows over the ground, dancing like ghosts. An occasional lizard darted from tree to tree, but for the most part, the forest was deserted; no living thing dared to venture there since the induction of the Tauros in the forest.

So it was a surprise for the Balrogs guarding the gigantic ice gates of Meteon E'traia that there was a rustle in the leaves above. _"What in Razier's name is that?" _one snarled.

"_It could be those three warriors that were reported earlier in the forest." _another replied. _"They were highly destructive towards our forces. If it is indeed them, we should not treat them with mercy."_

_"No." _Another Balrog, slightly taller than the first two, spoke. _"We led a complete search of the forests earlier and found nothing. There would be no need to waste time and effort in coordinating another sweep of the area."_

The Balrogs fell to muttering ominously among themselves as they settled near the gate.

Suddenly, two figures exploded from the treetops, death in their eyes. Before any of the surprised demons could make a move, they were already in the midst of casting their arcane artes.

"Icy Hellpike!"

"Devil's Inferno!"

The combined forces of flame and ice ripped through the group of Balrogs like a pneumatic drill; they barely even had time to cry out as they were either speared by gigantic lances of crystal or burnt to ashes by pillars of dark flame.

Rysdale Tales landed deftly upon the ground and shouldered his crossbow. "Ready, Iggy?"

"Ready when you are." Traphes Igzarion retorted, his bow strung taut.

"There has to be some method of opening this door." Tales muttered, running his hand across the surface of the hard, never-melting ice. "Gault wouldn't have sent us here for nothing…as fucked-up as he is."

Suddenly, the ice began to glow with a golden light; as Tales felt the familiar burning sensation in his shoulder as the dragon upon it sprang to life, there was a loud grinding noise and the unbreakable frozen walls suddenly split, leaving a gap wide enough for a man to squeeze through.

"There's our answer, I guess." Igzarion muttered as Tales massaged his shoulder. "Let's go."

They edged into the great cavern, their weapons raised, only to meet nothing. The room was shrouded in pitch-black, nothing showing against the walls. There was no indication of how big the room was- or even what was in it.

Igzarion swore in the darkness as he tripped over something and crashed to the ground. "Damn it! If Gault doesn't kill us, this bloody darkness will." He raised a hand and shouted, "Inferno!" The resulting flame illuminated the cavern for a second, but the light was too brief to see anything.

Before either of them could react, however, a sudden burst of light exploded through the cavern, causing both to shut their eyes in pain. When the light cleared and both bowmen's eyes adjusted to the new level of brightness, an amazing sight met their eyes.

They were standing in the middle of a great hall, the walls as ice-blue as they were on the outside. A great chandelier, now apparently lit, was glittering eerily, its position making it look like a sun more than anything. Ancient elven art adorned the walls, as well as ornate carvings in the crystal. Great arched entrances were laid out in all corners of the room, leading to innumerable rooms within the great dome.

In the center of all this splendor was Gault Isentryx himself, his black hair contrasting sharply against the light icy blue that surrounded them. The Dragon Shinebow, now looking more silvery than gold, gleamed on his back. He made no move towards the two bowmen as he regarded them silently.

"_What the fuck did you do with them?!" _Igzarion bellowed, flames leaping from his fist.

Gault only smiled darkly. "Is that any way to treat an old friend, Traphes? Especially after I gave you the privilege of coming here to visit me without having you blown into bits?"

"Don't give us that _bullshit!" _Tales' voice angrily resounded throughout the hall. "We know that you have them somewhere, and if we have to, we'll tear this whole place down to find them!"

Gault's smile did not falter. "I thought you would be a little more cordial given the circumstances, Rysdale."

"It's rather difficult to be cordial with a _bastard _like you!" the sniper spat angrily.

Gault's eye twitched angrily, but he made no move towards either of them. "Very well. I see simple conversation eludes you at this moment." He snapped his fingers, and two Crimson Balrogs entered the room, carrying the limp bodies of Natalia Arundale and Delinia Arklanser over their shoulders.

Both bowmen froze at this sight, and Gault's smile returned. "You need not fear for them; they are still alive. However…" He clicked his tongue and the Balrogs growled threateningly. "That could change at any moment."

"What do you want?!" Igzarion roared furiously.

"The same as usual." Gault opened his eyes, his expression becoming slightly serious. "Why do you bother yourselves with Elaesia? You know perfectly well that it is in ruins right now and I can destroy it utterly at my whim. You are only inviting your fate."

"Because…you're seriously screwed up." Igzarion scoffed. "What you hope for is a twisted nightmare. You can't kill every non-bowman on this earth just because you were mistreated as a kid. Choices can be made."

"Choices _should _be made." Gault replied, unfazed. "Mine just involves a little sacrifice."

"A _little?! _Do you realize how much you're taking away from this world? You'll destroy three of the four classes that make up this earth!"

"Explain to me how that's a bad thing." Gault said placidly. "The other three classes are weak and only pretend to have power. It is the archers that wield true strength. We can reform the world. We can make it stronger and better than it ever has been in its history!"

"You _are _insane." Tales whispered.

Gault's eyes snapped open angrily. "I will not have your insults, Rysdale. Dispersal!"

Tales was thrown off his feet by the force of the arte and crashed painfully to the floor. Deciding that now was not the best time for diplomacy, Igzarion clenched his fist as flames began to leap from it. "Devil's Inferno!"

"Bastion!" Gault commanded, the black flames flowing over his guard like water. In a swift motion, he disappeared into the air and suddenly reappeared behind Igzarion, his body tensed. "Hawkshead Drive!"

The force of the spin kick sent the ranger flying, crashing into the wall. He staggered to his feet, a trickle of blood flowing from his mouth. "You _bastard!" _He raised his bow, black flames leaping from its limbs. "Dark Distortion!"

The resulting blast of flame sped at Gault with the force of a bullet and crashed into him; he managed to guard against it but still skidded fiercely against the ground. "Not bad, Traphes." He looked somewhat impressed. "How on earth did you manage to use a 460 kn-level arte without getting your head blown off?"

Igzarion did not give him the pleasure of a reply as Tales raised his crossbow. "Blizzard Eruption!"

The ground underneath Gault exploded with the force of a land mine as gigantic spears of ice the size of telephone poles hurtled towards him. He raised his hand and commanded, "Bastion!" The frozen lances collided with the arcane guard and shattered in explosions of white, snow and ice shards streaking the floor but leaving Gault unharmed.

"This is rather troublesome." Gault muttered, as though he had been hit with no more than a handful of pebbles. "You cannot honestly hope to defeat me at this rate. My necromancy far overshadows your childish arcane artes."

"You wish!" Tales sheathed his crossbow and closed his eyes, swirls of frigid wind beginning to surround him. "I'm only just getting started…" He pressed his palms together, an arcane glyph enveloping them. _"I summon the forces of the merciless weather to vanquish thy enemy with thy frozen wrath! Come forth! Blizzard Sword!"_

A brilliant bolt of blue-white light began to materialize in the sniper's hand as the summoning arte took effect; when the light cleared, a thin blade of ice so pure it looked like a beam of light was resting in his hand. "Prepare yourself."

Gault raised an eyebrow, but he looked genuinely surprised. "Impressive. When did you learn the art of artifice?"

"That's for me to know…and for you to find out!" Tales roared, charging at Gault, the particles in the air freezing as his sword moved through the air. He curved his arm and spun forward in a spiral slash. "Cold Edge!"

Gault roared "Devil's Claymore!" just in time before the blade of ice hit him; there was a tremendous crash as both blades impacted, a shower of icy sparks shooting through the air.

"Iggy, _do it!" _Tales roared as he dueled furiously with Gault, the swords carving through the air like light and darkness clashing.

Igzarion was in no position to argue; he clasped his hands as a similar rune began to appear on his palms. _"From the blood and the darkness of thy enemies' souls, I summon thee to cut aside my foes with rending thrusts! Sanguine Stiletto!" _A bolt of black lightning erupted forth from his fingers as the shape of a blade began to form; when the energy cleared, he had a dagger of pitch-black and blood-red clenched in his fist. He closed his eyes and charged forward, the arcane weapon leaving a trail of dark red as it cut through the air. "Savage Blow!"

Gault managed to raise his sword in time to block the stabs only to sustain a narrow wound from Tales' weapon as it sliced the surface of his shoulder. His eyes blazed with fury as he swung the sword in a wide arc, knocking back both bowmen for a split second.

"This ends now." he snarled, darkness tingling at the tips of his fingers. "You shall meet the same fate as they have!" He turned his gaze towards the limp figures of Arundale and Arklanser.

"What the hell do you mean by that?!" both Tales and Igzarion snarled.

Gault raised his hands as evil energy pulsed forth from his palms._ "Perish within hell's embrace! Nightmare Shroud!" _

Too late, Tales and Igzarion saw that Gault's sword was now flying towards them at high speed; quickly, both raised their weapons to block, but it was no use. The black sword passed through their guards like thin air and cut through their bodies.

Both bowmen staggered to the ground in pain; although the spectral sword left no wounds upon their bodies, the place where the sword had passed through their flesh had exploded in pain. It was as if the very cells that made up their bodies were exploding; the pain was so great that it clouded their sight, bursts of light obscuring their vision.

The last thing they heard before they fell to the abyss was Gault's voice, whispering, "_Fall to the doom that lies within you…"_

_-----_

Rysdale Tales opened his eyes.

He was in a room of some sorts; yes, a room. A room, with plain white walls, unfurnished.

_What the…Where am I? _As his vision cleared,he glanced about him; the room was large, about the size of a small house, but wherever he looked, there was no door or other means of escape. He ground his teeth- he was trapped.

_Damn it! Where the hell are you, Gault? _He stood up and began to pace about the enclosure, hoping for some means of escape, but none appeared.

Just when he was about to give up, he suddenly glanced down at the floor; it was beginning to turn dark. As his eyes widened, he realized that a portal was beginning to open up in the middle of the floor- could it be a method of escape?

Before he could rush to the portal and investigate it, however, he saw a figure begin to emerge from the swirling abyss. At first, he thought it was Gault, but as it emerged further into the light, he saw that it wasn't so. The figure had long hair and a slightly curved figure- definitely female.

He tensed himself to fight. _What the hell…What is Gault doing- or what has he done?_

The figure turned towards him, and Tales' eyes widened in surprise as his glasses clattered to the floor. He felt as though he had been run over by a train- it was impossible. What was _she _doing here? It couldn't be…it just _couldn't be. _Yet there was no mistaking the face in front of him- even without his spectacles, the person in front of him was unmistakably crystal-clear.

"Really, Rysdale." Lauranthalas Tales said as she brushed a few strands of amber hair from her face. "Why are you staring at me like that? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

-----

Natalia Arundale awoke, her eyes dimly adjusting to the light.

"Wh-where am I?" she wondered out loud. She appeared to be in a room of sorts- a large, cavernous room, the walls a stark white. This place was so weird…it felt cold, unfriendly, alien. And there was no door or windows of any sort- reassuring.

She grimaced. She hadn't seen anything since those damned Balrogs had ambushed her and Arklanser near Ellinia- her heart froze as she thought of her friend. Where _was _she? Was she even alive? She shuddered and tried not to think about it.

Despite her best efforts, after several minutes of searching, she still found no method of escape, hidden or unhidden, in these walls. She shuddered even more, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. Where was Delinia- or Rysdale, or Iggy? Were they in the same situation as she was?

Her questions were waylaid by the appearance of a dark circle on the floor; as she watched in amazement, a figure began to emerge from the portal. She clenched her fist and prepared herself to fight- was this a demon or something?

However, the figure was human, its face shadowed as it stared at her. She initially thought it was Gault, but the hair was too short to be the dark bowman. And there was something trim about this figure that Gault's body didn't possess. Somehow, she felt as though she knew this person…but who was it?

The figure suddenly turned towards her, and she restrained a gasp as she looked at his face. He had a shade of delicate orange-brown hair, the same shade as hers, and his eyes were a light turquoise color, the exact same shade of her eyes. She hadn't seen his face for over a decade, and yet, she recognized it immediately, every detail aged to teenage version, but still the same as it had been those fateful thirteen years ago.

No…it couldn't be. He had been dead all these years…but here he was, standing in front of her.

"Hello, dearest sister." Llewellyn Arundale purred, his voice resounding against the emotionless walls of the room. "Have you forgotten me after all these years?"

* * *

AN: Okay, I know you are all going to kill me for the cliffy… BUT I COULDN'T HELP IT! (sob) I wanted to write more, but my parents were rambling something about me needing eight hours of sleep a day or something, I didn't really pay attention.

A lot of unanswered questions abound in this chapter, I know. Put yourselves at ease; they will be answered later on in the story. You will just have to be patient.

Is the person that Zeraion encountered in the Isle Grace? Perhaps…but then again, you never know.

I defy anyone to say the words "Welgaia scene" in reference to the ending of this chapter. Yes, I realized it too late…yes, I was too lazy (once more) to go back and change it. But as you will see when I write the next chapter, this scene was simply unavoidable, as it reveals much about the Devil Children's character that I couldn't otherwise work into the plot.

No, I haven't forgotten about Iggy and Delly. Their scenes will be in next chapter (as an incentive for you guys to review…ahem.)

I don't think I need to say it, but if you want to find out what happens next…

Pay one of those hokey-pokey psychics a fortune.

Or you could simply review, but it's your choice…

-Kal


	17. The Children of Death

**Chapter 15**

_**Warning: This author's note contains excessive swearing and anger. You have been warned. If you wish, you may push Ctrl+F on your keyboard and type in 'end scene', thus allowing yourself to escape the horror that is this rant. Thank you.**_

Author's Rant: My greatest apologies for the three-week hiatus, which is a lot longer than I'd like to go through, but I honestly don't feel good. These past weeks have been some of the worst of my life, and I've been going through a lot of personal shit in my life. I don't want to give myself any more excuses than I've already done, but here's a short list of what happened to me in the past week.

-Got three tests in one day, none of which I did well on

-Performed at Carnegie Hall

Now, I know all of you are wondering why exactly playing at Carnegie Hall might be a bad experience. True, I love sitting in a waiting room and getting constipated for over six hours before going onstage in front of gazillions of people to play for 30 seconds as much as anyone else, but that's not the point here.

You see, whilst I was changing, I left my iPod in the changing room, and forgot all about it until about an hour later. And of course, this did very little for the stress I already had.

Somebody did find it eventually, but that's not why I was steamed- the people at the concert hall obviously must have worked for NBC on the side, because my losing my iPod suddenly became the talk of the town (or concert hall, if you will). I had to endure being called the "iPod kid" for six hours in the waiting room before I could go onstage and play, and you can imagine how much stress _that _eased. (Plus, it's fair to say that I would have preferred losing it- this particular iPod had several scratches and wasn't compatible with my computer, and I would've liked a new one. But that's a tale for another time…)

-Have a huge-ass poetry journal to finish, which I haven't started yet (because I've been agonizing over finishing this chapter just for you, dear readers- so you better review) and is due tomorrow. Yay.

-Parents still pestering me about the SATs, which I am none too thrilled about.

What really served as the catalyst for this huge rant, though, is one of the big mistakes I made, which was deciding to play Maple. Now, I haven't played Maple for several months since I got hacked, and of course, I had to suffer the indignity of being told that my version of Maple was too outdated for the current patch and having to spend another few hours re-downloading it. Then, of course, GameGuard effed up, forcing me to restart the computer. Some things never change.

I don't know _why _I decided to play MapleStory on this particular day- maybe I was feeling too tired of trying to find the right lines for Iggy to say while being stabbed repeatedly, but whatever. I guess I was sort of hoping that a social change had occurred during my months of hiatus.

But no. Oh, no.

Yes, as soon as I was teleported into the mystical world of Bera, I hear people on megaphones asking each other for bum sex. Then I see level 100+'s rushing past me, commenting on what a n00b I am and suggesting things for me to stick in various orifices of my body which I don't feel like mentioning at the moment. Hello- I got _hacked, _you effing douches, and I don't have 50+ attack Casters and a 15+ attack WG and a 25+ DEX sauna and a 10+ DEX Icarus 2 and a +10 Speed shoes and 10 sets of Ilbis because I don't hack Mushmom or have rich friends who quit and leave you all their stuff! (AN: To be fair, this isn't restricted to Hermits- pros of all classes engage in this sort of childish behavior, even the Rangers.)

What really makes me so _fucking _sick (excuse my language, but nothing else conveys the emotion I want to express) is that nothing's changed, at least not for the better. I can't even stay on for one minute without one of the following happening:

1.) Being bothered by some n00b who wants money, items, training, or whatnot. Jeez. I have my life, you have yours.

2.) Being insulted by some douched-up level 100+ fucktard who thinks that just because he wastes his pocket money on NX, he's better than I am. I think these people have spent too much time trying to find out how many items one can insert into one's ass at one time, because seriously, I think it's shutting off the blood flow to their brain.

3.) Listening to some asshole drawl on a megaphone about how he knocked up 999 girls, 99 boys, all their moms, and a couple of cows. I hate retards like these who think that their sex life should be shared with the world (note that MapleStory has an intended demographic of 3rd-6th grade elementary schoolers).

4.) Somebody shouting at me to CC. You should all know what this means, and I'm effing sick of it. For the last time, THERE'S NO FUCKING LAW THAT SAYS YOU HAVE TO GET A WHOLE FUCKING CHANNEL TO YOURSELF! TAKE THAT STICK OUT OF YOUR ASS NOW!

(Okay, I'm going a little overboard here, but you can easily tell this is an issue I feel strongly about.)

5.) Hackers. You would have thought with Nexon taking over from Wizet we'd see an influx of GM's, but no. One only has to take a few steps before being hit by something that isn't supposed to be flying at 123456789 miles per hour, or watching some retard fly through the air like he/she overdosed on helium (which very well may be the case with some of these bitches). Hackers are like herpes- they're not horribly life-threatening, but they sure as hell are annoying, and we need to take steps to eradicate them from the face of the earth as soon as possible and make sure they never bother humanity again.

Seriously, this list could provide material for an entire library, but I know you're all here for the story, so I won't bother. I'm sorry if I sound a little harsh, because I know that there are good people in Maple- even more so than last time. Unfortunately, as the good rises, so does the bad, and there's more bad than good in the world. As Maplers, I think we all have the right to have a good, fun experience without somebody describing in great detail how so-and-so is a fag and then showing his anger by vaccing a couple of Balrogs into innocent bystanders. It's _disgusting, _and if you're one of the people who does that sort of thing (yes, I know you people are reading this, and I'm not afraid to say this, despite running the risk of alienating someone), you'd better drag your pussy out of your field of vision and get a frickin' life, because it'd be a lot less painful than you continuing to exist and ruin the experiences of countless others.

Now that I've got that out of my system, I must apologize because this chapter sucks poo. No, seriously. I couldn't find the time to write any decent battle scenes, so most of this is dialogue. Still, I don't have the time or patience to write it, and my poetry journal calls.

By the way, when you get to the sections entitled _ascension, gungnir, and stiletto _(you'll know them when you see them) I would suggest putting on something by Evanescence or Linkin Park. (It's just a suggestion, but I wouldn't want you to have the mood of the section spoiled because you're listening to something by, say, Aqua or Cascada.)

As always, enjoy, and review.

-Kal

(end scene)

* * *

Slowly, Traphes Igzarion woke up, his eyes dimly fluttering open.

"What…the…hell." he exhaled slowly, the syllables breaking the silence in the room like a stone through a window. He staggered to his feet, the pain from Gault's arte still diffusing somewhat through his limbs.

He raked several strands of fallen hair from his eyes and glanced around; his surroundings consisted of a small, white-walled room, much like a tiny jail cell. He ground his teeth. _This must be an illusion of some sort…Damn Gault and his mind games._

He walked over to the nearest wall and threw a punch at it, as though expecting it to crumble, but the mysterious barrier held fast, leaving the ranger with nothing except throbbing knuckles. Angrily, he then lashed into a spin kick, a roundhouse kick, even daring to throw a blast of flame at the wall, but nothing happened; the wall remained as immovable as before.

His anger slowly simmered into discontent as he glanced about the room one more time. _Where's Rysdale? Or for that matter, where are Natalia or Arklanser? _He closed his eyes. _Of course. Gault must have done the same thing to them…_

…_and knowing him, that's not a good thing._

Igzarion felt his breathing quicken and he forced himself to calm down. _What else does that bastard have planned in this funhouse of his?_

His question was answered a second later when a circle of black began to appear on the floor next to him; quickly, he tensed himself as a figure emerged from the dark abyss. _What the…It's human, probably male, as far as I can see…looks like Gault, but the figure's too tall and broad-shouldered to be him. Doesn't look like anyone I know._

He didn't realize how wrong he was.

The figure, still obscured by wisps of shadow from the portal, stood silently facing away from Igzarion, until it finally turned, a dark veil hiding its face from the ranger's.

"Who are you?!" Igzarion demanded, his Black Metus now drawn. "Show yourself!"

The figure chuckled. "As you wish, Traphes…"

Slowly, the darkness began to fall away from the figure's face, leaving it fully visible. As Igzarion watched, his mouth slowly fell open as he recognized the person before him. The dark raven hair that was so identical to his own, those cruel, unfeeling slits of eyes, and that damnable smirk that had graced his face ever since that fateful moment eleven years ago.

_It can't be…_

"…my son."

_-----_

Delinia Arklanser slowly stirred awake, her crimson pupils cutting through the atmosphere of the small room she was in.

"What…is this place?" she uttered, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. Her head ached viciously, as though she'd banged it on something, and there were scars about her figure- as though she'd been in a fight of some kind.

She winced as the memories crept back- right. The fight between her, Natalia, and the Crimson Balrogs near Lith Harbor. She'd been too preoccupied fighting the demons to even fathom why the Balrogs had been wandering about Lith Harbor in the first place, but now that she was alone, she had time to think.

_Gault. _The name echoed through her mind before she said it out loud, the syllable echoing in the small room. _Of course. _She shuddered as she thought about what had happened to Natalia- or for that matter, Tales and Iggy. Were they here, and if so, what had happened to them?

A flicker of rage passed through her as her eyes scanned the room. She didn't care what happened to her; that bastard would die by her hand.

"Come on." she whispered as her hands ran across the smooth surface of the wall. "I need a way out of here…"

There was none, so she resorted to smashing her fist against the barrier- not a good idea. There was an audible crack as pain pierced her hand from the impact, causing her to reel back and shout a few lines of profanity through the room.

As she furiously massaged her aching hand, her eyes widened as a portal of sorts began to open up in the middle of the floor. She initially thought it might be a means of escape, but that thought was defeated when she saw something begin to rise out of it.

_Aw, for fuck's sake…_She felt her pulse quicken as the thing emerged from the floor, apparently a monster of some sort. Its long, coiled body slowly crept out towards her, hissing slightly. She tensed herself to fight; it was apparently a giant snake of some sort. Well, she'd had plenty of experience with monsters before- another one wouldn't make a difference.

"Inferno!" A burst of flame exploded from her fingertips and crashed against the gigantic beast. However, as she watched in horror, the flame merely flowed around the serpent's body as though it were water; as she watched, she could see that it wasn't a living being at all. Its body was made of pure black crystal, glimmering evilly in the firelight.

"No!" she screamed, bolts of pain beginning to pierce her body as the crystal serpent turned its great head towards her. Its gaze was more painful that the sharpest blade, its vicious all-knowing eyes of crimson ripping through her. "You're- you're…_it can't be." _she sobbed. "How can you be here?"

The serpent shuffled itself along the floor as it opened its mouth, its voice a horrible hissing noise that ground fiercely against her ears.

_I am here…because I am a part of you, child. I have been part of you ever since that fateful day twelve years ago, and I will continue to be a part of you until the day you die. I am the demon, the dark crystal that thrives within your body._

Delinia writhed painfully upon the ground as the serpent's voice echoed in her head, pain greater than anything coursing through her veins as she struggled against the crystal that threatened to rip her apart.

Slowly, the serpent slithered towards her, its great crystal folds slowly constricting about her body and enveloping her in its coils. She lay there, powerless against its grasp as the pain from twelve years ago returned to her with a vengeance.

_We are one once more, child…and this time, I shall not let you escape._

-----

"Inferno!"

The bolt of flame flashed a brilliant crimson-gold in the rays of the sun, shooting through the grasses and bushes that covered the island and incinerating them in clouds of heated flame. Undaunted even as it flashed past, the flame streaked onwards and struck its target, a growling lizard-like beast, straight between the eyes. It gave a great howl of pain and rage before collapsing.

"One down…" Zeraion Phoenix exhaled and clenched the string of his Abyssal Arund. "…and a hell of a lot more to go."

The monster nearest him, a large, horse-like animal with gigantic claws on its hooves, charged towards him, its steps creating great rifts in the ground. Swiftly, Zeraion shouldered the Arund and aimed, a bolt of crackling energy materializing between his fingers. "Piercing Line!"

The lightning burst forth and struck the monster head-on as it charged towards him; it collapsed only to be replaced by a large, growling bear-like animal, its paw raised for an attack. Zeraion lowered the bow and charged forward, his outstretched arm raised. "Thunder Lance!"

The particles of mana fused to create the great glimmering spear in his hand, impaling the monster just inches away from the ranger's face. Zeraion slashed aside the creature's limp body before turning to face the rest of the island's growling inhabitants surrounding him. "Arrow Vanquisher!"

A sapphire ray of energy gathered at the limbs of his bow before exploding into the air, piercing the sky before returning to earth with a vengeance. The ray split into several shards of bright blue lightning, striking down the beasts where they stood until the forest clearing was littered with charred exoskeletons and various other remains.

Zeraion calmly sheathed the bow as a figure leapt down from a nearby tree. "Excellent, Phoenix." Rathias Gardner surveyed the carnage with a satisfied air. "Your fusion artes have greatly improved, and in such a short span of time. Have you actually been practicing for once?"

"It was Athos." Zeraion gave the Abyssal Arund a rather caustic look. "He threatened me with another nightmare if I didn't practice meditation. I guess it worked, though, because controlling the mana feels a lot easier now…"

Gardner raised an eyebrow. "Nightmare?"

"I…" The ranger had a look similar to that of a delinquent child being caught doing something not entirely honorable. "It was nothing."

"I see." the bowmaster replied, although he looked rather unconvinced. Finally, he looked away from Zeraion and into a small grove of trees. "Your mastery of lightning magic is rather impressive for your age and level. That is good, since a thorough understanding of lightning-based arcane artes is essential to becoming a bowmaster."

Zeraion was quiet for a moment. "When will that be?"

"At best, perhaps a year." Catching the look on Zeraion's face, he added, "But don't let that hinder your self-confidence. Your current abilities are many times that of a bowman your level, given your proficiency with Final Attack. However, because the spirit of the dragons is rather unforgiving when it comes to admitting prospective fourth-class trainees, I would rather send you back to Athena as an excellent ranger rather than a mangled bowmaster."

"Anything I should work on?" Zeraion asked.

Gardner closed his eyes and considered for a moment before responding. "Not exactly. Your technique and your control are good, but the problem is that you are becoming rather dependent on Asthatos in order to achieve your level of proficiency. I understand that it is important for the two of you to bond- for Athena had stressed this many times over, but if you continue to lean on his shoulders, you may find yourself rather taxed when the time comes for you to duel Isentryx."

The mention of Gault's name seemed to silence Zeraion for a moment. Finally, he sighed. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Besides…" He eyed the Abyssal Arund warily. "I'm not sure how much more of his presence I can tolerate."

Both Gardner and Athos expressed their amusement at this remark. "You must be tired." the bowmaster finally replied after some chuckling. "May I suggest a swim in the waterfall's tide pool? It will do you much good."

"Yeah." Zeraion slid the bow back into his quiver as they walked back towards the waterfall. However, he suddenly stopped. "Wait."

Gardner paused as well. "Yes, Phoenix?"

"Is there anyone else on this island besides us?"

"Not that I know of at the moment." Gardner seemed somewhat surprised at the question. "Why do you ask?"

"I…" Zeraion was about to answer, but something told him he would do better to not bring up the issue. "Nothing. I just wondered."

Gardner shook his head, his ponytail drifting with the motion. "Zeraion, if something troubles you, do not hesitate to share your suspicions. It will not help our cause in any way if you are distracted from your studies."

"Yeah, I know." Zeraion muttered, his gaze turning away from the bowmaster.

For the third time, Rathias Gardner raised his eyebrow in surprise, but he said nothing.

-----

"Wolfen?!"

"Ark! You there?!"

"Wolfen, if the Tauros haven't killed you by now, I will!" Dariel Marron roared, wildly brandishing his Heaven's Gate through the trees.

Ryden looked dryly at his companion. "That'll definitely bring him up."

The Paladin's gaze cut through the forest. "No, but it'll draw attention away from him."

"Good point. There's nothing I love better than being swarmed with bloodthirsty monsters after dark." Ryden replied, cleaning the edge of his sword with his dragon-skin gloves. "You wouldn't happen to have a map somewhere, would you?"

"No." The swordsmen passed another large tree trunk, crisscrossed with scars. Ryden ran his fingers over the bark before swearing. "Damn it. We've passed this tree before. I can tell by the slash marks…"

Marron wryly eyed the tree before raising his sword and rending the trunk into a pile of brushwood and bark. "Problem solved."

Ryden rumpled his hair. "Make all the jokes you want, Dariel, but we are stuck in the middle of a 500 square-mile forest looking for an axeman in a haystack. Now seriously, do you have any ideas?"

"Go back to Elaesia." Marron replied, completely seriously.

"Ascion would kill us." came the reply.

"I was kidding." he replied. "Lighten up."

Ryden froze. "Did…you actually make a joke?"

"Did I give you any reason to believe that I did?" Marron said bluntly, abruptly turning away and walking into a patch of shrub.

Ryden shook his head, following after the Paladin. "Idiot."

The two swordsmen continued walking for some time, their greaves crunching against the dry material of the forest floor.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Ryden asked.

"Well…" Marron aimlessly ran his fingers along the trunk of a nearby tree, powdery flakes of green crumbling from the bark. "Lichens tend to grow away from sunlight, and the sun usually rises from the southeast side of the sky. So I would say we're in the northwest part of Sleepywood about now, at least."

"How do you know this stuff?" Ryden asked, somewhat surprised.

"I…picked up a few things in the Isle of Ascension." Marron replied shortly.

"Is finding a lost axeman one of them?" Ryden muttered.

Marron darkly brushed aside the question and carved a makeshift map of the forest into the bark with his Heaven's Gate. "Meteon E'traia is at the exact center of Sleepywood, which is here." He tapped the flat of the blade against the tree. "And Henesys borders Sleepywood in its west side, which is where we entered from." He moved the sword to the left. "Now, we're somewhere here." He raised the edge of the blade and cut a small incision in the wood. "So that would mean…" He completed the makeshift graph by drawing a triangle through Henesys and Meteon E'traia. "Wolfen has to be somewhere in this region." he finished, indicating the vectors in the bark.

Ryden calmly eyed the picture in the moonlight. "Rocket science, huh, Dariel?"

"It's just common sense." He shrugged and crumbled the bark in his fingers. "Of course, it's also not very accurate, seeing as how an able-bodied warrior like him could easily travel a few miles in any direction…but it's all we have to go on." He sighed. "We'll backtrack a little down that way." He pointed his sword behind them, into a none-too-inviting grove of trees.

Ryden shrugged. "What if there are Tauros on duty?"

"Well, then…" The Paladin made a violent gesture in midair, flecks of ice shining on his sword. "Too bad for them."

"Heh."

-----

The moon was shining high above the forest of Sleepywood, its rays glinting peacefully among the trees- a rare scene of peace in a world otherwise torn by war. The great trees bowed slowly in the wind that was beginning to pick up, their great leaves fluttering in the gentle breeze.

Suddenly, a series of shadows flitted across the branches, unnoticed by any except the rays of the moon. The light reflected off the figures for a precious second before they melted back into the night, their footsteps flying on the wind.

"Hm." The apparent leader, her figure covered by a long gown, a quiver, and a _daisho _belt, paused on the edge of a branch, dangerously dipping towards the ground. "Is this sector of the forest clear?"

The figure next to it made a short bow. "Yes, Lady Isalden."

"Excellent." Lisande Isalden unsheathed her curved _wakizashi _blade and delicately carved a small insignia on its surface. "How many more miles must we scout?"

"Approximately two hundred, my lady."

"Very well." She shook her head, her delicate raven-black hair rippling about her figure like water. Her sky-blue eyes pierced deftly through the darkness, searching for any signs of life. "Come. To the west." she said, pointing her sword into the expanse of dark green.

"Yes." Her retainers bowed shortly before following after her into the forest.

They dashed past countless trees into the depths of Sleeypwood; as they flashed past, Lisande noted the slash marks dotting the trees. Her eyes narrowed- someone, or something, was definitely here.

Although she refused to show it, she nervously unsheathed her wakizashi and held it aloft, preparing to strike at any moment. Behind her, her servants followed suit, either drawing their own blades or stringing their bows.

"Demons…have been here." she uttered softly, her sapphire eyes scanning the scarred landscape. "They may still lurk here. Stay alert."

At these words, as if on cue, a large group of Taurospears exploded forth from the trees, their sharp eyes scanning the landscape. Lisande and her retainers watched, stunned, as the Taurospears scrutinized them.

"_What are they?" _one sniffed.

"_Elves, I would assume." _another shrugged, shouldering its spear. "_It would be best to leave them alone; they are not worth our time."_

_"Yes. We would be better off looking for those three humans that were here some time ago." _The Taurospears turned to leave, the jarring noise of their armor resounding through the landscape.

Lisande's stunned expression did not fade. What on earth were Taurospears doing in the forest- weren't they supposed to live in the Dungeon? And why hadn't they bothered with her- apparently, a bunch of humans were more important to them than a troop of elven scouts?

She was determined to find out what was going on. Her surprised expression slowly became one of calm. "Come. Let us follow them." she uttered, her sword glinting in the moonlight.

One of her servants balked slightly. "My lady, following a small contingent of demons? I am not entirely certain it would be best for you to-"

"I am not a child anymore, Reine." Lisande replied coolly, the edge of her dagger glinting in the moonlight.

"Your mother would be beside herself if you were hurt in any way, milady." Reine replied, refusing to be intimidated.

"I am past caring for my mother." Lisande shook her head and dove into the forest, her sword raised. "Now, come on!" she called as she disappeared into the trees.

Reine shook his head and nodded to his fellow comrades. "Come along." They followed her into the thicket, their weapons flashing in the dim forest.

The Taurospears turned around to see the dark-haired girl from before charging towards them, her sword raised. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I won't allow you to go rampaging through our forest!" With an almighty roar, she lunged forward, catching one of the demons in the chest. It let out a howl of pain as blood began to ooze from its armor.

"_You…harlot!" _the Taurospear roared in fury as it lunged for her. "_Prepare to-"_

Reine quickly strung his longbow and nocked an arrow to it; the great shaft flew forth before catching the Taurospear in the throat. Swiftly, Lisande untangled herself from the demon's grasp and sheathed her shortsword, taking her bow from her quiver. "Strafe!" She unleashed four arrows in quick succession from the weapon, bringing down a brace of the demons.

"_Damn it!" _The Taurospears raised their lances and aimed them at the elves, muttering a spell; bolts of lightning erupted forth from the ground, catching the elves in its wake. There were roars of pain as the arte struck its mark. Grinding her teeth, Lisande nocked an arrow to her bow, white flames leaping from its tip. "Inferno!"

The fiery arrow soared into the air before impacting against the demons, catching them in a wave of white flame. They fell in agony only to be replaced by more demons, launching themselves at her; swiftly, Lisande twirled the bow about her wrist and charged. "Power Knock-Back!"

The nearest Taurospear was thrown backwards with a loud crunch as it crashed into one of its comrades. Quickly, Lisande dodged the point of a spear as it hurtled towards her and unsheathed her blade. "Fusaichi Stab!"

The edge of the dagger glowed with energy before ripping through the Taurospear's armor like paper; it gave a shudder before dropping limply to the ground. Lisande whirled around and lashed out with a spin kick to the nearest demon, knocking it backwards and finishing in a combat stance.

She didn't see the Jr. Balrog looming behind her; with a roar, it seized her from behind and lifted her into the air. The elves raised their bows but stopped when they saw Lisande in its clutches.

"_Move any closer and the girl dies." _the Balrog snarled, holding a razor-sharp claw to her throat.

Suddenly, a voice roared, "Angel Pyre!"

Lisande had a moment's warning before bolts of light ripped forth from the ground underneath her feet, spearing the demon that held her in several places. It gave a bloody howl before dropping to the ground with a loud thud. Wincing, she crawled out from underneath the Balrog's corpse to look at her benefactor; a rather wild-raven haired warrior, a great bloodstained axe slung over his back and his armor rent with several slash marks.

"You're-" Lisande ran to the axeman, panting; he looked back up at her. "You're human!"

"Yes…I am." he winced, before giving her a wolfish grin. "What of it?"

"You…" She touched his armor. "You're wounded…"

"How long did it take you to notice that?" he replied, somewhat sarcastically.

"I…" Lisande shook her head. "It matters not. We can bring you back to Galiaen. What's…" She hesitated for a second. "What's your name?"

"Ark…" He winced before raking a handful of slightly bloody hair out of his face and turning away from her. "Ark Wolfen."

-----

Miles away, Keiga Seles calmly sketched battle tactics on a scrap of parchment.

"Mm." The Dark Knight casually drew a line across the slightly yellowed paper, the nib of the pen cutting through the fibers. "I suppose…yes, but…" His muttering slowly faded as he thoughtfully prodded the paper with the writing implement. "If we were to send…no, that's not it…"

Behind him, Athena and Sitting Bull peeked in the door, their eyes riveted on the spearman as he carefully noted his observations.

"What…is he doing?" the bowmistress murmured, in a voice so low that only Sitting Bull could hear.

The leader of the warriors sighed. "I would rather not tell you."

"That definitely culled my curiosity." she replied dryly.

Seles sighed frustratedly and crumpled the parchment forcibly in his hand, flinging it behind him towards the door. It missed Athena's face by two inches. "Damn!" he swore, unnaturally loudly, before taking up the quill again.

"I've never seen him like this before." Athena whispered in a hush.

"As well you shouldn't." The leader of the warriors inclined his head slightly. "He is one of the last warriors I can truly respect. It is sad that he should be marred with such tragedy…"

Seles continued to write upon the paper, his scribbling becoming slightly erratic, as though there was an electric shock going through his body. He slowly ground his teeth as the tip of the pen ripped through the paper. "No…no…_damn it!" _he roared, flinging the paper away yet again. "That won't work!"

Athena winced as the Dark Knight suddenly let loose a stream of profanity, his fists slamming the table so that it threatened to break. His swearing rose to a fever pitch as his tone became almost…hysterical. And…could it be…was he…actually _crying?_

Suddenly, he sunk back into his chair as though from a trance, his head falling onto the table with a thud. His voice floated out from underneath his auburn locks, almost too softly to be heard.

"Aslan…"

Athena shook her head sharply. "Enough. I can't bear to see him like this- and especially not when Elaesia needs one of its strongest fighters. What ails him?"

"If you really must know…" Sitting Bull's voice dropped to a whisper. "Ever since Aslan rejected him, he became slightly schizophrenic. It is a shame, as it has greatly restricted his former power. It is interesting…he has not had an episode for years. I suppose sending his son to Sleepywood may have triggered-"

The chieftain did not finish his sentence, as Athena pushed open the door and approached Seles with a steely glare. "Keiga?"

Seles blinked and looked up at the bowmistress as though from a deep sleep, all traces of his mental episode seemingly gone as he reverted to his normal placid mood. "Yes, Athena?"

"Is everything all right?" Athena said gently, laying a hand on the knight's shoulder. "You seem rather troubled."

"That would be an understatement." Seles muttered darkly to himself, but he changed tack at the speed of light. "No, Athena. I'm perfectly fine. If you must know, I was just agonizing over some combat tactics…just in case Isentryx should take it upon himself to launch another sneak attack upon us."

Athena sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "You should not be treating yourself like this. It would be a poor lookout if the greatest Dark Knight ever to roam this world died of an anxiety attack."

Strangely enough, Seles took dry humor at the comment. "Thank you, Athena. I'll remember that the next time I decide to see to it that our makeshift base needs some modicum of defense."

"Keiga!" Athena snapped abruptly, causing the Dark Knight to look up. "Believe me, I can understand what you are going through…but I will not have you looking weak at a time like this!"

"What else would you have me do?!" Seles shouted back, losing his temper as well. "If you understand so perfectly what I must endure, then would it be too much of a burden for you to kindly leave me be?"

"I _care _about you!" Athena roared back. "You and Rathias are two of the strongest beings on earth at this moment- and it is your duty to train Zeraion and Aslan to fulfill their roles in the Judgment! Do you realize what would happen if you-"

There was an animalistic noise from Seles and Athena cut herself short, seeing the Dark Knight spasm slightly. "Keiga?" she asked, somewhat timidly, fearing she might have triggered another seizure. "Are you-"

Seles slumped into the chair. "Yes, Athena, I'm fine." he said emotionlessly, although the bowmistress knew perfectly well he wasn't. "It was just-"

"Yes?" Athena said expectantly.

Seles exhaled sharply. "I would have liked to say good-bye to Dariel before he left. That's all."

"Is that it?" Athena raised an eyebrow. "I expected more from you…"

"It is of no consequence." Seles sighed and ran his knuckles along the grain of the table. "What does it matter, anyway?" His expression became slightly pensive. "It's not like I expected him to accept me after all these years…"

"You tried." Athena said, in a slightly gentler tone. "It's the least you could do as a father."

"Perhaps." Seles replied, nodding as he ran his fingers through his hair. "But then again, nothing is too good for one's children…no amount of praise or material gifts…not even an arm or leg, perhaps, Athena?" He gave the bowmistress a genteel smile and turned to leave.

Athena's eyes balefully rested upon the Dark Knight as he stood up and walked towards the door, his left arm dangling at his side.

_Wait…Could it be? _Athena's mind raced as she realized the implications of Seles' last phrase.

…_not even an arm or leg, perhaps?_

"No!" Athena gasped in a hushed voice. "You…you couldn't!"

"I couldn't _what, _exactly?" Seles replied in a caustic tone.

"You didn't…it's not possible." Athena whispered, her voice soft in the room. "You couldn't have…"

Seles turned away from Athena, his face bowed to the ground as his auburn hair dangled past his shoulders.

"Was it my fault he was born without the use of his arm…?" Seles whispered softly, speaking as though the bowmistress was not in the room.

"You…" Athena took a deep breath to steady herself. "You never lost your arm at Zakum Altar. You lied to your son _twice!"_

"I don't deny that." Seles said, his gaze flickering back to the incredulous elf. "But to be honest…do you think he really would have believed me if I had told him?"

"I don't believe it." Athena uttered, slumping into Seles' now-vacated seat. "So this was why…"

"I betrayed him once already, Athena." Seles remarked in a leaden tone. "He would have had no reason to believe me a second time, and for what it's worth, he's better off not knowing."

"Keiga, you can't say that." Athena said, trying to regain her own composure. "He's your son!"

"That…" Seles' eyes rose to meet Athena's before he looked away. "…is of no importance."

Athena exhaled deeply and closed her eyes as the Dark Knight turned to leave.

"You _will _have to tell him someday." she whispered, her voice resonating throughout the room.

Seles paused and turned to face Athena, his eyes a hundred times more silent and steely than hers ever had been, and the bowmistress felt unnerved for once in her life as she gazed into the Dark Knight's face.

"I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, Athena," he said, in an explicitly sober tone, "but helping my son isn't one of them."

He turned around and left the room, and as Athena remembered the icy cold glare from his eyes, she closed her own and tried her hardest not to shudder.

-----

_ascension_

"Well, Rysdale?" The amber-haired woman cocked an eyebrow at her stunned brother. "I thought you'd be happy to see me…"

Rysdale Tales did not reply as he stared at the figure of his older sister with an amazed expression. What on earth was _she _doing here, right in front of him, at a time like this?

"Pick up your glasses. They're on the ground." she said bluntly, indicating the fallen lenses resting on the floor.

As if in a trance, he bent down and picked the silvered-steel spectacles from the nondescript white floor and slipped them on. Strangely enough, the figure of his sister only grew clearer as the glass shadowed his pupils.

"It…it can't be you." he whispered, truly stunned for the first time in his life.

"Who says it isn't, Rysdale?" Laura tossed her hair behind her back and gave her brother a patronizing stare, her cool blue pupils cutting through him sharper than any blade.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked her, more to reassure himself than anything else. "I hadn't expected to see you in a place like this…"

She closed her eyes, as though in thought, and time seemed to freeze for the sniper as he waited for his sibling to answer. When none came, he whispered, "Answer me…sister."

She opened her eyes and smiled, as if she had found a suitable reply, but declined to speak. Tales felt his insides shift uncomfortably as she suddenly walked towards him, her footsteps echoing unnaturally loudly in the room.

She touched a finger to his cheek- a finger made of _real _flesh and blood in that precious second- and delicately traced the other fingers of her hand down his face and past his neck. Before he could react, her arms slowly wound themselves about his body and drew him in a warm embrace, the very same one from a decade and a half ago.

He knew the woman in front of him was an illusion, created from electrical sparks that flew across the synapses in his brain…

…but deep inside his heart, he wanted _so badly _to believe otherwise.

Time froze once more as her fingers carefully caressed his back, providing solace to him within the walls of Gault's cruel prison. For once in his life, he no longer cared about the rules of the world- the rules that said that death and time were absolute.

All he cared about was being with his beloved sister once more.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she unwound her arms from his body and stared piercingly into his eyes. "Is that a good enough answer for you?"

Tales did not reply as the warmth of the illusion faded, leaving him to deal with the cold, unfeeling walls of his virtual prison once more…the harshness of a world that simply didn't care.

He shook his head and adjusted his glasses on his face, as if hoping that doing so would help clear his mind of the virtual tug-of-war that was exploding in his brain- but to no avail. Nevertheless, given the situation, he was smart enough to keep a respectful distance from…the figure of his sister.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, staring directly at her and trying not to think of her as the person she once was. "You have to tell me, Laura. Explain this to me. I need to know now…"

"Or what?" she replied, gently fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Or else…" He forced himself to swallow past the gigantic obstruction in his throat. "…or else Elaesia's done for."

Laura closed her eyes and chuckled. "Well. That's interesting."

"How so?" he retorted, although behind the calm expression of his glasses, he was slightly unnerved at her words- even if she was an illusion, there was still a part of him that refused to believe that the woman in front of him was a fake.

"Honestly, Rysdale." She calmly closed her eyes and smiled, but slightly more darkly this time. "I can't remember the first time you cared about anyone except yourself."

The remark was like a cold slap in the face to Rysdale- he could not imagine Laura, of all people, being the one to say this to him- he felt his hands clench into fists. "What do you mean?" he asked, in a slightly hard voice.

Laura shook her head. "Rysdale, look at yourself. Do you realize what you are- what you've become? I tried to save you from your fate, but…" She shook her head once more, her amber locks cascading about her figure like water. "It seems I was too late."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" he asked her, the first traces of uncertainty beginning to creep into his voice. "Are…are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be?" She raised her head to gaze into her brother's eyes. "Not that you really cared, though, did you, dear brother?"

"What-"

"You were always like this, Rysdale." she said, in a slightly sharper tone. "You always hid from me since that day. You never showed your true feelings to me- or to anyone else, for that matter." She turned away from him, the gesture that hurt him the most. "Ever since you started wearing those spectacles, you weren't my brother anymore. You were just another child in my brother's clothes."

"I…" He didn't know which hurt more, her words or the fact that it was she who was saying them to him. Even if it was an illusion…it still pained him to hear, because…

…deep inside, he knew it was true.

"Laura, I'm sorry." he said, speaking truthfully to her- perhaps more so than he had ever been to anyone in his life. "I was six years old, I didn't know any better! I…I wore those glasses because they were Dad's!" he shouted, tearing them off his face and brandishing them at her.

"Rysdale…please tell me." she uttered softly. "Did I ever mean anything to you?"

"How can you say something like that? Of course!" He brushed aside his bangs and stared at her. "Y…you were my sister! I loved you! What could make you say something like that?!"

"Then why…did you always ignore me?" she asked him plaintively, her voice bearing no malice, only a lingering sadness. "Every time I tried to talk to you, you would turn away from me like I had a disease. It was like…you were _ashamed _of me. Because I was…a lycanthrope."

He closed his eyes, a tear leaking from underneath the lids. "Laura…That's…That's not true!"

"If that's not the truth, dear brother…" She raised her eyes to gaze into his. "Then what is?"

He couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Laura, believe me." he finally managed to say, his voice losing its edge. "I cared about you, I honestly did. But…the reason I always left you alone wasn't because I hated you, or because I was ashamed of you. It was because I wanted to be alone myself."

"Exactly!" Her voice cut through the air like a javelin. "You wanted to be alone! You, with your delusions of grandeur, wallowing in your own self-pity! Did you ever care about how I felt, Rysdale- did you ever care that I needed a brother?"

"They were my parents, Laura!" the sniper shouted back, half angrily and half in regret. "I watched them die with my own eyes! How would you feel after something like that?!"

"They were my parents too, you know!" Her left hand briefly clenched into a fist. "And if it had been me, I would have spent more time with you! You were the only family I had left and you treated me like an outsider!"

"Laura…sis…I…" He didn't know what else to say, because there was simply nothing more.

"You were _heartless." _she whispered softly, staring at him. "You were a devil child, Rysdale. A devil child who didn't understand the meaning of love- of sympathy. That's all you were- a doll in my brother's clothes! I would never have wanted a brother like you!"

At that precise moment, his world shattered.

…_like frosted rifts of ice spiraling across the surface of a broken window…_

He sunk to his knees, waves of emotion and regret soaking into him for what seemed like the first time in his life. The mask that he had hid behind for so long had been rent into shards of the cruel shadows that had once been…him.

…_a devil child who didn't understand the meaning of love or sympathy…_

"They noticed, didn't they, Rysdale?" Laura said, her voice acquiring a unusually caustic edge. "Your _friends."_

_"_What are you…talking about?" he whimpered, once more the scared, innocent child that he had been fifteen years ago in a lonely cave in El Nath.

"The poor people you associated with." The corners of her lips forced themselves upwards in a cruel smile. "The girl born from the heart of a demon…The boy with an arcane chamber through his chest…The girl who lost her heart to an unfeeling crystal…"

"They…were my _friends!" _he snarled back at her.

"Perhaps…" She smiled and closed her eyes, her expression completely passive. "But…were you _their _friend?"

"What are you talking about?" he replied in an icy tone. "I cared about them- perhaps more so than anyone else."

"Of course you did." Laura's smile did not falter. "Just like you cared for Traphes Igzarion."

"Iggy…" he whispered, his voice unnaturally quiet in the room.

"He liked you." Laura said flatly, folding her arms across her chest. "All he ever wanted was a friend, Rysdale- someone he could look to for comfort and solace. He suffered more than you did- much more, and yet, he still couldn't hold a candle to you, could he, brother?"

"Iggy was different!" he roared back. "He was a misanthrope- he never cared about anyone except himself!"

"Ah." She opened her eyes, her gaze cutting through him like paper. "Would he have been that way if he had never met you?"

"He-"

"It was a pity." Laura shook her head, her hair flowing past her waist. "You could have saved him, Rysdale. You could have saved him from himself, saved him from the nervous wreck he was. You could have been a much better friend to him than that demon stuck in his chest."

Her cruel smile hurt him more than anything else. He could hear no more; he clenched himself tighter upon the floor, waiting for it to just stop.

"But…it never happened like that, did it, brother?"

"Stop it!" The words came out before he could stop them, tumbling out like leaves riding a river current.

"Why should I?" Her eyes dangerously flashed before they came to rest on him, their deadly gaze locked onto him like a tiger stalking his prey. "You never stopped hating me. Hating them- those you call your friends."

"Laura…" He clenched his fists as tears began to stream from underneath his eyelids.

"_I'm sorry…!"_

And unlike all the other times he had said it, this time, it was real- as real as the guilt and the self-pity that was crushing him from within.

"You were never my brother, Rysdale." she snarled, a feral look crossing her face. He had a second's warning before something charged at him, razor-sharp blades raking across his shoulder, and as he rolled out of the way to look at her, he realized that his sister was gone, replaced by a gigantic lycanthrope, its silver fur streaked with shades of amber as its iron-black claws dripped with fresh blood.

"_Does this seem familiar?" _the werewolf grunted in a harsh, yet somehow intelligible voice, and Tales suddenly felt a rush of cold air whip across his face. Opening his eyes, he realized that the walls of his prison had melted away- to be replaced by mountains of snow and ice, trees dotting the landscape as snowflakes whirled through the air, obscuring the figure of the wolf that lay several meters from him.

"_Now…I'm going to do what I should have done fifteen years ago." _she snarled, as she advanced towards him, a plume of orange flame glimmering at the tips of her claws. "_Farewell, brother."_

-----

_gungnir_

She stared in shock at the figure of her brother, illuminated against the bleak walls of the room she was in.

Illusion or not, it felt so real…despite the fact that about ninety percent of her mind was telling her to stay the hell away from this…this _thing _that resembled her long-dead twin brother, there were still vestiges of her mind that told her he was real.

…At least, that's what she _wanted _herself to believe.

"You seem rather surprised to see me, Natalia." Llewellyn said, calmly eyeing his sister with a strange air. "Is my appearance really that much of a shock to you?"

"I…" She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "I haven't seen you in thirteen years! What did you expect?"

"I see. Three and ten years is quite a long span of time, indeed." He studied the walls around them, as though he were looking for something. When his eyes came back to rest on her, they were thoughtful and calculating.

"You've changed." he finally said, his tone as calm and placid as ever.

"As have you." she admitted, glancing his figure over. It was hard to believe that the five year-old boy she had grown up with as a child was really standing in front of her, _talking _to her…

…being with her.

There were so many things that she wanted to say, to tell him how much she had missed him, how much she loved him, but her words died in the cool, airless atmosphere of the blank-walled room.

Preferring to let nature take its course, she hung back and waited for him to do something…anything. But he merely remained as stoic and impassive as ever, casually glancing at the walls as though there was something of interest written on them.

The seconds and minutes flowed past Natalia like a river's curves around a stone, her eyes riveted on her brother as she searched for the right words to say. She was acutely aware of every moment as it flew past her, her heartbeat keeping time with the seconds as she struggled to express herself.

She wanted to believe he was an illusion, but there was the voice in the back of her head that refused to admit otherwise. She felt as though if she couldn't say anything, then he would disappear…as he had thirteen years ago.

The problem was, what do you say to someone you know is dead?

"I've missed you." she said abruptly, her turquoise-shaded pupils dilating a little. It was a blunt and concise statement, but it was true.

He closed his eyes and then opened them again. "Of course. I wouldn't have expected anything less."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked him dryly- but cautiously- even though this was her brother, she still wasn't going to take any chances where Gault's illusions were concerned.

"Nothing, Natalia. Nothing at all." Llewellyn calmly studied his sister for a moment before turning his placid gaze to the walls once more. "After all, you were always a very sweet child. Mother used to call you her little ray of sunshine."

She blinked, uncertain of whether he was complimenting or insulting her, or perhaps a bittersweet mixture of them both. "It is ironic, though, considering the circumstances of our birth, that she said that. Don't you think?"

"A mother's love for her children is blind." Natalia retorted sharply. Llewellyn raised an eyebrow amusedly at her comment.

"Very perceptive, dearest sister." He folded his arms across his chest. "How long have you been telling yourself that?"

Natalia felt her insides clench as she gazed at her brother. "Ever since we were born."

"Optimistic as always, I see." Llewellyn noted with a touch of poisoned sweetness in his voice. He eased his hands into his pockets. "It was to be expected, after all. In a world where everyone hated us, you extended the hand of love and friendship to everyone about you."

"Was that a bad thing?" she found herself replying. "The fact that I was half-demon never made me less susceptible to emotion."

"Frankly, I didn't know what to make of it." her brother admitted, kneading his hands together in midair. "It was a contest between loving you and hating you for it, I suppose. I wouldn't deny the benefits of friendship, but at the same time, you do realize that not everyone is a friend."

"Yes, I know." she said, a streak of impatience beginning to find its way into her tone. "You told me that many times over. You were the one who told me not to associate with anyone."

"I cared about you, Natalia." Llewellyn said simply. "Can you honestly blame me for being concerned about your welfare? You know as well as I do that there were plenty of people who would have like to stick knives in our backs as soon as they were turned."

"I wasn't aware that my welfare required your concern." Natalia replied, rather dimly.

He made an expression of mock dismay. "You jest." His mood became slightly cheerful once more. "Only four years, and you were already acting like what most parents can't stand in teenagers."

"Well, what about you?" Natalia retorted, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "If I recall, you were socially paranoid when we were children. You wouldn't let me talk to anyone, not even the neighborhood children. You acted as though everyone had a knife behind their backs…"

"I don't believe it." He raised an eyebrow in playful disbelief. "Are you going so far as to insinuate that you were better off without me?"

"Of course not!" Natalia clenched a fist. "I loved you, Llewellyn, but you could never trust anyone! You were so reclusive, and I wanted to help you, so I tried to make _friends _for you!"

At these words, Llewellyn's face hardened for a split second before he spoke. "Of course you did…Natalia." he said, pronouncing his sister's name carefully as though it were a dirty swearword. "It was your greatest quality…and your greatest fault."

"What are you talking about…brother?" Natalia said, slightly apprehensive.

"You were so naïve." he snarled, his voice becoming harsh. "I tried to protect you, Natalia. You may not have cared that we were the children of Razier himself, but I did. Everyone else on Bera did. Did you ever once consider the possibility that something could happen to you- to us?"

"What are you trying to imply?" she gasped, a bead of nervous sweat beginning to trickle down her neck.

"Dearest sister, have you ever stopped to wonder just how exactly we were conceived?" He cast a harsh glare at her, causing her to quail slightly. "That accursed demon _defiled _our mother, and she had had every right to get rid of us."

"But she didn't." Natalia regained her courage enough to stare down her brother. "She always loved us no matter who our father was."

He paused slightly. "Yes…she did. Didn't she?" He smiled, a cruel grin that lit up his face and was eerily reminiscent of Gault. "She would only have wanted the best for us, Natalia, and you know that as well as I do. She wanted us to be safe."

Natalia watched nervously as Llewellyn began to pace impatiently around the room, as though there was something on his mind he wanted to speak.

"But you…" He raised a hand and pointed his index finger accusingly at her. "You just had to take that for granted, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?!" she shouted, now totally convinced that something was definitely wrong.

"_You, _sister." he repeated, unnervingly. "It was you who brought about our downfall- you who prevented us from enjoying eternal bliss. You, with your childish naivete and your blind schemes, you were the bane of our existence."

"I…" Natalia clenched her hands into fists- she wasn't about to put up with this bullshit any longer, but as she prepared to charge forward, something held her back.

She could not tell whether it was her brother's presence, accusing her of deeds past reparation, or whether it was simply the depths of her own intrinsic mind collapsing upon itself in this realm of shadows.

"No one knew of our existence, Natalia." he said, his voice becoming sharper by the second. "No one was ever supposed to know. We were the children of death, the offspring of the devil himself. I could have lived with that- both of us could, but you, in your attempt to help us, ended up inadvertently destroying us."

His gaze narrowed in a final, deadly glare. "Tell me, dear sister…How do you think the secret got out in the first place?"

"No!" Natalia clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. "You can't possibly mean…"

"What else _could _I mean?" he asked in a rhetoric voice of cold steel. "It was your hand that was the hand of friendship, and ultimately, also the hand that ended up stabbing me through the heart."

"_Llewellyn!" _Natalia fell to her knees and broke down sobbing. "I…I…"

"You can cry as many tears as you want, _dear sister," _he snarled cruelly, "but you will never be able to escape who you are. You are death's daughter, and no matter how much you wish otherwise, everything you touch ends up broken."

"That's not true!" Natalia shouted at him in a mixture of anger and sorrow, as tears streamed down her face. "M-my friends…they…"

"Ah, yes, your _friends." _Llewellyn laughed in a poisonous tone. "The three children almost as unfortunate as you…and tell me, how well did they fare when you tried to _help_ them?"

"I…"

"The boy whose sister was afflicted with lycanthropy. Pray tell me, what happened to _her_?"

"That…" Natalia sobbed upon the ground, unable to think of anything to say. "That was…"

"The boy," her brother went on relentlessly, "with a demon bound inside him. The girl with the dark crystal who lost her soul. Were they any better off after being touched by you, _sister_?"

…_her tears fell like crimson raindrops as life turned its back on her…_

This was what hurt most of all- the fact that her brother, the very same one she'd been longing to see once more, was now blaming _her _for the death she had once cried for.

But what made it worse, if that were even possible, was that she couldn't even take the blame off her own shoulders; she could lie to herself as much as she wanted about Llewellyn's death, but that wouldn't change anything.

In more ways than one, she was her brother's killer, and her own worst fear.

…_the daughter of death that couldn't save anyone, not even herself…_

"Yes, Natalia." Llewellyn snarled as she lay limply upon the ground. "How does it feel to experience the pain of those you've touched- those that you've destroyed?"

She did not reply as she stared at him, her vision slipping out of focus as she struggled to get through the nightmare she was in.

"Don't worry, dear sister…" he purred to her, as she lay painfully upon the ground. "I will do you a favor and end your torture right now, as you did mine." He closed his eyes and murmured something under his breath.

The walls and floor suddenly shifted to life as though there was a light earthquake, and Natalia leapt to her feet and stared in horror; the walls of the room had suddenly grown into razor-sharp foot-long spikes, and the walls were slowly but surely hemming themselves in upon her.

As she watched in horror, Llewellyn closed his eyes and uttered an incantation, and the slender handle of a gigantic silver polearm was suddenly clenched in his fist, its great crescent blade bearing upon Natalia like the jaws of a gigantic monster.

"_Farewell…dear sister." _he uttered for the last time, as he lowered the head of the weapon and charged towards her.

-----

Zeraion Phoenix blinked.

"Zeraion." Rathias Gardner calmly eyed his protégé from the side of the forest. "Am I to assume by the disturbance in your demeanor that you've either been able to detect at least one mana current, or have you just got another itch?"

Zeraion rolled his eyes briefly before responding, "Neither. I felt something strange- like a slight twinge all over myself, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't an itch. It felt like I was stung in the heart."

Gardner briefly considered the response before saying, "Well, that is good. It is a start, at least, that you are able to at least detect the basic pattern of the world's mana flow, and for one who is not a magician, that is no small feat. However, I'm afraid that feeling light mana burn won't allow you to cast potent arcane artes in battle."

Zeraion was about to reply smartly, but held off from doing so. Instead, he asked, "What's the difference between an arcane arte and an elemental arte- and for that matter, how many kinds of artes are there?"

Gardner raised an eyebrow amusedly. "I would not have expected such a question from you, Phoenix. What you ask is the territory of archmages, and I am certainly not one…however, for your benefit, I will make this as painless as possible." He grinned slightly (which Zeraion ignored) before answering.

"There are various types of artes one can perform that utilize mana. However, the most prominent among them are arcane, elemental, summoning, strike and necromantic artes. Summoning, which you are familiar with by now, uses mana to either displace particles to create an object or transport them across distances, the latter of which requires more force.

"An elemental arte is the most basic of spells, one that is based upon one of the seven base elements; fire, water, ice, earth, lightning, wind, light. Fire Arrow and Thunderbolt are examples of such spells. Arcane artes are stronger versions of elemental artes, but what sets them apart from elemental artes is that they usually require the use of more than one element- for example, Heavenlapse uses both light and lightning elementals.

"Strike artes are spells that are cast in conjunction with a melee attack; because of this, they usually require less mana than an elemental or arcane arte. Power Strike and Slash Blast are examples of such techniques, as well as the White Knight's elemental abilities. Lastly, necromantic artes, which we are unfortunately all too familiar with, use the eighth element of darkness. There are also several subdivisions of the above, such as healing, gravity, and ether artes, which I won't bore you with."

The ranger remained silent after this long explanation; Gardner smiled snidely. "Something the matter, Phoenix?"

"Remind me to think twice before asking you a question from now on." the ranger muttered darkly, running a hand across his forehead.

"You never fail to amuse me, Zeraion." the bowmaster noted calmly before briskly clapping his hands. "So, tell me, how has your training been going?"

"I've been doing a little of a lot, pretty much." Zeraion shrugged. "Fusion artes, summoning, meditation…you name it."

"Hm." Gardner closed his eyes and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. When he opened them, his pupils were pointed straight at Zeraion, who uncomfortably shied away from the bowmaster's glance. There was cobalt lightning dancing in the irises of his eyes.

"Tell me, Phoenix…" Gardner's eyes narrowed. "How far do you think you've advanced?"

"Not very much." Zeraion sighed. "I mean, using artes is a lot easier with the mana pool nearby, and I can use Silver Hawk, but aside from that, everything is pretty much the same as before." He fidgeted in annoyance.

"I see." A frown creased the bowmaster's face for a split second before his expression returned to normal. "Do not be dismal, Zeraion. Mastery doesn't happen overnight. Besides, you've only been on the Isle for a few days, and you're making spectacular progress."

"Thanks." Zeraion could not tell whether Gardner was telling the truth or merely trying to raise his morale.

"There is one more aspect of our training that I would like to discuss with you, however." He eyed Zeraion carefully as though he were a jeweler examining a precious stone. "From what I can see, your foundation of ranged attacks is excellent- considering Athena tutored you previously- and your fire and lightning abilities aren't half bad either. However, what worries me is your ability to fight in close quarters- there is only so much you can do swinging a spear aimlessly." He stood up abruptly. "Follow me."

Nonplussed, Zeraion did as he was told, and tailed the bowmaster all the way to the waterfall. Anxiously, he followed Gardner's footsteps until the two bowmen were standing at the very edge of the great watercourse, the spray from the falls splashing into their faces.

"What is this?" Zeraion asked, obviously confused. "Is standing by the waterfall going to help me with something or-"

Gardner chuckled. "No, Phoenix." He raised a hand to the great falls and murmured a quick incantation. Slowly, a gigantic boulder jutted out of the rock cliff beneath the water, stemming the flow in a yard-wide range and revealing a makeshift entranceway underneath the falls.

"Whoa." Zeraion blinked. _How many wonders does this place hold?_

Gardner gave Zeraion an amused look before beckoning him inside. "In."

They were standing in the middle of what looked like a massive underground arena, the caverns behind the waterfall apparently being hollowed out for this purpose. A great circular clearing about half a mile in diameter lay in front of them, surrounded by numerous stalactites and stalagmites that hung from the cave ceiling and rose from the stone floors.

"Excellent." Gardner clapped his hands before turning to face Zeraion with a deadly serious look. "You may use any technique you can think of to hinder or otherwise disrupt me, including using your bow or casting an arte, arcane, strike, or otherwise. Your objective is to survive for at least sixty seconds. Are we clear?"

Zeraion barely had time to register the bowmaster's words before something shot towards him like a bolt of lightning. Swiftly, he rolled out of the way as the lightning struck the ground several feet away from him. Cursing himself, he shouldered his bow and shouted, "Inferno Strafe!"

The mana particles in the air gathered at the handle of his weapon and fused, creating a bolt of brilliance that flew towards Gardner with a vengeance. Undaunted, Gardner pointed his Shinebow at the ground and roared, "Hurricane!" The resulting force of the attack created a gigantic crater in the ground and provided enough propulsion to hurtle him to safety. He landed neatly on his feet and commanded, "Thunder Spear!" A lance of lightning materialized in his hand, and he charged at Zeraion.

"Wha-" The gigantic shaft hurtled towards Zeraion with the force of a ballista and he threw himself out of the way, the arcane edge missing his face by a few inches. Gardner charged once more, the spear flashing in the dim cavern, and he commanded "Puppet!" to block the attack. The spear cut through his ward like paper as Zeraion was forced to summon several more dolls to guard against Gardner's incoming strikes.

Quickly, Zeraion raised a hand and commanded "Inferno!" Sparks flew from his fingers as a column of flame erupted from underneath the bowmaster, enveloping him in his wake. Swiftly, Gardner began to twirl the lance in a spiral motion, the flame rolling off the lightning weapon like water. However, the impromptu arte was enough to allow Zeraion to call "Thunder Spear!"

With a mighty crackling noise, a second spear of light had materialized and was now comfortably in its owner's palm. Twirling it about his body, Zeraion nimbly sidestepped a thrust from the bowmaster before charging forward. "Thunder Lance!"

Gardner knocked aside the bolts of lightning almost lazily and raised his lance. "Dragon Fury!" The bladed head of the spear hurtled downwards toward Zeraion, who thrust upwards in time to roar, "Impaling Heaven!" The two strike artes collided against each other with the force of a small explosion as both combatants skidded backwards a few feet away from each other.

"Not bad, Phoenix." Gardner said, before spinning around in a combat stance and lashing out in a swift uppercut. "Dragon Buster!" The force of the attack sent Zeraion flying into the air, who managed to land awkwardly by planting the head of the spear in the ground. Still recovering from the abrupt landing, Zeraion raised his lance upwards. "Astatos!"

Bolts of lightning erupted from the ground as Gardner quickly did an awkward-looking pirouette to avoid the lethal bursts of magic; he alighted on his feet and shoved the lance towards Zeraion. "Radiant End!"

Zeraion parried the strike with the handle of his own weapon and raised his left hand. "Inferno!" The resulting burst of flame was enough of a distraction to allow him some clearance to use his bow; he quickly shouldered it before Gardner could react and commanded, "Strafe!"

Four spectral arrows shot from his bow and hurtled towards the bowmaster, who managed to guard against them by swinging the lance upwards, but not without getting a small cut in the side of his arm. Scowling slightly before turning to face his opponent, Gardner charged forward with a forward stab. "Rending Spear Drive!"

The attack caught Zeraion by surprise, sending him flying several feet into the air before landing with a painful thud. Calmly, Gardner walked over to the ranger and planted the spear into the ground an inch from his neck.

"Sixty-one seconds, Phoenix. Not bad."

Zeraion rubbed the back of his neck and got up. "I'm looking forward to doing _that _again." he muttered sarcastically as he stumbled over a stray piece of rubble.

Gardner watched him, a slight look of worry in his eyes. "Would you like to rest?"

"N-no." Zeraion stretched his arms out and unstrung his bow. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a walk."

The latter seemed slightly surprised, but acquiesced. "Good. Return to the waterfall when you feel refreshed."

"I will." Zeraion bowed slightly before running out of the cavern, the bowmaster following at a more sedate pace.

The sunlight exploded about Zeraion when he emerged, cutting into his eyes and blinding him. He swore and rubbed at his eyes, letting his pupils adjust to the light before dashing into the forest; even so, there were still occasional blind spots bursting in his vision as he ran.

"Hmph." Zeraion casually darted behind the trees, careful not to attract the attention of wandering monsters.

_Where are you headed, dragon child?_

"Selena's statue." Zeraion shook a few knots of hair out of his face.

_Would you like directions? _There was a dry touch of humor in the ancient bowman's tone.

"No." Zeraion shrugged off the insult and dove into a side clump of bushes, the familiar figure of Selena Pieralasca's marble statue greeting him when he emerged.

"Peaceful." he murmured, laying back against a large slab of stone and staring up at the statue, sparks gathering at the tips of his fingers as he shot experimental bursts of flame into the air. "Athos."

_Yes?_

_"_I _have_ improved, haven't I?"

_Of course you have. You can handle a lance with exceptional proficiency for a bowman and you can utilize fusion artes._

"Yes, but…" His expression became pensive. "Is it enough to defeat Gault?"

_Only if you can handle the secrets of the dragons._

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

_When you understand, you will be ready._

"To heck with you." Zeraion muttered, relaxing against the stone and directing his gaze upwards towards the trees.

Suddenly, a flash of gold leapt across from one branch to the next, and Zeraion clambered upwards in surprise, but as he strained his eyes to look at the figure, a blind spot struck him, obscuring his vision.

He swore and rubbed angrily at his eyes, but when his vision cleared, all he could see was the outline of the figure as it leapt into the forest.

"Damn it!" Zeraion considered using Silver Hawk to track the figure, but decided against it- too many branches to maneuver through. "Did you see that?"

_Barely, but I was able to discern a shade of blonde hair much like yours and the hem of a blue robe- most likely that of a magician's. Why do you ask?_

Zeraion froze. "Is it…" he muttered.

_Yes?_

"Nothing." The ranger sedately slid his hands into his pockets. "Let's go back to Gardner."

Asthathos Rindelasca merely thrummed lightly in thought, knowing that for once Zeraion Phoenix's thoughts were troubling him, and not the other way around.

-----

Night had fallen over the forest of Sleepywood, the moon's soft rays casting a glow over the trees as the elves rested in their haunts, the demons under the command of Meteon E'traia patrolling the trees looking for a sign of any intruder.

Deep in the epicenter of Sleepywood, the great fortress of Meteon E'traia rested against the dark horizon of the sky, its intricate designs shaded by the clear darkness of the sky and barely glazed with the moon's dying light.

And in the center of it all, the bowmaster known as Gault Isentryx calmly stood in the expanse of the great hall, the bodies of four bowmen limply lying before him, their faces contorted as though they were experiencing a grisly nightmare.

"Hmph." Gault calmly eyed those that had once been his friends and were now his mortal enemies. "The temporal arte should be lapsing into its greatest level of effect right about…now." He cast a glance at the ceiling, deliberately skirting his gaze away from them. "How troublesome…and to think, I used to treat them as one of my own."

Slowly, Gault unsheathed the regal Dragon Shinebow from his back and carefully strung it. He gently plucked the string once, the resulting note resounding through the room like a tone of death. Then he painstakingly aimed the weapon towards the floor, where the Devil Children lay.

"Farewell." Gault snarled, his gaze unfaltering. "Demon Stra-"

A sudden spasm overtook him and his knees buckled slightly as he clutched his head for support, the bow slipping to the tips of his fingers. There was a crackle and then a loud explosion as the unstable mana harnessed by the necromantic arte went out of control, throwing him off his feet and causing him to land on the hard crystal floor of Meteon E'traia with a sickening thud.

"_Lord Isentryx!" _a Balrog roared, rushing in; Gault recognized it as Melchior. "_Is everything all right?"_

Gault caught sight of his reflection in the wall and realized there was blood trickling down his face. "Nothing, Melchior." he said in a taciturn voice. "Merely a slight lapse in my…mental faculties."

The Balrog was unconvinced, but thought it best not to question matters where Lord Isentryx was concerned. "_Very well. Your orders, milord?"_

Gault sighed and wiped a hand across his forehead, trickles of red staining his gauntlets. "As a matter of fact, yes. You didn't happen to see Raizen anywhere, did you?"

The Balrog gave a short bow. "_Yes. Her mana signature was detected at a location about ten degrees north, twenty degrees east."_

Gault's pupils widened briefly. _The Isle of Ascension. _He shook his head and said, "Call her at once."

"_At once, milord." _True to the Balrog's words, the figure of Grace Raizen emerged in the archway, her hair fluttering in a lifeless wind about her body. "Yes, Gault?"

"Where have you been?" Gault said, as though he were speaking to a runaway child. His voice was poisoned honey. "I trust you weren't taking a vacation someplace…"

"Is it suddenly against the law for me to take a stroll every once in a while?" Grace replied coolly, her silvered pupils glowing dimly in the hall.

"Of course not." Gault smiled amicably- in other words, about as amicably as a starving Wild Cargo. "I wouldn't want you running off somewhere and getting yourself in danger…especially near Zeraion Phoenix." His grin leveled off as he closed his eyes. "Then again, I know you wouldn't do anything like that."

He opened his eyes, the darkness of his pupils seeming to filter across the whole room. "Would you?"

"What do you take me for?" Grace snarled. "A harlot?"

"Ah." He walked over to her and laid his right hand on her shoulder. "Then I guess you won't mind me doing…"

Too late, Grace saw that his left arm was raised.

"…_this! Obliviate!"_

Bolts of white lightning erupted from his fingers as he slammed the heel of his left palm into her head; her eyes widened for a split second before they glazed over, hundreds of kairns of manaic force bursting through the particles of ether that made up her spectral-physical form.

Grace's pupils lost all signs of life as the force of Gault's arte surged through her; she staggered to her knees, her hair cascading in soft drifts about her limp form.

"Up." Gault commanded, indifference in his eyes.

Slowly, she did as he asked, her eyes even bleaker and more lifeless than they had been before, if that was even possible.

"Yes?" she said tonelessly, her eyes gazing straight into his.

Gault smiled at her, his dark-crimson pupils glinting with an evil air. "Thank you, Raizen." he said as though nothing had happened. "You've been a very good girl."

"What do you want me to do with them?" she asked, turning her gaze towards the fallen Devil Children.

Gault's gaze flickered towards his Shinebow for a moment before he shook his head. "Leave them."

"But-"

"I said _leave them." _Gault said in a tone so irrevocable that Grace dared not argue.

He cast a last look at Tales, Arundale, Igzarion and Arklanser laying on the floor before taking Grace's hand in his and leaving the main hall, a droplet of blood streaking his cheek.

-----

"So much for vector geometry, Dariel…" Ryden darkly mused as he eyed the pitch-black atmosphere of the Sleepywood forest

"Shut up." Marron said as he carved a path through the foliage with swings of his blade and occasional murmurs of "Inferno Charge." The Paladin's sword blazed a deep cherry-red as it slaked through the trunks. "He's been here."

"How do you know?" Ryden muttered, arbitrarily kicking a branch.

The warrior calmly indicated a set of heavyset footprints imprinted on the rotting forest floor, coupled with the drag marks of a large, bladed weapon.

"Oh."

The footprints suddenly turned sharply to the right; both swordsmen followed the marks to be greeted by a large clearing that had obviously been made some time ago.

"Whoa." Cautiously, both held their swords aloft in case of an attack and stepped into the middle of the clearing. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt wood, and indeed, white ashes could be seen streaking the floor. There was a metallic, acrid scent that hung in the atmosphere; it took both warriors a minute to realize it was blood.

"This doesn't look good." Ryden murmured, examining a tree covered with scorch and slash marks.

"Hm." Marron carefully noted the grisly details of the battle before turning his attention to the bodies of several Tauros slumped against the ground, flies already beginning to gather on the corpses. Wincing and holding his nose, the Paladin made his way toward the cadavers and examined them.

"Ugh." Marron swore to himself. "They were killed not too long ago. The bloodstains are fresh."

"You're right." Ryden came over and examined them as well. "Look." he said, pointing to a series of scars on the bodies. "It looks like they've been hit with some sort of arcane arte…"

"Not these." Marron ran his fingers along a series of deep cuts in the demons' armor. "These are material wounds, but they're too thin to have been inflicted by an axe- more likely a sword. It's the work of a very experienced swordsman, I would have to say."

"So what are you saying? That Ark, a swordsman, and a group of Tauros all converged on the same spot at the same time?"

"Probably not. It's more likely that a group of people and a group of Tauros crossed paths with each other…yes." he murmured, indicating the shaft of an arrow embedded in a Taurospear's throat. "It's of elven make. My best guess is that the elves and Tauros had a big fight here, and poor Wolfen probably got caught in the crossfire."

Ryden winced. "Would elves have any reason to take prisoners, especially if said prisoners were innocent?"

"Perhaps not. But then again, the elves haven't been very friendly towards the humans as of late." Marron gave the bodies one last dark look before drawing up his sword. "We'll have to follow the elves' tracks. Whatever happens, I'd like to make sure that Wolfen gets out of this alive."

"Right." Ryden lowered his blade but kept his hand close to the hilt. "They went that way." he said, following the footprints into a group of bushes. "Come on."

"Yeah." Both swordsmen deftly sheathed their weapons and headed deeper into the Sleepywood forest.

-----

"…_he alive?"_

"…perhaps…"

"_don't…trouble him…"_

Ark Wolfen opened his eyes groggily, light filtering into his eyes. He was lying in a soft bed that felt as though it was a cloud, blankets piled up on top of him and his wild-haired head resting of a swan-down cushion. After blinking several times, he could tell that there were two figures in the room with him; a tall, silver-haired personage, and a slightly shorter, dark-haired one. Both were female.

"Ah, you're awake." The silver-haired one clapped her hands briskly and gave a short bow. "I shall leave you two alone for now. Please tell me if you need anything."

"Um…okay." Ark said, biting his tongue. All he remembered was hearing screams in the forest, rushing out and casting arcane artes, someone holding him…then silence. Where in the hell was he, and who were these people?

"You're all right, then?" the dark-haired girl asked, smiling gently at him. There was a flower stuck in her long, raven-black hair.

They had the same hair color, Ark noted dimly, before he heard her voice again. "I never got to thank you for what you did back in the forest."

"It…" His words swam through the abyss that his thoughts had become. "It was nothing. I didn't like those demons much, anyway." He sighed and rumpled his hair. "I should be the one thanking you. You dragged me out of the forest…"

"I only did what anyone else would have done in this situation." She shrugged modestly and stirred a cup of tea on the dresser. "Here. It will do you good."

Ark took a sip of the hot fluid; it was lightly sweet, with an undercurrent of wildflower. "Where am I, anyway?"

"This is Galiaen." She gently raised an arm and beckoned to the walls. "It is the city of the elves."

"Elves?!" Ark nearly dropped the tea in shock. "I didn't know you guys were still around…"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course we were. We were merely in hiding after our ancient city, Meteon E'traia, was overran by the demons long ago during the first Demonos."

"The what?"

"The first war against Razier." She took the tea from him and gently set it back on the dresser. "It's best if you rest. You should have known better than to cast an arcane arte in a state like that."

"I had no choice." Ark replied grimly, sitting up in bed. It was then that he noticed someone had changed him out of his armor and into a brightly colored nightgown.

"Who…changed me?" he asked, in a slow and deliberate tone.

"I didn't." she shrugged nonchalantly, although her tone was suppressed laughter.

Ark gave her a suspicious stare before kneading his palms together. On any other given day, he would have paid a bit more attention to the girl's rather beautiful curves and cute features, but there were more pressing things on his mind at the moment. Where were his teammates, and were they safe?

"Tell me." His eyes cut sharply into hers, and she was slightly unnerved by his expression. "What were you doing when I came upon you in the forest?"

She ran a hand across her forehead before answering, "I was the leader of a small party that was sent out by the King and Queen to scout the forest. We had heard reports of Taurospear activity in the area."

"I see." Ark raised his eyebrow. "You have a king and queen?"

"Yes." Her face seemed to harden for a second. "Our current monarch is King Galion Isalden. He rules us along with Queen Riane Pieralasca. The city of Galiaen is named after him."

"Charming." The crusader lapsed back into thought. "When you were scouting the forest, did you happen to meet anyone else?"

"No." She shook her head. "Of course, we still had 200 square miles to search when we found you, so it's a high probability that someone else might be there." Her gaze narrowed. "Were you with anyone?"

"Yes." He exhaled as calmly as he could. "I and two other warriors were sent by Athena Pierce to investigate Meteon E'traia."

At this, the girl was visibly surprised, nearly falling off the bed. "Athena…sent you?" she asked curiously.

"Yes." Ark seemed surprised as well by her sudden display of shock. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She cast a glance around the room before replying, "It would be prudent for you not to mention Athena's name in listening distance of anyone within this city."

"Why?" Ark wondered, more confused than ever. "I thought Athena herself was an elf…"

"It…is a long story, with a short explanation." She darkly shook her head. "Perhaps I will tell you the tale later. For now, describe your companions. We can send another scout team out to look for them."

"All right." Ark cracked his knuckles. "One of them was a Paladin, had tall blonde hair and a Heaven's Gate. The other one was slightly younger, had black hair like yours, and had a silver katana."

"I see." She stood up. "I will instruct the teams at once-"

"Wait." Ark held out a hand to stop her. "You…never told me your name."

She hesitated a split second before replying, "My name is Lisande," and left it at that.

Lisande crossed over to the door and made to open it, but it was opened from the outside. A tall, slender elf with long silver hair and a quiver draped across his back stepped over the threshold. "Well met, my lady."

"As to you, Reine." Lisande replied, returning the bow. "Why have you come?"

"There's something at the city gate." His gaze flickered over Ark before he motioned her close and whispered something in her ear. Lisande's eyes widened for a split second before she replied, "Is this true?"

"Apparently so." With that, Reine gave a second bow and turned to leave. Lisande's eyes followed him before her gaze snapped back to Ark. "Come on."

"What?"

"Come on." She strode over to the bed and yanked the covers off him. "There's something at the gate that requires your attention."

"But I'm barely dressed!" Ark protested. "And what is this something, anyway?"

Lisande gave him a steely glare before replying, "That's what we intend to find out."

-----

_stiletto_

He stood, frozen with shock, at the person who had completely destroyed his life twelve years ago…the one who had killed _them…_the one whom he had killed…

…_right in front of him!_

"Y-you…"

His voice, barely louder than a whisper, slowly trickled from his mouth, the word rising in intensity like a rapid river until it escalated to a fever pitch.

"_**YOU!**__" _he exploded furiously, his anger erupting within him like a volcano as he drew his dagger and charged forward, wanting nothing more than to send this soul to purgatory once and for all. "_Die! __**Assaulter!**__"_

He shot forward, mana pulsing through his veins as the strike arte took effect, and raised his blade to strike.

The knife in his hand flashed a dark crimson as he soared through the air, his figure rippling as it cut through the atmosphere. He was close…so close…to kill…to kill once more…

There was a loud noise of metal colliding with metal as he drew a blade of his own, arcane sparks of darkness floating through the air as the weapons made contact. The force of the blast sent Igzarion flying several feet into the air before he alighted again, gazing with horrified fury at the figure that stood before him.

"I see you haven't forgotten me, Traphes." Casper Igzarion noted to his son, a large dagger glinting at his belt. "Must we get off on the wrong foot so soon?"

"Look." The latter spat fiercely on the ground before turning to face his parent. "I don't care whether this is an illusion or not, and I don't care if you're real or not. All I care about is sending you to _hell!" _He pressed his palms together and commanded, "Haste!" At once, particles of magic began to flow into him, increasing his speed tenfold. His dagger drawn once more, he raised it into the air before bringing it down in a wide arc. "Savage Blow!"

Swiftly, Casper drew the dagger from his own belt and made a series of slahes in midair to parry against Igzarion's stabs, the weapons exploding noisily against each other as they made contact. Undaunted, Igzarion then launched into a spin kick, which Casper easily blocked with his wrists.

"I never thought I'd see you again so soon, my son." The elder Igzarion seemed unimpressed as Traphes continued to furiously stab and kick out at him. "You've grown."

"Don't _talk _to me." Traphes snarled, lashing out in a forceful spiral slash that barely missed. "This was all your fault. If it wasn't for you-" He paused to lunge forward with a fierce stab, the point of his blood-colored stiletto impacting with a fierce crack against the hilt of his father's twin-bladed knife. "I would _never _have suffered like that!" He clenched his fist and aimed it at Casper's head, who managed to duck out of the way in time. "You, with your stupid vendetta against my mother- I can see now why she never loved you!"

"Yes…" Casper slowly grinned, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a twisted smile. "Your mother, indeed." He calmly blocked his son's stabs as fast as they came, occasionally shifting in and out of Dark Sight to do so. "It is a pity she couldn't see you like this…not that it matters, anyway."

"Don't say that!" Igzarion snarled, the point of his dagger glittering dangerously. "Assaulter!"

"Dark Sight!" Casper commanded, tendrils of shadow bursting around him just in time as the blade of the dagger flew harmlessly through him. "You never loved your mother." he snarled harshly. "She hated you for what you were. You were a monster."

"She saved my life." Traphes snarled, the dagger flying towards Casper once more as he guarded against it. "And that's more than you could ever do…because you never cared for me. All you ever did was get me drunk in front of your frieds for your own _fucking _amusement!" He flung himself forward and shouted, "Savage Blow!"

The blows came swiftly, raining down upon the elder bandit like a waterfall. He deftly twirled his knife about him, blocking the first five, but the last one bypassed his guard and left a tiny nick in his shoulder. Casper's eyes narrowed dangerously before he commanded, "Rending Arc!"

The knife in his hand flashed a bright gold before it carved upwards and slammed into Traphes' chest, catching him in the abdomen. He let out a strained gasp as the air was blown out of his lungs, a wide wound running up the length of his body. He flew backwards and skidded along the ground with a bloody thud, stains of crimson streaking the white floor.

"You…bastard." Igzarion snarled, before putting a hand to his oozing chest. "Chakra." Multicolored orbs of light flashed around the ranger before the wound glowed with a white light, closing up the rent flesh. He staggered to his feet and commanded, "Assaulter!" He flew forward, but the attack had no more effect on his father than the previous ones; Casper blocked it easily with the hilt of his dagger before turning to face his son with an antagonistic expression.

"And who do you think taught you those techniques?" he asked aloud, his voice surprisingly loud in the confines of the room. "Neither Athena nor your mother ever bequeathed upon you the sacred arts of the bandit…I gave you the powers of shadow and stealth that reside in your blood! You were so eager to follow in my footsteps, child…how quickly times do change!" he roared, pressing his fingers together. "Dark Sight!"

Igzarion sensed the danger in the air; he swiftly flung himself across the room as Casper bellowed, "Assassinate!" The force of the slashes echoed viciously across the room as waves of golden-white energy blew through the air, dangerously missing him by inches.

"_Damn you!" _Igzarion sheathed his dagger. _I need to attack from long range. Otherwise, I won't stand a chance. _He drew his night-colored Metus and deftly strung it, drawing back the string as flames leapt from his fingers. "Devil's Inferno!"

Crimson shards of red-black flame spewed forth from his hands, bursting into arcane flares wherever they struck. Undaunted, Casper rolled out of the way, as Igzarion aimed the bow at him once more. "Demon Rain!"

Black bolts of lightning exploded from the ceiling and rained upon the chief bandit like the spray of a waterfall. Igzarion watched to see what his father would do; but he was shocked when Casper deflected the bolts almost lazily with several flicks of his wrist.

"Is that all you have…_my son?" _he sneered. "Using the pathetic artes of your mother won't let you win this battle!"

"Don't…" Igzarion clenched a fist. "Don't _ever _mock my mother!" He ripped the dagger from his belt and charged again, launching into a spiral cut that Casper deftly caught between the tines of his weapon and wrenched aside. Without faltering, Igzarion spun in midair and launched into a spin kick, missing Casper's head by an inch. Scowling, the latter raised his dagger and roared, "Assaulter!"

Igzarion was prepared, however; he pressed his hands together and commanded, "Dark Sight!" The attack blazed through him harmlessly; swiftly, he deactivated the arte and raised his bow, dark energy leaping from its limbs. "Dark Distortion!"

Casper barely had time to react before the resulting blast of demonic energy sped towards him with the force of a bullet. The attack struck him head-on, his lips opened in surprise, before he was thrown into the air, connecting to the wall with a sick thud.

Igzarion quickly raised a hand and bellowed, "Hell Pyre!", but Casper used Dark Sight to evade the arte. Scowling, he released the magic before turning to face his son.

"You…honestly think you can defeat me?" he snarled, his dagger drawn.

"I killed you once before," Igzarion replied, his eyes closed, "and I won't hesitate to do it again."

"Ah." Strangely enough, Casper smiled. "So, that's how you're willing to play the game…"

"…_in that case, I won't hesitate to kill you either!" _he roared, abruptly charging, and Igzarion barely had time to draw his dagger before Casper launched into a series of slashes, the daggers bouncing off of each other with loud peals of thunder. The twin knife lunged forward only to be narrowly blocked by a guard; without pausing to miss a beat, Casper spun around and struck again, the edge of his knife striking noisily against Igzarion's stiletto.

"_I will tear you limb from limb, child!" _Casper bellowed, his eyes reducing into feral slits of fury as he aimed another stab at his son's neck. "_Letting you live was my greatest mistake…You never deserved to live!"_

"Shut up, you bastard." Igzarion replied flatly, parrying another stab and taking the opportunity to lash out with an arcane arte. "Hell Pyre!" Casper raised his dagger to guard against the incoming bursts of dark flame, but it wasn't enough; he was knocked back several feet, giving Igzarion the opportunity to lash forward. "Assaulter!"

At long last, the dagger shooting through the air at supersonic speed came in contact with the chief bandit, the impact resounding throughout the room and sending him flying into the air. His body made several awkward flips before landing on the ground with a muffled thud.

Resolutely, Igzarion walked over to the limp figure of his father and raised his bow, dark flames leaping from the limbs, as Casper watched upon the ground.

"You're going to kill me again, aren't you?" Casper's voice had lost its demonic edge and was now almost human.

Igzarion's expression was unreadable as he replied, "You were a demon, and I would be doing the world a disservice if I didn't."

Casper slowly smiled and closed his eyes. "So be it…brought to death's gate by my own son…but why not? Perhaps I deserved it, having let one such as you live that day…"

"What?" Igzarion paled, the bowstring threatening to break under his throbbing hands. Those were definitely not the words he had expected _him _to say, especially not on his deathbed. "What are you talking about?"

"Heh." Delicately, Casper coughed up a bit of blood, the drops like garnets on his rent clothes. "Take a look at yourself, Traphes. Look at what you are; what do you see when you look at your reflection in the mirror?"

Igzarion was left speechless by this enigmatic question; he merely relaxed his grip on the bowstring as though he were going to release it. "Just shut the hell up." he snarled. "I'm not here to put up with any of your riddle bullshit."

"Oh?" His smile did not fade. "If you weren't, you would have killed me long ago."

"Just…_shut up!" _The string shook to the point where it looked like it could break at any second. "_Shut up!"_

"Why should I? I'm already dead." Casper replied with the faintest tinge of venom in his voice. "I am only sorry that I could not take you with me…but do what you must. Your mother would have wanted it." he added, almost deliberately.

"My…mother…" The ranger's pupils seemed to dilate for a minute as he stared at his father, neither yielding nor advancing.

"She gave her life for you…the mistake that you were." he snarled. "Created from a relationship that never should have been…you, the greatest immorality." His smile widened. "The fusion of two of the four sacred classes, into an sacrilegious monstrosity."

Abruptly, Casper's arm shot out and seized ahold of Igzarion's dark hauberk. The latter's eyes widened in surprise, but he made no move to release the bowstring purely out of shock. The chief bandit's fingers glowed white with energy as the chain mail slowly rent itself into thin shreds, gradually exposing a section of the ranger's abdomen.

"Behold…the body of the ultimate sinner, the one who dared to encroach upon the territory of the class fusion!" Casper roared in triumph, the cool sapphire sheen of the demon chamber exposed to the air. "You should have died…but death spared you at her cruel gate, twice! And here you stand, the bane of existence to all who lie before you!"

…_a single drop of bloody remorse in a sea of immoral darkness…_

"How…_dare you!" _Igzarion snarled in fury, his knuckles clenching so hard they turned white. "Don't even _think _about pinning any of this on me! _You _were the one who dragged me into your sick and twisted world! If it weren't for you, my mother would never have died, and I wouldn't have this goddamn _thing _in my chest!"

Casper smiled for the last time, a twisted shard of darkness in the white room. "Yes…your mother, Traphes. The mother that loved so much and cared for you, whom you never spared any of your own affection in return. She loved you, and how did you repay her? You turned your back on her, on everyone, because of the sin you were."

Igzarion's dark pupils widened.

"But…I suppose she got her comeuppance in the end. After all, she cursed you with her last breath."

The stage was set; all that was needed was the catalyst to complete the reaction.

"_You should never have been born._"

…_the ultimate sinner that flew upon wings of regret and malediction…_

The bowstring snapped, a loud, piercing noise that reverberated across the confines of the room. The string flailed wildly before whipping across Igzarion's left wrist, leaving a deep, bloody slash mark. A bolt of flame erupted from the limbs of the Metus and exploded against the ground, but when the smoke cleared, Casper was no longer there.

Igzarion whipped around to see his father standing behind him with a smug expression, apparently unhurt, his eyes mocking him with every fiber of his being. Abandoning what little self-control he had left, he threw down his bow and charged, his dagger raised as he prepared to end this once and for all.

He didn't notice Casper whispering, "Shadow Web."

The silvery strands of magic that made up the arte spiraled from the chief bandit's fingers and snared themselves around Igzarion's body, pinning the ranger against the wall. He struggled, attempting to break the arcane fetters that held him in place, but it was no use. He was stuck, helpless, and alone.

…_just like the day twelve years past when the snow bled crimson…_

Slowly, with an air that seemed as though he were passionately enjoying the moment, Casper Igzarion unsheathed his double-bladed dagger and walked towards his son. There was malice in the boy's eyes; a seething, tangible hate that radiated from every fiber of the ranger's being.

"Traphes, you really shouldn't do that." Casper said, in a casual tone that betrayed not even the slightest bit of emotion. "If your emotions get out of hand, they could trigger another arcane reaction, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" He tapped the blade of his knife against the cool crystal embedded in his son's flesh, a clear note ringing across the room.

Igzarion merely grit his teeth and forced himself to think straight. _I'm not going down like this. Shadow Web isn't a hard arte to dispel, and I can use a quick mana reaction to get rid of it. _He silently closed his eyes and concentrated, slowly using particles of mana in the air to counteract the arte that ensnared him.

Unfortunately, Casper knew what he was up to, and poked him in the neck with the tip of the blade. "I would prefer if you not do that, Traphes." he said bluntly. "I would hate to have to do something else to you…"

"Shut up! What more can you do besides deliver me into the hands of death?!" Igzarion bellowed furiously, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Casper paused. "Are you telling me you really want to die?"

"Why not?" Igzarion sneered defiantly.

_Maybe…I'll get to see Mother again…and tell her that I love her…_

Casper considered the threat for a second before pocketing his knife. "No, I won't kill you. Quite honestly, I don't think you deserve the honor." His gaze sharpened. "However…there are things worse than death."

"Such as?" Igzarion retorted testily.

"Such as…the suffering of someone you care about." he replied, with a dark grin.

"Don't bullshit me." the ranger spat back. "I never cared about anyone. You said it yourself."

Casper's snide grin only widened. "Well…" he said, calmly running a hand along his forehead, "I may have lied."

He snapped his fingers, and Igzarion was suddenly aware of the presence of someone else in the room; a figure shadowed against the wall, but whether it be friend or foe, he could not tell.

With another flick of Casper's fingers, the shadow dispersed, and Igzarion could finally look upon the face of this new identity.

"Natalia!" Igzarion screamed, the word piercing through the empty air.

Arundale lay motionlessly against the wall across from Igzarion, her body suspended against the white surface as though she had been crudely nailed to it. Her eyes were closed and she made not even the faintest indication that she recognized Igzarion, or even was aware of her surroundings, for that matter.

"You never loved your half-sisters, Traphes." Casper said coldly, walking over to Arundale's limp figure. "You treated them just as you treated your mother- harsh, cold, and uncaring, with no affection whatsoever."

His grin widened as he drew his knife. "But…I wonder how you feel about _her." _

Before Igzarion could react, he drew the point of the dagger across Natalia's arm, leaving a line of crimson upon the limb.

Two things happened from the instant he cut her. Firstly, a blood-curdling cry of pain escaped Arundale's lips, and Igzarion found himself struggling against his bonds to the point where dark red welts appeared on his arms as a result. At the same time, he felt a gigantic pain seize ahold of him, as though he were experiencing a migraine, as Natalia's scream echoed in his ears, rendering his concentration apart and leaving his artes useless.

Secondly, a trickle of red fluid began to seep from the ceiling, pooling in a crimson puddle upon the otherwise-white ground. He recognized it unmistakably as blood, but whose, he could not tell.

"_Stop it!" _He found himself demanding the cessation before his mind could process the words.

"Why should I?" Casper's grin widened as he raked the knife across Natalia's arm once more- he noticed the flow of blood from the ceiling visibly increased as she cried out. "You don't _care _about her, anyway."

"No!" Igzarion lashed out at his father, every fiber of his being intent on making him suffer a horrible and painful death, but Casper merely laughed and began to raise the knife again, this time mercilessly jabbing the girl with the tip of the blade.

"Go on, Traphes." he said, tauntingly, over the sound of Natalia's screams. "Save her…if you can. I won't try and stop you…but remember that you're working on a timer. If you can't free yourself, this room will eventually flood and drown the both of you." He indicated the gigantic pool of blood, now about an inch deep across the floor, and continued to repeatedly pierce Arundale with the tips of the double-bladed knife.

"No…_stop!" _he shouted hopelessly, the invisible bindings of his father's arte cutting painfully into his wrists as the sanguine lake on the floor continued to rise with each of her wails.

_Stab. Scream._

"Stop!"

_Stab. Scream._

"Stop it now!"

_Stab. Scream._

"…Natalia…!"

-----

The footprints did not fade as the two swordsmen continued to follow them, the rays of the dying moon illuminating their passage through Sleepywood.

"They seem to be going rather slowly." Ryden noted as his eyes darted across the dank forest floor. "You'd think for elves, they'd have a bit more agility…"

"They were carrying a big, fat crusader, complete with armor and 40-pound axe." Marron said in an unimpressed voice. "Even for them, that'd be a big trip." He raised his eyes and stole a glance at the moon before turning his attention back to the path. "We're going northeast."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Both." Marron said bluntly, hacking aside an overgrown bush with his blade. "We're getting closer to the elves, but to Meteon E'traia as well."

Ryden merely scowled and paused to dismember a Curse Eye with a spiral motion of his sword. "How much farther can it be?"

"Could be a while." The Paladin calmly examined his sword for a moment. "Sleepywood covers five hundred square miles."

"Well, I'm not going to put up with that crap." Ryden snarled. He raised his sword and commanded, "Dracon!"

"Ryden, what are you-" His question was answered when Ryden raised his now-transformed greatsword and bellowed, "Sky Star!" The swordsman leapt into the air in a flash of light at supersonic speed, leaving a nonplussed Paladin behind.

"Bastard." Marron calmly rumpled his hair before raising his own sword and commanding, "Rush!" In a sudden burst of speed, the blonde-haired swordsman dashed past the ground, running through any foliage or monsters unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

With these methods, it wasn't long before they finally reached the end of the footprint trail, leading up to what seemed like an immovable mountain of plant matter, leaves and vines twisted all over the alcove like the jaws of some gigantic monster.

"Do you think it's…"

"Probably. It doesn't look like there's a doorbell or anything, though." Marron walked up to the gigantic mass of plant and rested his palm on it, as though expecting something to happen, but nothing did.

"Is anyone in there?!" Ryden shouted repeatedly, but for all the effect it had, he might as well have remained silent.

"Any suggestions?" Ryden finally asked (in a slightly hoarse voice).

"Aside from blowing the place up? None."

"Darn it…" Ryden listlessly poked his sword into the gigantic mound. "I think-"

Whatever Ryden was thinking was lost to time, for when he withdrew his sword a blue light began to spiral from the great mound, surrounding it with an eerie glow. When the light cleared, a doorway was visible through the foliage, through which two less-than-friendly elves could be seen.

"Uh…oh."

"Who are you, and why have you come here?!" one of them barked, raising a blade of watered steel.

"Um…uh…" Both Ryden and Marron exchanged glances. "We were sent by Athena Pierce."

Both had hoped that the menion of the elven bowmistress's name would lessen suspicion, but astonishingly, it had the opposite effect. Both elves' gazes hardened and they shot apprehensive glances at the swordsmen before saying, "Stay here and don't move." One disappeared into the depths of the elven city while the other kept a watchful eye on the two warriors.

"What the hell is their problem?!" Ryden hissed in an undertone.

"Perhaps it's because we're human." Marron replied bluntly.

"What difference would that make?" Ryden asked. "I thought the elves and humans allied with each other during the first Demonos."

"That was a decision made purely out of the need for self-survival." Marron replied, folding his arms. "The elves needed the humans to defeat the demons, and vice-versa. The alliance the two races share is purely military and nothing more."

"That's _stupid."_ Ryden said flatly, expressing his sentiments in the most elemental of words. Marron merely sniffed the air and gave a noncommittal shrug.

There was a shout of "Lady Isalden!" off in the distance; both swordsmen strained to see past the stoic elf guarding the entrance, but saw nothing. "Yes? What's happened at the gate? You didn't tell me-"

The elf guarding the entrance suddenly moved aside, and out came what seemed like half a dozen retainers, weapons drawn, followed by two raven-haired people. One of them was Ark.

The other one was a young woman, probably no older than a teenager. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders and down to her waist in a shower of night, the color and texture of her kimono gown contrasting sharply against the cold steel armor that her guards wore. At her waist was a daisho belt, adorned with a wakizashi shortsword, resting comfortably in its sheath. Upon her back was a quiver, its insides bulging with feathered arrows and a elegantly-sung bow. Although she obviously screamed of womanhood, there was still something child-like and innocent on her face- especially in her eyes, pearls of jaded, crystalline beauty.

"Ryden!" The swordsman received a light whack upside the cheek from Marron. "Are you all right? You seemed to pass out for a moment…"

Ryden shook his head roughly. "No, I'm fine." His gaze flickered to Ark, also wearing a long gown that seemed to be several sizes too large for him. "Hey, Ark. Nice pajamas."

Ark's expression was one of awe as he ignored the jab. "Ryden…Marron!" he stammered, speechless. "You're alive? I thought you were-"

"Yeah, yeah, we thought the same. But at least you're safe." Ryden brushed aside the issue. "Where is this place?"

"Your names?" the woman asked coldly.

Ryden sighed. "My name is Ryden, son of Dracon. This is Aslan Seles." He indicated the Paladin standing stoically at the guards as though nothing were happening.

The woman spoke in a quick ripple to Ark, who nodded briefly. Her expression relaxed as she turned to face them. "My greetings. I am Lady Lisande Isalden of Galiaen. As you can see, this is our chief city in Sleepywood. We have resided here since the destruction of Meteon E'traia and the damage wreaked by Razier, in hiding." Her gaze flickered towards them for a moment. "It is a pleasure to meet you." she said, extending her hand.

"And yours as well." Ryden nodded, taking hers. It was then that he suddenly became conscious of the numerous stains of blood and dirt streaking his figure. "Would you mind if we…rested here for a bit?"

"We were sent by Athena Pierce to request a personal audience with the King, if it were possible." Marron cut in flatly.

At this, everyone looked up at the Paladin in surprise- even Ryden and Ark, seeing as how their true intentions were anything but. Both warriors shot Marron a '_What the hell are you doing, are you freaking crazy?!'_ look.

The swordsman merely replied with an '_I know perfectly well what I'm doing, so shut the hell up and let me take care of this' _expression, silencing both for the time being. One of the elves rudely cut in, "Galion is not to be troubled at this time."

"He is the son of the Dark Knight Keiga Seles, so I believe it would be wise to listen to what he has to say." Lisande reprimanded sharply. "I will see to it that King Galion and Queen Riane are able to converse with you. Lead him to the throne room."

"Thank you." The Paladin made a short bow before following the reluctant retainers inside the city. Lisande's eyes followed them before she turned her attention to Ryden and Ark. "I would like to speak privately with you two, so follow me."

Slowly, she shook her hair out of her eyes and walked into the depths of the forest, both warriors following behind.

After some minutes of walking, she led them into a small forest clearing. Unlike the rest of Sleepywood, dark, dank, and overgrown with unwelcome foliage and monsters, this small expanse was lush with gentle flowers and grass. The sound of a small river's humming could be heard in the distance.

Lisande perched herself upon a slab of stone and nodded to the other two to do the same. Wincing slightly, Ryden sat upon the smooth, cold, surface, Ark doing so as well.

"What did you want to discuss?" Ark asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Why were you sent to Meteon E'traia?" she asked flatly.

Ryden rumpled his hair. "You told her?"

"I had no choice." Ark replied flatly, before turning back to Lisande. "It's a long story, but I guess we have all night. You see, Victoria Island's sort of…at war."

"War?" Lisande's eyebrows raised themselves a fraction of an inch. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"It's rather covert." Ryden sighed. "There haven't really been any overt conflicts yet, apart from one, but we're all trying to prepare for the worst. One of our tasks was to conduct a clandestine operation of sorts. To scout out the enemy, so to speak."

"Ah." Lisande's expression grew pensive. "We had indeed heard reports of increasing Tauros activity in the forest- which is quite astonishing, since they usually don't come out of the Dungeon. We attempted to investigate, but the Dungeon was blocked for some reason; someone apparently refitted the entrance to Meteon E'traia with a new door." She exhaled. "That in itself was not very reassuring."

"Well, at least you aren't part of the mainland action." Ark cracked his knuckles. "There's been a lot of ruckus going on in Elaesia- or rather, Henesys. Athena mobilized an army of sorts, took control of it, and now we're all scurrying around like bunnies trying to do something before we all get killed."

"Athena…did all that?" Lisande looked surprised for a moment before she shrugged. "Well, I can't pretend I'm not astonished, but it's not all that surprising."

"You knew her?" Ryden asked.

"Not in person." Lisande ran a hand through her hair. "She was the daughter of King Galion and Queen Riane, along with her sister Reneai, or Rene. She's much older than I am- about a couple hundred years or so- and I'd heard stories about her exploits in the past. Apparently, she was a lot more…gallant than a princess was expected to be."

"What?" Both Ark and Ryden nearly choked in shock. "Athena's a _princess?!" _

"Of course. You didn't think any old elf would take it upon herself to found a city, would you?" Lisande shook her head. "I guess it was because she was young- well, as young as elves get- and she wanted to see more of the world. She left Sleepywood and ventured into mainland Victoria. At that time, I believe there were already several small villages near the future site of Henesys that practiced archery, but Athena centralized them all into the town known as Henesys. She was its founder and she continues to live there to this day, as you very well know."

"Why didn't she return here?" Ryden asked. "Did something happen?"

Lisande sighed deeply. "If you must know…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Athena and Rene were exiled some years ago by the royal house. They are no longer considered a part of the Pieralasca line, and since then, it has been considered taboo to speak their names in Galiaen."

"What happened?" Ark asked curiously.

Lisande shook her head. "I don't know the exact details of what happened to Athena, but I know for a fact that Rene was once…romantically involved with a human." Catching the look on the warriors' faces, she added, "And yes, that was a severe taboo…especially for a member of royalty. She had a daughter, I think, who she sent to Athena to care for."

"Are you saying that the same thing happened to Athena?" Ryden wondered.

"_I _don't know." Lisande shrugged. "The royal family never told me, and I wasn't stupid enough to ask. All I know is that one day, King Galion issued a decree that Athena and Rene were exiled, and that was that. For all intents and purposes, that may have been what happened, since Athena was a known human sympathizer, having helped found the town of Henesys and all, but I think that she was a bit too headstrong to fall in love with a human. Besides, she was considered the more mature of the two siblings, so it's probably more likely that she was exiled for defending her sister, rather than falling in love herself."

"I see." Ark sighed and examined his hands. "There's something I've been meaning to ask. Are you a member of the royal family?"

"How could you jump to that conclusion?" Lisande asked, slightly surprised.

"You mentioned that your last name was Isalden, and King Galion's given name is also Isalden. I figured there had to be some connection…"

"I suppose there's no point in mincing words. Yes, I am the heir to the king and queen, since both of their daughters were exiled. I was the daughter of one of Galion's chief retainers, and seeing as how I was educated in the ways of the sword and bow, I was recommended as a suitable heir."

"So that means you're Athena's stepsister?" Ryden asked.

"Yes, I suppose you could put it like that." she said, after a drawn silence.

Behind them, the calm stream hummed and ebbed lightly in the background, its soft sounds washing over them like the water it carried.

-----

Far off in the depths of Galiaen, Aslan Seles stood stoically facing the crown monarchs of the elves, both acknowledging the other with short bows. It was some time before Galion called for a cushion, saying that the Paladin didn't deserve to stand any more than they did.

Privately, Marron would have preferred to remain standing- he would have been able to get his point across clearer in a slightly more assertive position, but the hospitality of the elven king was too kind and too fragile to refuse. He slowly bent his knees and took a seat in front of his audience.

It was some time before Galion spoke. He had a rich, clear voice that seemed to boom across the halls of the throne room, even when he spoke in a soft tone. Marron was acutely aware of this because he knew it could be the voice that would pronounce his death. "Lisande sent word that you wished to have an audience with us."

"That is correct, _Eisandil." _Marron replied, using the elven term for respect. Thank _god_ he'd managed to remember that little speck of elvish at the Isle; otherwise this conversation would be ten thousand times harder to carry on. "I was sent by…the leader of Henesys to seek your assistance."

Galion's mouth twitched for a second before he responded, "Indeed. What does the leader of Henesys wish our assistance for?"

Marron winced inwardly. "There's a conflict- a war going on within Victoria Island. The human towns of Ellinia, Perion, and Kerning City have already been destroyed and we fear that Henesys may be next. We've already converted the town of Henesys into a stronghold, Elaesia, but supplies and manpower are woefully short, and we would humbly ask that you lend us assistance for the time being."

"I see." It was Riane who spoke next, her voice reminding the Paladin of Athena's. "Could this have any relation to the increase in the number of Tauros that reside in the forest?"

"Most likely, _Eisandil." _Marron calmly folded his arms in his lap. "My companions and I were asked to briefly scout Sleepywood before reporting to you. We too encountered many of the Tauros in the forest. This troubles us deeply, since they are usually not found outside of the Dungeon."

"That we are well aware of, Paladin." Galion replied. "But is your leader not capable enough of destroying a horde of rogue Tauros on her own?"

Marron sighed, his patience becoming somewhat drawn. "With all due respect, _Eisandil, _I am afraid that this matter far extends beyond an increase of Tauros. There was an overt conflict between our forces and the enemy faction. Many of our number were killed and we barely managed to defeat them." He considered including the fact that he had cast the deciding arte in their favor, but decided to let it slide. After all, he wasn't here for self-hype.

"I see your problem, Paladin, but here is ours." Galion leaned forward in his seat, eyeing the human before him with a thoughtful stare. "We in Galiaen are content and capable, and although I agree with your views, I would have an extremely difficult time convincing thousands of my subjects to leave their forest haunts and march to the aid of humans." He pressed his hands together. "Does this conflict have anything to do with Razier?"

Marron cursed himself inwardly. Here was a snag, and a big one at that- although for all he knew, the great demon of eld was not connected to this issue- he knew the elves would have no reason to aid them if the conflict did not concern them. The King and Queen's eyes were riveted upon him, waiting for an answer.

"It doesn't matter." He exhaled, and before either monarch could reply, launched into an impromptu monologue. "I realize that…that your people are perfectly content with their lives, and I agree- if I were in your position I wouldn't have any reason to send them into the midst of battle, either. But this is different. It could involve the destruction of a very large part of Victoria Island, and possibly the rest of Bera as well. And believe me, I'm in no position to mince words here. The elves and the humans have worked together despite their differences to overcome Razier in the past, and this isn't any different. If we don't…create an alliance, or something of that nature, it won't be a far-off guess to say that Sleepywood could be overrun at any moment…and considering the proximity of Galiaen in conjunction with that of Meteon E'traia, that moment may come all too soon." He let his final remark hang threateningly in the air.

The implications of the Paladin's words were apparent, even to the crown rulers. Galion spoke briefly to Riane before turning to Marron. "Very well. I see the wisdom of your argument, and I will confer about it later. In the meantime, I would strongly suggest that you rest for the night. It is a long trip back to Henesys."

"Yes. Thank you, _Eisandil." _Marron made a short bow before standing up and leaving the room. His momentary triumph at having won over the elves to their cause was replaced by apprehension. _What is Athena going to say when a bunch of elves start streaming into Elaesia? I'm going to have some fancy explaining to do…_

He put the thought out of his mind- all that mattered was that they now had the power they needed to possibly defeat Gault, and he hoped Athena would see this, as well.

He could only hope that they would not be destroyed by Meteon E'traia first.

-----

The rays of the rising sun began to peek over the Isle of Ascension, slowly and gently waking the island from its slumber. Birds and butterflies fluttered through the air as the calm light filtered through the forests, warm shades of green, blue, red, gold, and various other hues beginning to replace the night's darkness.

It was upon this scene that Zeraion Phoenix ventured out into when he awoke. He took a deep breath, the fresh, clean, air filling his lungs for a moment before he exhaled. He cast a glance at the sky and knew that there were still a few precious minutes before Gardner would awake to begin their training- might as well take advantage of it by going on an excursion. He quickly checked to make sure the Abyssal Arund was in his posession before jogging into the forest.

The forest scenes, as peaceful as ever, did not disappoint him as he ran towards the icon of Selena Pieralasca. He was wise enough to avoid the monster nests that lurked in the backwoods of the forest, and took a longer, but less climactic, path towards the shrine.

Once he was in the familiar clearing, the reassuring noise of the river sloshing in his ears, he ran a hand across his hair and sat against a flat slab of stone to enjoy the peace for a moment; he felt he could spend his entire life on this island and never cease to be amazed at its wonder or tranquility. Yet, somehow, as he rested against the stone, he felt as though something was missing, but what?

The feeling annoyed him like an incessant insect buzzing around his head, and he tried to alleviate it by walking several times around Selena's statue, as though epecting her to come alive and give him some advice, but nothing came.

He glanced upwards at the sky, the outline of the sun beginning to brighten, and realized that his time for resting was almost up; he had better get back to the waterfall.

Yet, as his eyes returned from the sky back towards the ground, he could see a figure sitting by the river, balanced peacefully upon a stone in the riverbed. As he stepped a bit closer, he could see that the figure had long, golden hair, and was wearing a gown of sea-azure; the very same one that he (or rather, Athos) had glimpsed yesterday.

His heart missed several beats as he realized what he'd been missing all along- companionship. True, he had Gardner, and Athos, but they were merely teachers, adults who in all honesty cared little about him other than his fighting abilities- he wanted someone to be with him and provide some measure of comfort to let him know he wasn't the only one on this planet, someone like Ark or Ascion.

Or Grace, for that matter.

Her hair blew softly around her figure as she sat calmly on the riverbank, her back turned to him. He paused before pinching himself, wanting to see if it was a dream of some sort.

It wasn't.

He paused, wondering whether to approach her; last time they had met, she was intent on cutting him to bits, but that seemed so long ago. There was something peaceful about her, something pure, and she wasn't the dead soul that Gault had resurrected so long ago. She was simply the Grace that he had seen those past years, the one who had kissed him, the one who had given him his Asianic Bow, and the one who he had held to the very end.

"Grace." he whispered aloud, but she did nothing, only continued to stare serenely across the river, her head still turned away from him. "Grace, I…I know you're there somewhere."

The words were a lie to him, because all she was was a phantasm of mana bound by an alchemic seal, but he wanted to believe _so badly _that they were true.

"Grace, I want you to know…" His heart slowly pulsed, the beat echoing through every fiber of his body, as he considered what he should say to her- but what _could _he say to someone he knew was dead?

"…I want you to know, I care for you." His words spilled out before he could stop himself. "I really do. I haven't ever stopped thinking about you, even if you died, and I…" He put a hand to his heart in a symbolic gesture, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "I know you're out there, somewhere, listening to me, and I want you to know, I _will _save you. I will take back your soul from Gault and reunite you with your body somehow, and then…we can be together again."

The words sounded corny and overused almost from the moment he spoke them, but they were _truth_- and that was all that really mattered to him as he began to walk towards her. She still made no move, no sign that she had heard any of what he'd said, but that couldn't stop him.

Nothing could.

"I love you, Grace." Zeraion Phoenix whispered into the sunrise, as he gently laid his hand upon her shoulder.

He never noticed that his hand had passed right through her, as though she had never been there.

* * *


	18. Queen's Knights To Rank Three

**Chapter 16**

Author's Note: Oh, hell. It's been ages (nearly a month) since I've updated. Sowwy, my peeps. I've made this chapter extremely long to compensate for the wait (52 pages, longest yet).

I also apologize for the previous chapter's author's note. As you can tell, I was in a very good mood when I wrote it. I'll try not to express my feelings in my author's notes any more and risk damaging your delicate, innocent minds that have yet to be tainted.

I meant to write this chapter a lot earlier, but you know writer's block, and all that shit called 'life' that I keep harping on about.

This chapter was one of the most difficult (both physically and mentally) to write, which is why it took so long. You can blame most of the strain on the Devil Children's scenes, which writing was like taking ipecac because it just wasn't orthodox. I found myself writing weird, acid-drenched dialogue which you'd likely find in an episode of _Yu-Gi-Oh_ that I wouldn't have normally written otherwise. Not to mention that having seven different plotlines sort of confused readers (although I personally don't give a rat's ass what other people think of multiple plotlines, I realize that keeping them might not be the best thing to do for my reviews count). Thank heavens I finally finished that. From this chapter on, the plot will be bilinear at most.

Oh yeah, for the Zeraion/Grace fanpeople out there, I've done another cute scene at the end of this chapter as reparation for the month-long wait. Hope you enjoy.

Therefore, for obvious reasons, I enjoyed writing this chapter, which basically means I hope it burns in hell and ceases to exist so that it may never plague humanity ever again.

In other news, Revolt of the Archers has now officially exceeded 500 pages and 250,000 words in length (507, to be exact).

Please read, enjoy, and review (in no particular order).

Tah.

-Kal

* * *

While the sun was rising over Zeraion Phoenix and the shores of the Isle of Ascension, it was beginning to fall over the skies of Elaesia. 

Fifteen year-old Ascion Blade watched the celestial star make its way through the inky expanse of orange and purple that the sky had become; carefully, he traced a line in the air from the sun to the edge of the horizon with his finger.

"The stars are going to be bright tonight." he murmured to himself, gently laying his hand upon his oaken desk. A disheveled stack of scribbled-upon papers and a small pile of broken quills were strewn about the wooden surface of the priest's table.

"Well…" He eyed the darkening sky some more before turning his attention back to the desk. "It looks like I'll have to apply quite a few corollaries to get through this one…" He deftly twirled a quill pen in his fingers before setting to work, the sound of the implement scratching as he scribbled down various reactions and their equations.

A knock on the door disrupted his recalling of Galan's Sixteenth Theorem. "Come in." he called, massaging his temples, expecting it to be some subordinate with a petty request.

He was right, but not in the way he'd expected.

High Captains Joseph Stalrigarde and Iris Gaiden entered through the door, both glancing at his piles of notes with a slightly amused air. Ascion pretended not to notice either of them as he sketched a parabola on the parchment before him.

It was the alchemist's voice that broke the uneasy silence. "You've been in here for four hours straight. Aren't you going to get some rest?"

"I know my own limits perfectly well, Stalrigarde." Ascion replied coolly, not looking up.

"Ascion, you won't be able to think straight if you don't get your rest." Iris chided, and he paused visibly before responding. "Perhaps."

"How long did you spend on the healing arte?" Joe inquired of the priest.

"About four- maybe five hours." Ascion calmly dipped his quill into the inkpot, drops of charcoal black staining the desk as he did so. "But that was different- gravity artes aren't so much my forte as healing and regeneration reactions." He cracked his knuckles, a series of sharp pops resounding through the room.

"I see." Seemingly from nowhere, the hermit pulled a chair to the desk and sat down, his eyes staring directly at the priest's dark-chocolate hair. "How are your…particle concentrations going?"

"Off by several kairns." Ascion indicated a ragged-looking stack of papers teetering on the corner of his desk with the feathered end of his quill before turning back to his equations. "I hate doing reactions- a bloody pain in the ass, if you ask me. You have to stack so many variables at once, and there's the matter of the Iselian constant which no one's still been able to narrow down farther than three decimal places…" He exhaled deeply, completing his soliloquy. "So yeah, I'm not doing too well."

"Hmm." The alchemist pulled a stack of papers towards him and examined the priest's neatly-written script. "And your oxide reactions?"

"Failures." Ascion neatly tapped the end of his quill against the edge of the inkpot, letting the excess drip back into the well. "What would you suggest?"

Iris silently watched them bicker as bits of obscure terminology cut through the air like gun pellets, striking painfully against her ears. She knew, as well as every other person in Elaesia, that _something _had to be done- but something told her that arguing about complicated kairn theory was not the answer.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat, causing both of them to look up. "What exactly are you two arguing about?"

"Gravity arte theory." Ascion replied, with a tinge of dark in his voice.

"Why? Just so you can move a couple of buildings through the air and rebuild Elaesia like a set of building blocks?" She shook her head, her emerald locks fluttering about her. "Ascion, let Joe handle this. Gravity artes aren't your specialty, and alchemy is more suited to material displacement than holy or healing techniques. You need your sleep, anyway."

The blonde-haired hermit grinned briefly in triumph before yanking the sheaf of pages out from under Ascion's nose and picking up a quill of his own, beginning to scribble alchemic equations onto the paper. Ascion glared indignantly at Iris for a second before relenting and standing up.

"Come on." she murmured gently, taking his hand and leading him from the small office, leaving the alchemist behind. "You shouldn't do this to yourself. We've all heard stories of famous mages who lost their arcane abilities due to mental degeneration through overexertion…" She sighed. "I don't want something like that to happen to you."

"Of course you don't." Ascion replied dully. Iris watched him with worry- ever since their fight with the Crimson Balrogs, he had been more distant and cold than ever, as though he had admitted something to her that he deeply regretted and was trying to get as far away from her as possible to ameliorate the situation.

"Look, Blade…" She exhaled as slowly as she could. "I know how you feel, with Zer and Ark off on duty, but you can't do this to yourself. It's not going to help matters if you drop dead of exhaustion all of a sudden."

He calmly ran a hand through his dark hair. "I guess you're right…but then again, it's also not going to help matters if we don't rebuild Elaesia."

"Ascion." The tone of her voice was slightly sharp and it made him raise his head a fraction of an inch upwards to look at her. "There's something I need to ask you, and I expect an honest answer."

"Go on." he replied, indifferently.

She took a deep breath. "When you said you cared about me…did you really mean it?"

The question itself was awkward, but even more so because Iris was several inches taller than the five years-younger Ascion. "Of course I meant it." He shook his head, his chocolate-colored hair fluttering about his neck, and allowed a faint smile. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have let you ride on the pretty dragon."

She ignored the jab. "Listen, Ascion. I…" She rolled her tongue around inside her mouth, choosing her words carefully so as not to give him something to hold over her head for the rest of her life. "I haven't really known you for that long-"

"Two years." he interrupted platonically, as though it was of no importance.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes before becoming serious once more. "I just wanted to let you know, I care about you…even more so than most of the people in here." she added, as an afterthought. "And I really don't want anything to happen to you…so don't overwork yourself." she said, her cheeks stained a faint shade of rose, before she hurried away.

Brigadier General Ascion Blade of Gamma Division, Psi Regiment, raised an eyebrow as he watched her leave.

Despite all the knowledge his mind contained, he knew all the magic theorems and corollaries in existence simply couldn't explain _why _his pulse always quickened and his forehead ached whenever he looked at her.

-----

_nightmare_

The serpent's grip was unyielding as its coils twirled about its prey's body, its body of blackened crystal cutting sharply into her limbs. Arklanser winced as the jagged edges of the creature's fins snarled through her armor, leaving dark cuts in the flesh.

_We are one once more, child…and this time, I shall not let you escape._

"Like hell you will." she snarled audibly, her eyes glowing a fiery crimson. "Explosion!"

The energy of the arte gathered, a ball of fiery air coalescing at the serpent's neck, before it ignited. Elements in the air fused and burned as the atmosphere suddenly erupted into brilliant flame, clouds of vicious orange and white searing through the air. The effect of the arte was enough to make the serpent loosen its grip slightly, allowing Arklanser to wrench herself out of its grasp. There was a deep cut in her side where the creature's scales had ripped through her mail, streaks of red staining the metal.

"_Foolish girl!" _the serpent snarled, its voice harsh and grating against her ears. _"You dare to stand against me?!"_

"Get away from me." Arklanser snarled, fury in her eyes as flame glinted at her fingertips. "I never wanted anything to do with you!"

"_You never had a choice, child." _the great beast growled, as it moved closer towards her. _"Why do you resist me? You know it's too late to change anything now."_

_"_I will _never _let myself fall into your grasp." the rangeress whispered, her knuckles clenched white. "All you are is a shadow of my past. You're nothing more than an illusion- just a series of electric pulses through my brain, and I won't allow myself to fall to you!" She held her bow aloft, the string drew back as she prepared to unleash an attack.

The serpent merely laughed- a sharp, grating noise that hurt her ears. _If that is what you want to believe, Delinia Arklanser…then so be it!_

With lightning speed, the great crystal behemoth whipped around and slammed its gigantic hammer-like tail into the side of her head. She flew backwards and hit the wall with a loud crack, a bitter taste in her mouth as blood oozed from her lips.

However, there was no time for pain, as she suddenly found those great glittering jaws of black charging towards her, ready to snap her in half. Swiftly, she rolled out of the way, its maw colliding with the wall behind her. As she watched in amazement, it sped straight through the wall, leaving a large hole behind. She barely had time to wonder where it had gone before it erupted from the ceiling, shooting towards her with its claws raised.

"Damn!" The bow shone with white light as she aimed it at its body, her hair flowing behind her body. "Strafe!" A quartet of golden beams exploded from her hands, striking the monster on its elongated body. It gave a howl of fury and whipped around to face her, its jaw raised. Without blinking, she kept the bowstring taut as the serpent bore down on her like a speeding train. "Explosion!"

The arrow burst forth, shining with a fiery glare, before it embedded itself in the roof of the beast's mouth. Thunder broke as the arcane shaft exploded, the air igniting ferociously with bursts of orange flame. The serpent reared back, letting out a roar of agony, as she dashed behind it and raised her bow once more in midair. "Impact Cannon!"

White light erupted from the limbs of her Nisrock as she aimed at the beast, the arte charging forward and barreling into the monster at supersonic speed, driving it backwards several feet as its body skidded into the wall with a crash. She landed on her feet, her knees bowed as she trailed her still-smoking fingers along the floor.

The crystal shakily rose itself upwards, its head cocked at her. _You…have grown, child._

"You're welcome." she replied coldly, her bow strung.

"_But you are still a helpless girl!" _it thundered in fury, its fangs elongating. _"Perish! Bloody Howling!" _Its nostrils and eyes flared as it opened its jaws, a bolt of dark lightning erupting from its mouth. The lightning exploded just a foot away from Arklanser, leaving a sizable hole in the wall; however, the gaping breach sealed itself almost as quickly as it had been made, shutting off any chance of escape.

"Shit!" The lightning was coming faster now, great lavender bolts of dark mana blasting holes in the walls and floor, and she decided it would be best to not remain stationary. Quickly, she sped across the floor of the wide room, the monster's growls echoing in her ears as the lightning exploded beneath her.

"You'll never take me alive, accursed crystal!" she roared, dashing towards the wall and launching herself off it in a sudden backflip, her palm raised and glowing with fire mana. "Meteor Lancer!"

A thin bolt of white flame spun from her fingers and sped towards the coiled serpent upon the ground. Despite its rather weak appearance, the arte was so powerful that it created an explosion the size of a land mine, obliterating the ground beneath it. She quickly spun on her heel as she landed and raised her bow. "Ether Inferno!" A burst of light magenta-colored flame erupted from the limbs, catching the crystal in the side of its great head. The neck of the monster flailed wildly as it was hit, the spikes along its head making deep rifts in the walls.

Delinia calmly watched her prey from across the room as it weakly raised its head. _Your fire artes have greatly improved, child. I am impressed._

"Don't be." She shook her head, her slightly scorched hair fluttering behind her. "We never should have met. It was an abomination."

_I agree. _The crystalline serpent calmly shuffled itself back together and fixed its gaze upon her. _It is not for man to trifle with the mysteries of mana. The inept scientists at Omega Sector have proved that._

"No." Arklanser shook her head. "They did what they had to. I can't possibly blame them for that, no matter how much I want to. I can't dwell in the past any longer, and…" She sighed, lowering her bow. "I can only imagine what it must have been like for my parents to do such a thing…"

_Ah. _The crystal nodded briefly, cackling to itself. _Your parents, indeed. We can only imagine what it must have felt like for them to consign their daughter into the throes of the unknown._ It sighed deeply, as though there were something it itself was regretting. _Human nature is a convoluted web of emotions and thoughts, each one more twisted and conflicting than the next. What I have seen in your mind is proof enough._

"Hmph." Arklanser shrugged and wondered why she wasn't releasing the arrow now. But this was probably the first time that the crystal within her had actually shown her any…well, emotion. If the explosion so long ago had triggered the arcane reaction, causing the crystal to gain a mind of its own, she might as well listen to what it had to say.

"You were horrible." she snarled, the bowstring tightening underneath her fingers, but not yet breaking. "Every minute of my life was a painful torture with you. Do you know how much pain I've suffered because of you?"

_I had no choice. _It gently bucked its head. _I am a sentient being, and I require mana to exist. Everything does. You should know that by now. I must do what I can to survive, even if it means drawing mana from you._

"That…that…" She shook her head roughly. "You can't say that. You were like a parasite. I couldn't…I couldn't do anything. It was like being a prisoner in my own body. It was so painful- everything, every second. I couldn't tell people what I felt because my emotions were suppressed. I could barely eat and drink without getting sick because I was losing my appetite. I couldn't even do anything without feeling fatigue and pain from your presence. You…you _accursed object!" _She lost her temper, flames rising from her fingers.

_Do you expect me, an inanimate object, to sympathize with you? I am the crystal, the object of mana that was placed into you fifteen years ago. I cannot take any responsibility for what has happened to you these past years._

"I…I know you can't." Her gaze fell towards the ground, her eyes half-closed. "But you could have tried, and you didn't. That's worst of all."

If she could have cried at that moment, she would have.

_You were weak. There was nothing I could do._

"Weak?" she asked coldly.

_Forgive me, but a ten year-old girl is not exactly the best possible source of mana one can receive. You were a fragile soul and I admit that it took nearly all of your mana to support my existence. You very nearly died. It is a miracle that you survived._

"You…" She shook her head. "If what you say is true, then I should have died long ago when the crystal was first injected. That doesn't make any sense…"

_No, you misunderstand. I lay dormant inside you for a period of three years. During that time, you experienced light mana loss, but nothing substantial, which is why you did not suffer any adverse effects. It was not until the accidental detonation of the Doomsday explosive that your parents helped develop that the arcane reaction occurred._

"The arcane reaction…" Her eyes suddenly flashed crimson with horror and anger. "No…!"

The bowstring trembled before snapping, the unstable mana exploding and sending Arklanser flying backwards, crashing into the wall. Slowly, the gigantic crystal serpent slithered forward, its body grating silently against the floor as it raised its head to eye her with a deadly glare.

"Y…you…" Blood trickled from the rangeress' mouth. "It was you…who killed all those people…"

_I do not deny it. I did what I must to survive._

"N-no!" She struggled to pull herself up as pain surged through her joints. "Do you realize what you did? You…you took control of my body…and used me!" Her eyes flared crimson with anger. "You killed my parents…my family…everybody!"

_They would have been killed by the alien invaders anyway. You know that as well as I. _The crystal's voice was cold and unmoving.

"Sh-_shut up!" _Her voice had risen to a fever pitch, her words saturated with anger and horror. "What do you know?! You could have- we could have- we could have killed them." Imaginary tears streamed forth from the eyes that couldn't cry. "But you turned on me like the _bastard _you were!"

_You should be more thankful that I saved your life that day._

"But you couldn't save anyone else's, could you?!" she roared furiously, anger beginning to flow through every vein of her body as she clenched her fist tightly, so hard that her fingernails cut into her palm and bled red rivers down her arm.

_It is irrelevant. What does it matter, when I have you, child? You and I are one and the same being, the same identity that laid Omega Sector to ruins fifteen years ago. Do not try to deny it- you are as guilty for that crime as I am._

"_**You…!" **_Anger flared up inside her, a fierce, roaring sensation that sent shockwaves through every inch of her body and pulsed fiercely through her veins, as fifteen years of pent-up hatred and emotion was released within her.

…_the flames of indignation burn her heart as she cries tears of crystal…_

White flame, brighter than the sun, exploded from her fingers as it enveloped her fist into a raging supernova of fire. As she slowly staggered to her feet, the flame began to creep up her arm, obscuring the limb in a piercing flash of heated light.

Now the flames were spreading from her shoulder, across her chest, and to her other shoulder, swallowing up her torso in a virtual breastplate of flame. As the crystal serpent watched in silence, the arcane blaze devoured her legs and her head until all that was left of her were her eyes, fierce slits of crimson through a curtain of white.

"_I will destroy you once and for all, crystal of hell!" _she roared, white flame materializing between her fingers to form a blazing battle staff. She surged forward, her spectral form leaving a iridescent trail of flame behind her. "_Perish! Crescent Strike!"_

The staff blazed fiercely in her hands as it swung through the air in a wide half-moon arc, smashing into the serpent's neck. With a savage battle cry, Arklanser spun in midair and bashed her legs into the side of the crystal with a savage kick, flames exploding from the point of impact. The serpent bucked furiously as it thrashed through the air, its tail nearly catching her in the side of the chest.

"You won't defeat me!" she snarled, twirling the weapon in a battle stance. "Razing Dragon!" She slammed the point of the blazing weapon into the ground, the floor beginning to crack as great rifts of flame spiraled from the hole in the ground, creating a large arcane glyph. The glyph then exploded in a huge column of flame, catching the serpent full-on as it reeled from the effect of the arte.

"_Foolish girl." _it snarled, slightly winded by the onslaught but still very much alive. _"You may possess some of the greatest artes this world has known, but you cannot cast them without my aid; without the power that the crystal generates, you are nothing. Know that once and for all!" _It raised its form to full height, towering over her with its jaw raised, rage glowing in its eyes. _"Severing Tempest!"_

The serpent hovered in the air for a deadly second before it disappeared into thin air. Arklanser wildly spun around to see where it had went; she got her answer a second later when it rematerialized just a few feet away from her and collided into her with the force of a missile, throwing her into the wall and leaving a gigantic crack in its surface. She barely had time to get up before it charged again, this time with an arcane arte. _"Arch Hell!"_

Bolts of dark fire ripped from the ground and slaked through Arklanser's shimmering form, white sparks exploding from her figure as the arte ripped through her like scissors through paper. She was thrown into the air like a rag doll as the crystal seized ahold of her, its coils cutting into her body.

_You are mine once more, child, and there is nothing you can do to stop it._

She struggled defiantly against the cold bonds that held her, but to no avail. The serpent had her in its clutches, and it would never let go.

_You were always weak, girl. You were a pitiful host body, barely able to save yourself, let alone others. You couldn't even take control of your own emotions when I possessed you, unable to show your true feelings to the world._

"D…don't…" She weakly gripped ahold of the monster's cold crystal body, as though trying to stop it.

_He loved you dearly, Delinia, and you could never return his affections. I wonder if he knows you're here, alone and helpless like the weak girl you are. But it doesn't matter…because he can't help you. No one can._

"Wh-who are you talking about?" she whispered, her voice a sliver in the empty atmosphere.

_You know perfectly well who I'm talking about, Delinia…perhaps if you **look **into your heart, you may see the **sinful clarity**_.

The mocking tone of the crystal's thinly disguised wordplay was torture, as she could almost see his face in the white room.

_And now, here you are, lost and forsaken like you deserve to be. I wonder if Rysdale, Traphes, or Natalia are bothering to look for you right now…however, I doubt it. After all, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link…and I suppose we all know who that is._

For some time, there was silence, until the soft sound of a whisper cut through the cold air of the temporal chamber.

_You're wrong. I…I owe a debt to my best friend, and I will save her. And you won't stop me!_

With a great effort, she closed her eyes and concentrated the particles of mana in the air, invoking the power of an arcane arte to aid her. A second later, her spectral form shimmered brightly before coalescing into a small pillar of white flame; through this method, she slid easily out of the monster's grasp before her figure reformed, battle staff in hand.

_What?!_

"This is the last time you'll ever haunt me again!" she snarled, her weapon aflame as she charged. "Dragon's Dance!"

She thrust the staff forward, its edge driving into the body of the crystalline serpent with great force. An explosion rang out through the room, sending it flying backwards. Before it had a chance to react, she followed into a spin kick, using her staff for leverage as she vaulted herself against the thing's body, a series of satisfying cracks filling the room. However, it slithered back towards her seemingly unhurt as it opened its mouth to retaliate. _"Negative Gate!"_

A gigantic explosion of dark-purple lightning burst from its mouth and caught her head-on, flinging her into the air like a rag doll and smashing her into the ceiling at full force. The serpent caught her in mid-air and cracked the end of its tail like a whip, barreling into her side and sending her flying into the air. With a series of intricately lethal curves, the crystal monstrosity flashed through the air in a series of strikes, playing ping-pong with her battered figure against the wall.

It finally caught her with the end of its tail and pile-drove her into the ground, creating a gigantic crater in the ground. With death in its eyes, it hovered over her, inching closer for the kill.

"_See…how useless you are?" _it hissed, coldly. _"You can't even protect yourself from me. You're mine, girl."_

She lay motionless on the cracked ground, staring up into its bloody eyes of crimson flame.

Her own.

…_her body lies, weak and helpless, as her soul is consumed by the darkness that surrounds her…_

"Meteor Lancer!" she bellowed, indignation strengthening her as she flung her arm forward and sent a brilliant bolt of concentrated force hurtling at the serpent. It gave a cry of pain as the arte struck its mark; a howling, inhuman roar that tore at her ears and nearly rendered her unconscious. But she had to survive. For them…

The battle staff blazed up in her hands once more as she twirled it above her head and lashed out in a backhanded drive, a flash of bright flame throwing itself into the air as the arcane weapon made contact. Without pausing, she launched the staff into the ground, using it as leverage as she threw herself into the air like a pole vaulter. Flying through the air, she raised her hand, glowing with arcane force, and drove it against the serpent's forehead. _"_Blazing Wrath!"

A mushroom cloud of orange flame erupted into the air as the serpent staggered, crumpling slightly as she landed; without faltering, she leaped forward, her staff in hand as she launched into a series of blows.

"You may be a part of me," she began, as the staff arced upwards and caught the crystal in the torso, "but I won't let you rule my life!" She swung the lance in a wide sweep and lashed upwards, her palm emitting a burst of flame that sent her enemy hurtling into the air. "_I have my friends, and you'll never take that away from me!"_

"_Your friends!" _The serpent hissed cruelly and arched itself upward as it charged towards her. _"What are your friends- merely innocent pawns in your game of good-and-evil? You owe them your life, Delinia! Without them, you're useless- a weak vessel for my needs!"_

"_Don't…you dare…insult them!" _she roared, fingers of flame twirling a brand of white magic through the air for the last time, as one strike melted into two, then three, then ten, until they were a constant stream of blows that were the rage and pain of twenty-five years.

The serpent staggered and raised its head to strike, but she leapt upwards, trailing tears of flame, as she twisted her wrist around and dealt a fierce blow to its upper jaw. It flailed backwards in pain as she lashed out with her legs, catching its neck and grotesquely twisting its head. She then launched herself upwards and raised her staff above her shoulders, the edge blazing with indestructible heat as a arcane glyph began to form underneath the crystal. It raised its head and struggled to get away, but the seal seemed to be holding it firmly in place as her eyes blazed a bloody vermilion, preparing to cast the final arte.

"_**Brilliant Nightmare!!"**_

The staff blazed downwards as the seal broke forth with a torrent of abyssal flame. A kaleidoscope of magenta, crimson, white, and silver erupted forth from the floor, catching the serpent in its deadly wake and blasting a large fissure through the ground and ceiling in a continuous bolt of flame. The walls of the room shook like an earthquake as the serpent's howl disintegrated into a dark cry that echoed in her ears, a vicious noise that haunted her even as the remnants of white flame unfurled away from her body, leaving her human once more.

She exhaled as calmly as she could under the circumstances, white wisps of smoke trailing out of the corners of her lips. Her armor was worse for the wear- slash marks and blood covered the majority of the mail- but at least she was alive.

She could only hope the same for the other three.

She raised her eyes to see the figure of the serpent shadowed in the destruction of the room, but despite all the damage she'd wrought upon it- even going so far as to use a 580-kairn arte as a finishing touch- it merely looked asleep, its head gently lolling back and forth as it slumbered peacefully. She wondered if she should attack it once more, but a sudden spasm of her aching muscles told her otherwise.

A touch of her heart gave way to shudders as she realized every one of its words had been true. She had been weak- weak, cold, and fairly indifferent, unable to show her true feelings to the world, and it had all been because of that _damned _piece of rock inside her.

With great power comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes suffering.

As the walls melted around her and the crystal serpent disappeared into the obscure abyss of her heart, the shudders became sobs, and the sobs became tears of crystal, each one darker than the next, as they clinked quietly against the cold, emotionless floor of Meteon E'traia.

-----

"So…you're a princess, huh?"

Lisande Isalden raised her eyebrow at Ark Wolfen's awkward attempt to break the silence that pervaded the gardens. "Yes."

"Be that as it may," Ryden said, continuing smoothly, "the fact remains that we have to do something regarding Elaesia. The worst is yet to come, and I don't think it's a good idea to stay around here much longer."

"Yes. We have to get military aid." Ark sighed, massaging his temples. He turned to Lisande with a worried expression. "Do you think-"

Lisande shrugged darkly. "I don't know. I may be able to get you some limited forces from the Imperial Guard, but without Galion's permission there is not much we can do."

"Damn it." Ryden punched a fist into his palm. "Then we've got to convince him-"

"It's been taken care of." Aslan Seles replied coolly as he stepped calmly across the stones that made a bridge across the small stream. "Lady Isalden." he nodded, acknowledging the princess with a bow.

"Dariel!" Ryden's eyebrows arched upwards in surprise, as did Ark's. "What do you mean, it's been-"

"I put on a little show for Galion and Riane." The Paladin shrugged, practical as ever. "But to make a long story short, we can get a preemptive force to Elaesia soon, at least within a day or two."

"Excellent. At least we didn't make this trip into the forest for nothing." Ryden cracked his knuckles. "When do you suggest we head back to Elaesia?"

"You two can leave now, if you want." Marron shrugged listlessly. "I may have to stay here and reconnoiter the situation- apparently, being a Paladin does grant one much influence in the elven council."

"Or maybe if you're the stuck-up son of a Dark Knight." Ryden muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing." Ryden calmly tousled his hair. "All right. Dariel, if you didn't want us around, you could've just said so. Come on, Ark." Both warriors stood up to leave.

"Wait." Lisande held up a hand to stop them. "It's past midnight, and it's pitch-black in the forest. You won't be able to get more than several meters before you're killed. Besides, you need time to recover from your earlier skirmishes. You should at least rest for tonight."

There was a pregnant pause before Ryden slowly said, "Yes…good point. Do you think you could get us a room or two somewhere?"

"I'll see what I can do." Lisande bowed shortly before striding into the forest towards the city. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ryden turned to the swordsman with a bemused expression. "Lady Isalden?" he repeated, somewhat skeptically.

"She _is _of royalty, and I would think it wise not to offend her." the Paladin replied bluntly. "Anyway, you should take her advice and get some rest. It's a long way back to Elaesia tomorrow."

Ryden muttered something offensive under his breath before relenting and striding into the forest. Ark watched him beadily before turning his attention back to the warrior. "Something on your mind, Marron?"

"No." The aforementioned swordsman flicked a strand of blonde hair out of his eyes. "I spent most of the last hour talking with Galion and Riane, if you must know."

"What were they like?" Ark asked curiously.

Marron shrugged disinterestedly. "They were as polite as could be expected under the circumstances. In other words, I didn't expect much from them. They did make for decent conversation, though."

Ark sighed balefully. "Marron, something's wrong with you."

"I could tell, from the number of times you and Ryden have been calling me a stuck-up egotistical bastard behind my back." He stretched his arms outwards, cracking his knuckles. "Your point?"

"Look, Dariel…" Ark sighed, kneading his hands in his lap. "Two years ago, I didn't know about the…situation between you and Seles. I couldn't have known, but…" He exhaled. "That doesn't change anything. I care about you. We care about you…even Ryden." he added, as an afterthought. "Even if he has on more than one occasion called you a few names."

"Hm." The Paladin raised an eyebrow in half-hearted amusement. "I'm not surprised."

Ark merely stared up into the canopy of trees. "Remember when Seles used to tell us to kill drakes in the Dangerous Valley?"

"Yes."

"And you ran away from one, nearly leaving me for barbecue." Ark exhaled in reminiscence. "I wouldn't have expected that from you now…but at least you were human back then."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Any time you want, I'll take you on at Dangerous Valley. Of course, it would be kind of pointless, since I could use Blizzard Charge to freeze the whole thing over, but if you want…"

"Just shut up, Dariel." Ark shook his head and ran a finger across his forehead. "The point is, you've been a lot more distant since then. When you decided to take it upon yourself to try and kill Zer- which I still haven't quite forgiven you for, by the way," he added, making a violent gesture in midair, "and then you ran off to El Nath and Ryden had to get you back- and need I add, you almost killed _him _too."

"Keep talking and I'll add another check to my list of attempted assassinations."

Ark ignored the remark. "Whatever. It's just that…I know this sounds crazy, but I think I know how you feel."

"What?!" Sparks flew from Marron's eyes as he recoiled at the remark. "How could you say something like that?! You- your father never betrayed you!"

Ark merely returned the Paladin's raging look with a somber expression- one Marron, or anyone else for that matter, had ever seen him use. It was actually enough to make the Paladin quiet for a brief moment.

"He did, Dariel."

The Paladin was surprised enough to stay quiet. "What…happened?"

The axeman's eyes glanced briefly about the landscape before he lowered his voice to a low whisper. "Swear on your word as a Paladin that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"I…" Marron was taken aback by the sudden change in Ark's expression. "I promise."

"All right." Ark lowered his gaze and slid his hand into his cuirass, his fingers opening a pocket that Marron hadn't known was there. With a nimble motion, Ark drew what seemed to be an envelope from his armor. It was yellowed and slightly torn- almost as old as the crusader himself.

Wordlessly, Ark passed the envelope to the Paladin and turned his gaze to the ground. Marron looked uncertainly at his companion before gently shaking the envelope upside down. A neatly-folded scrap of parchment fell into his hand- slightly faded and musty, but in surprisingly good condition, unlike the envelope it had been encased in.

Carefully, he unfolded the sheet of paper and read it. As Ark watched silently, Marron's eyebrows flew upwards like a cannon shot and didn't return to their original expression until the letter was safely back in its envelope.

"Holy…_shit."_ The Paladin exhaled deeply and returned the letter to the axeman, who pocketed it as wordlessly as it had came. "I never knew…"

"Of course you didn't." Ark replied, obviously eager to end the conversation as soon as possible. "So now, we're even."

"Have…" Marron carefully rolled his tongue around inside of his mouth. "Have you told Zer- or Ascion yet?"

"No." Ark silently fingered the pendant around his neck. "And I don't plan to, unless-"

His voice suddenly broke, and for once in his life, Dariel Marron had enough sense to excuse himself, citing discussion of elven laws with Galion and Riane.

Ark Rafael Wolfen calmly watched the Paladin leave, his footsteps echoing across the empty elven forest, illuminated by the light of the midnight moon.

Silently, he lay back against the cold stone of Lisande's garden and watched the stream flow.

-----

"Zeraion. _Zeraion!"_

"Wha-" Zeraion Phoenix rolled off the edge of the rock he'd been lying on. "Gardner!"

"Yes, that is my name." the bowmaster replied calmly. "Now, if I understand correctly, you still have the whole day ahead of you, and I would greatly appreciate it if you did not sleep through it."

"Ugh." Zeraion shook his hair out of his eyes and blinked sloppily at Gardner. "Sorry. I just…" He trailed off, wondering what to say, but his words were lost in the face of the bowmaster's stern expression. "I've just been a little…preoccupied, is all."

"I see." To Zeraion's surprise, Rathias Gardner sat down next to him. "Misery shared is misery halved. What troubles you?"

"I…" Zeraion felt entirely awkward; Grace was not a subject he wanted to discuss with anyone, least of all his teacher. "A long time ago, I…met a girl."

"Now you're going to tell me she ripped your heart out, put it through a blender, and force-fed it back to you."

Zeraion ignored Gardner's morbid sense of humor. "No. Actually, I…I really liked her. I met her in the Dangerous Valley…it seems only yesterday that I blew up my left arm and she helped me." He raised his left arm and smiled humorlessly. "It sounds kind of weird for me to say, but I fell in love with her. She was so beautiful and nice…if a little roguish." He sighed balefully and turned his eyes to the exact spot on the riverbank where Grace had sat. "You wouldn't know, would you?"

"Why, Zeraion, I'm surprised." Gardner put a hand to his heart in an expression of mock dismay. "Is that all you take me for- an old, loveless man?" He chuckled and tossed his ponytail behind his shoulders before he stared into the expanse of forest. "As a matter of fact, I _do _know what you're talking about- somewhat."

"What? You had a childhood crush or something?" Zeraion asked, surprised.

"Well, I wasn't exactly very popular in my early years, if you must know." The bowmaster chuckled in reminiscence. "As a young lad, I had rather short hair- which, I later learned, was not a desirable trait among Henesys' girls." He lowered his gaze to the riverbank. "On more than one occasion, I was kindly referred to as 'Ratty Rathias."

Zeraion resisted the impulse to snicker. "What happened?"

"Well, after I became the only person to master Final Attack in about a hundred years, that stopped the teasing…somewhat." Gardner calmly ran his fingers through his hair. "However, I did have enough sense to grow my hair long- I was made several offers by various women soon after that."

"Well, did…" Zeraion bit his tongue. "Did you ever find someone that you truly loved- that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?"

The bowmaster calmly considered the question before replying, "Yes."

"Who was she?"

Gardner's face visibly tightened before he responded, "Perhaps I'll tell you later, when this entire mess with Elaesia is over." His expression changed at the speed of light as he cheerfully continued, "But right now, I think it would be more prudent for you to practice your strike artes than to discuss my personal life." He got up and motioned for the ranger to follow him.

Within minutes, they were once more behind the waterfall, the roaring sound of the watercourse echoing in Zeraion's ears. The silence of the cavern awed Zeraion as he stood at one end of the great stone arena, facing Gardner with the Abyssal Arund in his hand.

"Let's see if you can break your previous record, Phoenix." Gardner said simply before raising his Shinebow into the air, white light gathering at its limbs. "Strafe!"

Dodging arrows was now second-nature to Zeraion; he deftly rolled to the side and skidded out of the way of the incoming projectiles. Raising the Abyssal Arund, he focused the energy of the weapon and raised it to his shoulders. "Inferno Strafe!"

The familiar bolts of flame erupted from the limbs of his bow and impacted the ground at full force, leaving a set of four smoking craters in the ground. However, when the smoke cleared, the bowmaster was nowhere to be seen.

"Sh-" Zeraion's eyes darted about the cavern for a split second before a bolt of lightning exploded from the ceiling. With no time to run, he raised a hand and commanded, "Thunder Spear!" He raised the lance above his head and repelled the bolt with a backhand slash, sparks dissipating in front of his eyes.

Gardner suddenly leapt downwards from the air as though from nowhere, a large lance of lightning clutched in his outstretched hand as he hurtled towards the ranger. "Dragon Fury!"

Zeraion planted himself firmly in the ground and raised his own weapon to guard against the incoming strike. The impact was so powerful that it threw him off his feet and sent him flying into the rock wall. Wincing, Zeraion slid off the rock face and charged forward. "Thunder Lance!"

Lightning blazed from the point of the spear as he jabbed it towards his opponent; Gardner parried the strikes with a spiral motion of his own weapon. Undaunted, Zeraion sidestepped and charged from behind, lashing out with a backhanded stab. "Riving Gale!"

The point of the spear glowed emerald with mana as Zeraion's slash set off a chain reaction of wind blades, gusting towards the bowmaster. Gardner's eyes widened for a split second before he commanded, "Bastion!" The incoming arte impacted fiercely against the arcane shield, but it withstood the attack.

"Not bad, Phoenix." Gardner's face showed he was clearly impressed. "Your usage of strike artes are indeed improving. However…let's see what you can do in a direct duel!" He raised the spear and charged. "Impaling Heaven!"

Zeraion thrust his arm out and held the blade of the spear out, the force of Gardner's attack impacting fiercely against the weapon. Zeraion then nimbly brought the shaft above his shoulders as Gardner attempted an attack from above, the spears exploding furiously against each other with each motion.

"Let's go!" Zeraion shouted, swinging his lance to the side. "Radiant End!" He launched into a series of rapid stabs with the lance, each of which Gardner calmly defended against with a few swipes of his weapon. Refusing to back down, Zeraion followed into the second part of the attack and shifted his wrist farther up the blade to give it more leverage. He then wrenched the head of the weapon through the air, a trail of lightning illuminating the cavern as the attack made contact.

Gardner skidded backwards, panting with his spear clutched in hand. On his shoulder plate, there was a faint cut through which a small trickle of crimson could be seen. "Impressive indeed, Phoenix. You have a gift for seeing openings in battle…"

Before Zeraion could appreciate the compliment, Gardner avulsed the spear with a flick of his wrist and raised his Shinebow, the weapon glittering dangerously. "Conflagration!"

A sudden burst of crimson-orange flame erupted from the bowmaster's weapon and soared towards Zeraion like the jaws of some gaping monster. Zeraion attempted to guard with the spear, but it wasn't enough. The arte collided with him head-on and sent him soaring through the cavern before plummeting to the ground with a thud, his armor visibly scorched.

"You need to work on your defensive artes, Zeraion." Gardner said calmly, approaching the stunned ranger. "I appreciate that you took the time to teach yourself Riving Gale, which is indeed a powerful strike arte that rivals that of Hurricane…but remember, just as the best defense is a good offense, the best offense can also be a good defense." He calmly studied Zeraion for a moment before he tossed the ranger a small glass vial of something lavender-colored. "This is a restorative unguent. It's highly concentrated, so you will only need to take a sip at a time. Use it, then get back on your feet. I will need to teach you a defensive tactic or two."

Zeraion uncorked the vial and took a sip, after which he immediately swore. Gardner raised an eyebrow, but Zeraion felt it was not the best time to tell the bowmaster that the fluid tasted like toilet water. However, he _did _feel his wounds closing up almost immediately, and true to his word, got to his feet.

"Now, Zeraion." Gardner's clear voice rang through the air and brought the ranger back to his senses. "A defensive arte is usually an arcane or elemental arte that uses mana to conjure a shield or ward of some sort about you. Puppet is such an example, but because it is unwise to use it in confined situations, it is better if I teach you a barrier arte- in other words, a spell that will allow you to create an invisible shield about you that will absorb or otherwise deflect attacks. Bastion is an example of such an arte, but I would rather have you start with Guardian, as it is slightly simpler to learn."

"Okay." Zeraion cracked his knuckles. "What should I do?"

"Like Puppet, you should concentrate and focus on the mana- but this time, remember your meditations. Allow the mana currents around you to surround you and shield your body from harm. We will try it now." He raised his Shinebow to his shoulder and commanded, "Strafe!"

Four bolts of light erupted from the bowmaster's fist and hurtled towards Zeraion. Closing his eyes, he dove into the power of the mana currents, concentrating harder than he had done before. _I need to find the mana currents…ah, damn, this isn't working…!_

"Guardian!" Zeraion raised his arm only moments before the arrows were about to pierce him. The shield held up against the first two arrows before it shattered, leaving Zeraion at the mercy of the other two. He let out a scream of pain as the shafts embedded themselves in the side of his chest and pierced his knee.

Gardner sighed in exasperation. "You're lucky I didn't aim for any of your vital points. Take a drink, and we'll try again."

Zeraion scowled before downing another mouthful of the lavender-colored fluid, at which his wounds closed up. He staggered to his feet and eyed the bowmaster with derision.

"Now, focus yourself and concentrate this time." Gardner raised the Shinebow once more. "Strafe!"

-----

"_Now…I'm going to do what I should have done fifteen years ago." _she snarled, as she advanced towards him, a plume of orange flame glimmering at the tips of her claws. "_Farewell, brother."_

"Lauranthalas…" Rysdale Tales whispered into the blizzard, his hands hanging limply at his sides. All the analyticism and logic that had made up his mind had shattered. Even…even if this was all an illusion, the temporal arte had completely taken control of his mind now.

Reality and nightmare had collided in the worst possible way, and the result was hurtling towards him with too much speed to fathom.

"Blizzard Sword!" He raised his hands and felt mana flow into them, as the summoning arte took hold. The thin blade of crystal rested in his hands not a moment too soon, as Laura's claws came extremely close to severing his face.

"Sis…_stop!" _He winced as a sudden gust of icy wind blew into his face. "Look, I'm sorry for everything I've done. I really am. But you've got to help me!"

_"You never helped me when I needed you, brother," _the werewolf snarled, its claws raised. _"So why should I help you now?" _It raised its claws, glittering with energy. "_Blazing Wrath!"_

Rysdale deftly leapt out of the way as the snowy ground obliterated itself into bits underneath him, specks of ice and rock showering his hauberk. "Laura, don't do this!" he snarled, holding the icy brand aloft. The sword was only about an inch wide, but it was four feet long and as reinforced with arcane magic. He could easily have sought out an opening and carved the wolf into slices, but he couldn't.

Because after all, she was still his sister.

"_Die, brother!" _Laura howled to the sky as she raised a gigantic clawed arm upwards. "_Searing Sorrow!"_

A jet of crimson-gold mana spiraled from the arcane glyph at her feet and shot towards the sniper with the speed of a missile. Rysdale's eyes widened as he saw the assault barreling towards him. Thinking fast, he slammed his blade into the ground and propelled himself through the air, narrowly dodging the brunt of the arte as it melted the snow beneath him into smooth, slippery ice.

Unfortunately, he chose to land in front of Laura- and that was a very bad place to be considering the size and sharpness of her claws. She let out a feral roar and swiped her right arm at his body, forcing him to bring the blade down to defend against the attack. She launched her left fist at him, which he jumped into the air to evade, then lashed out with a leg sweep that caught him straight in the chest and sent him flying through the air before crashing into a large tree.

_Damn. _Rysdale spit out flecks of blood and snow before turning to face the wolf, wincing. _I could easily skewer her with an ice arte from here, but I can't do that. She's still my sister, illusion or not, and I…I can't tell what's right and what's not anymore!_

Astoundingly, though, Laura must have read his mind, because she growled, _"You never did, Rysdale." _He saw the cold-as-steel claws arc through the air once more before she commanded, "_Meteor Lancer!"_

_Damn! _Rysdale quickly stumbled to his feet and launched himself through the air. He hit the ice with a painful thud as the ground exploded behind him. _Her artes are much too strong for me to negotiate, and if she keeps up like this, my stamina won't last much longer. _His sapphire gaze flickered to the snow about him. _Maybe I can disable her or something._

Shouldering the elongated blade, he flicked his wrist and commanded, "Icy Hellpike!" Spears of ice erupted forth from the ground, but they flew up just inches away from the wolf's feet, surrounding her in a gigantic icy cage.

Rysdale got to his feet and watched as Laura roared and snarled in her frigid prison. He watched a second too long, though, because she raised a gigantic claw and cut through the ice like paper. She pointed her clawed hand at him and howled, _"Explosion!"_

Too stunned even to guard, Rysdale took the full force of the arte and was thrown into the air, smashing into a treetop before plummeting towards the ground. He fell into a snowbank, which cushioned his fall somewhat. Unfortunately, that did nothing for the scorched armor and skin that covered his front.

"Sis, please!" He managed to get to his feet and pointed his sword as threateningly as he could at her. "You don't know what you're doing. Don't you remember? I-I cared about you. I really did, and I mean that."

The words would have been unimpressive if not for the fact that a frozen tear streaked down his cheek as he talked. He noticed that the wolf had actually faltered somewhat.

"Laura, I promised that I would avenge you." In a gesture of faith and desperation, he flung his sword away from him, where it disappeared underneath the snow. "I can do that for you, sis, but you have to listen to me. Help me and save me from the sins I've committed."

She paused briefly for a moment before she laughed, a caustic sound that did nothing to help the sniper's mood. _"I wish I could believe you, Rysdale…"_

"…_but is there any point in trusting the words of someone who let you die?"  
_

The guilt came back at full force, and that was all she needed; before he could react, she bounded forward on all fours and slammed her lycanthropic fist into her brother. The sound of bones cracking jarred the landscape as Rysdale staggered and choked, blood trickling from his mouth.

"_Look how helpless you are, brother." _Her voice had resumed its mocking, biting edge. _"It's exactly the same as fifteen years ago…but this time, you don't have anyone to die for you, don't you? You're on your own, forsaken like the devil child you are."_

He tried to speak, but no sound came forth except for a gurgling noise, as fluid continued to trickle from the corners of his mouth. A bubble of blood gathered at his lips and burst.

She grinned evilly and launched herself forward, her leg flying out in an unusually nimble spin kick. The sole of her foot crushed into his chest as her claws raked across his neck and face, leaving two deep cuts in the flesh. Pain exploded through him as the icy cold bit at his wounds, blood seeping into the snow.

_Is this what it feels like…to be consumed by one's own sin?_

He was vulnerable and unarmed, his sword lying somewhere in a snowdrift, and he was going to die.

In the world of illusions, death is the only thing you can be sure is real.

"_It's a shame your friends can't help you now." _Her voice cut through the frigid air and hurt him more than her claws. _"I'm sure if Traphes were here, he'd lend you a hand…"_

_"_…Iggy…" The word floated forth from Tales' lips before it was mercilessly crushed by the blizzard.

"…_but then again, he isn't here, because of you!" _She cackled madly as she raised a claw above her head. _"It's time for you to die! Finality!"_

Somehow, despite the massive amount of pain that was piercing through his body, he managed to throw himself out of the way as the arte erupted through the ground, a pillar of fiery wind blades rising into the air. That was enough to stun her for a precious split second, and in the midst of the snow he wrenched out his crossbow and mentally loaded a bolt into it.

"Arrow Eruption!" he roared, rose-colored bolts splintering through the ground and catching the wolf across the face and chest, wounding her and managing to divert her attention. He seized the opportunity and flicked his fingers, commanding, "Golden Eagle!" At once, the regal bird of prey materialized in front of him, and he managed to climb onto it, soaring into the air.

Laura swore roughly before raising her claw and aiming a series of fire artes into the air. _"Fire Arrow! Meteor Lancer! Explosion!"_

Wounded though he was, Rysdale still managed to fly the eagle through the blizzard as fire exploded around him, sparks searing his face. He tried to execute a series of intricate maneuvers through the air, but decided against it when he found himself getting sick to his stomach.

He had to think of a way to get out of this. He had to survive.

"_You'll never escape me!" _the wolf howled from down below, her cries piercing through the wind and cutting into his ears. _"No one can escape from their sins!"_

"My sins…" he whispered, the bitterly cold wind knifing his already wounded cheeks.

"_Now, come down," _she roared, raising a claw, "_and join me in the afterlife! Supernova!"_

The blast seared Rysdale's eyes before he heard it, a tremendous sonic boom that sounded as though the entire world had come to a violent end. He felt a powerful wave of heat energy slam into him; the eagle vanished underneath him, and he was falling to his end.

"Frigid Grave!" he commanded in midair, blue sparks flying from his fingers as the arte took effect. Pillars of ice burst forth from the ground in gradually increasing heights, as they rose up to meet him. His feet hit the ice with a head-shaking thud, but out of dexterity and sheer luck he managed to keep his balance. Using the icy platforms, he leapt safely to the ground, his long amber hair trailing behind him as ice coated his spectacles.

"Prove to me…" he snarled, his crossbow loaded and raised. "…That you're really my sister."

The werewolf paused for a second before it closed its eyes, its outline shimmering in front of him. As Rysdale watched in trepidation, the figure shrunk, the hair and claws receded, and suddenly the human figure of Lauranthalas Tales was standing in front of him once more.

Slowly, Rysdale walked over to the figure of his sister and stared into her eyes. They were a cloudy ice-gray, the same shade as the blizzard clouds that hovered above them.

"Join me, brother," she murmured, holding her hand out to him, "so we can be together once more."

He slowly stretched out his hand, his fingers just a couple of inches away from hers.

Then he spun on his heel and slammed his right foot in her chest.

Laura flew backwards, her body arcing through the air before hitting a tree and sliding down limply. She made as if to get up, but Rysdale stood firmly in front of her and cut off all means of escape.

"Rysdale…" she whimpered. "What-"

She was cut off by a fierce glare from her brother, who raised his hand, blue sparks gathering at his fingertips.

"You're not my sister, demon," he snarled, "because my sister would never have wanted me to die. She gave her humanity and her life for me, and I promised her that I would find a way to save her. I couldn't fulfill my first promise…"

Icy lightning crackled in the flat of his palm as the familiar rush and the sensation of cold crystal greeted his skin once more, the shimmering brand resting comfortably in his hand.

"But I won't let you break my second! _Ascension!"_

He twirled the starlike sword about his head before plunging it into the ground, a wave of icy flak erupting from the fissure that the blade created in the ground. An inhuman wail erupted from Laura's mouth as she was blown away by the fierce storm. Without pausing, he leaped into the air, his sword raised as he neared her. He swept the sword across her body in several wide arcs, frozen fragments of her body being chipped away with every slash, until he raised the sword one final time and brought it down upon her head.

The cold crystal pierced through her body neatly in one stroke. As he withdrew his sword from her shimmering figure, several bright cracks of light spiraled out from the wound, splitting her body into even more fragments, until she simply exploded, flecks of light dancing in the shadow of his glasses.

She was no more, and the illusion had been broken. The snow abruptly stopped before it melted into oblivion, the trees, rocks, mountains all dissipating before his eyes, until he was standing in the empty, desolate hall of Meteon E'traia once more.

Rysdale Tales closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He knew that it had all just been an illusion. Nothing had changed; he knew perfectly well that his sister had always and would always love him, no matter the circumstances. He would avenge her in the end, and all would be well.

…yet somehow, the tears just wouldn't stop.

-----

"Delinia! Are you all right?!"

Delinia Arklanser whirled around to see Rysdale Tales, resplendent in a bloody hauberk, his crossbow hitched over his shoulder as a blade of pure ice rested at his side. Delinia winced as she looked over his figure- he definitely looked as though he'd gotten the worst of a fight. Could he have gone through something similar to her experience?

She shook her head to try and clear her mind, swearing when that didn't work. "You look beat up." she noted darkly.

"I'm still alive." he replied flatly. Casting a look over her figure, he added, "You don't exactly look like a bowl of fruit yourself." As she caught sight of her reflection against the wall, she realized that he was right. Scorch marks and blood crisscrossed her body, and evident by the small accumulation of black pearls on the ground, she'd been crying. She was somewhat embarrassed until she examined his face and realized he'd been crying as well.

"What…happened?" she asked him gingerly.

Tales merely shrugged darkly and replied, "I don't want to talk about it, and I don't think you want to either."

She nodded, as if she understood. There was no need for words in a situation such as this. "What do you think it was?"

The sniper cracked his knuckles. "Probably a temporal arte, designed to create an illusion in which we were confronted by our worst fears. It was too obvious, but nevertheless effective." Arklanser couldn't help noticing that he was suppressing a shudder. She didn't blame him- she felt like doing the same.

"I see. I thought as much." She nodded before examining herself in more detail. "But if you're right, then how did we accumulate all those wounds? Temporal artes aren't supposed to inflict physical damage on their targets…"

"True. However, if the magnitude of the arte is great enough, it can send pain signals to the brain that will invariably cause the person's mana and nerve channels to go haywire. I suppose if one's mana channels became screwed up enough, that would be enough to inflict physical damage on one's person, corresponding to the pain signals that were being sent."

"Yes, but…" Arklanser swallowed past the lump in her throat. "In order for someone to sustain a temporal arte of that magnitude- especially on four people- the amount of mana required would be immense, at least 700 or 800 kairns, and that's impossible…unless…"

Silence cut her off as a sense of doom hung over the two bowmen.

"Well." The sniper finally took a breath and brushed a few frayed strands of hair out of his face. "There are some things we're better off not knowing." He darkly cast a look at Arundale and Igzarion, still lying supine upon the ground. "Looks like they still need some help."

"We can't tap into their consciousnesses, Rysdale." she replied darkly. "You'd have to gain access to their mental channels, and if something goes wrong, you're looking at permanent brain damage or even death…"

"I'm well aware of that, Delinia," he replied smoothly, walking over to Igzarion's limp figure. "But I owe a friend a small favor." He closed his eyes and laid his hand on the ranger's forehead, murmuring a brief incantation. A flash of bright light filled the room, causing Arklanser to blink.

"Rysdale? Rysdale!" She waved her hand in front of him, but there was no sign that he had heard; he was like a statue. She swore briefly before turning her attention to Natalia, lying on her side.

_I owe a friend a small favor, too._

Riffling through her mind for the proper incantation, she gently laid her palm on Natalia's forehead, the skin still feeling warm as though she were sleeping.

She spoke the words for the arte under her breath and at the same time, another bright flash of light burst through her mind and she lost consciousness.

-----

The moon shone high over the skies of Elaesia, bathing the small city in its silvery glow. However, Athena Pierce was in no position to admire it, nor had she been for the past couple of weeks since the war had broke out.

She darkly stared out the window from her office, silently watching the makeshift houses and bases of the Elaesians shrouded in darkness. The night was calm, yet almost too calm. It made her all too aware of the fact that any moment, Gault could decide to end this right then and there.

Yet, even after all he'd done, she still believed there was good in him.

The question was to see if he could find it in time.

"Athena?" There was a knock on the door, and she sprang to her senses almost immediately, regaining her composure.

"Yes? Come in." she murmured, and Ascion Blade strode in through the door. His dark-colored cloak trailed behind him as he walked, lending an almost mystic air to the priest. The handle of a Magicodar wand was distinctly visible at his belt as he saluted. If not for the distinctive holy symbol on his wrist, he would have easily passed for a necromancer.

"Ah, Brigadier General." Athena glanced up at him, her pearly eyes seeming to illuminate the room. "Can I help you?"

"To be honest, I don't know." Ascion shrugged informally. "Since the destruction by the Omega Balrogs, this place's morale has been at an all-time low. Most of Psi Regiment's even talking about deserting."

"I see." Athena tried not to let the worry show in her face. "And how have you been doing these days?"

"Nothing new." He exhaled and slid his hands into his pockets. "I went with Iris and a few guys from Psi Regiment to Zakum and stole myself a Magicodar." He twirled the weapon in the air for a second to prove his point. "And I've been practicing a couple of new artes, much to the chagrin of everyone else." A faint smile crossed his face before it died. "I do wish that I could have some time to work on a gravity arte, though. Goddess knows we need it."

"Hm." Athena picked up her quill and scribbled blankly on a sheet of paper before giving up her feeble charade and setting the stationery aside. "Ascion, I know how you must feel, with both of your brothers sent out on service, but-"

"You, too?" Ascion raised an eyebrow. "I've had about five people tell me that today…"

"I see. Then I suppose I won't have to take up your time with a lecture on duty and responsibility." She calmly shuffled a few papers on her desk. "I don't blame you, however. With Aslan on duty, it stands to reason that you are practically the most powerful senior officer in Elaesia at the moment."

"Yep. And fifteen to boot." Ascion raked a hand through his dark hair. "It's a bloody miracle."

"Heh." Athena smiled thinly, eyeing the priest interestedly. "Your parents would have been proud."

The remark touched a nerve in Ascion; he stiffened briefly before regaining his composure. "Athena, forgive me for asking, but why don't we just send all our forces to Meteon E'traia and blow the whole place up? I'm pretty sure we could-"

The bowmistress merely raised a hand to stop him. "I have my reasons for doing so, Brigadier General." she said laconically.

"Would…" Ascion picked his words carefully. "Would those reasons have anything to do with Gault Isentryx?"

Athena began to open her mouth to speak, but Ascion went on. "Some time ago, Rathias Gardner mentioned that he was one of your former students. From what I heard, he was a very good one…and then he went nuts." He rolled his eyes briefly before continuing on. "He mentioned that he thought there might still be some good in him…somehow." He stared directly at his superior. "Would you mind explaining your opinion on the subject?"

Athena merely exhaled and gave a rueful little smile. "I assume you're not going to leave this room until you get a comprehensive answer, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Well…" Athena kneaded her hands upon the desk. "Strictly speaking, this is classified information, but I've been in the habit of sharing classified information quite often these days…" She glanced downwards at her desk before speaking. "Some time ago, Seles and I had a small conversation. He asked whether young Isentryx had had any connection with the demon of eld, Razier."

Ascion raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And your answer?"

"It's a far-fetched theory, and I sincerely hope it isn't true, because it would greatly lessen my strain, but it is not implausible to say that Isentryx and Razier are one." Athena replied, her tone betraying no emotion. "Even if this were to be correct, we have no way of knowing whether Isentryx has managed to control Razier for himself or whether Razier has possessed Isentryx. At this stage, both are equally likely."

"I see." Ascion considered the answer for a moment. "And you think that this isn't sufficient enough reason for us to storm Meteon E'traia?"

Athena turned away from the priest for a moment before answering. "He was one of my best students, Ascion, and I hope you will understand that. There is always a sacred bond between student and teacher that never quite breaks, regardless of circumstances, and if it is possible- just _possible- _that he might be saved-"

She fell silent, and Ascion was wise enough not to question the bowmistress further on the subject. Keen to change the topic, he asked, "What is your opinion on the Judgment?"

Athena raised an eyebrow at the abrupt question. "Why the interest in the Judgment all of a sudden, if I may ask?"

Ascion shrugged disinterestedly. "I happened upon it a couple of days ago while studying." His gaze sharpened. "Do you put any stock in it?"

"If you really must know, Brigadier General…" Athena raked a hand through her long tresses, smoothing out the fibers. "I believe in the Judgment more seriously than anything I've ever witnessed before…because it has happened before, and it will happen again."

"Really." Ascion rumpled the corner of his jacket. "How does it go again- from our ashes, four shall rise, each masters of their own art, touched by darkness…" He trailed off.

"It is the Lightbringer, the one true scion of their power, riding his great dragon to victory, that shall bring peace to the dying world, whose sacrifice marks the dawn of a new age." Athena finished bluntly. "Indeed. It makes for an entertaining children's fairy tale, but I wonder if Lisandea has not attributed any hidden meaning within its lyrics."

"Perhaps…" Ascion's brow furrowed in thought. "If you believe in the Judgment, would you mind sharing your thoughts on who the Lightbringer is?"

Athena chuckled lightly. "I could tell you, Brigadier General, but would that change anything?" She calmly smoothed out the folds of her gown before turning her gaze upwards. "When it happens, we will know for sure."

"But you're sure that the Lightbringer _will _come in time to save us before we're all beaten to a bloody pulp, yes?" Ascion queried sharply.

Athena calmly stared into the priest's eyes- if she was annoyed, she hid it extremely well. "Yes. He will."

"So it is a he!" Ascion snapped his fingers. "Well, if that's the point, why do we have to send Zeraion and Gardner into the middle of nowhere?"

"Zeraion needs his training, Ascion." Athena replied calmly. "However, if you must know…" She lowered her voice slightly. "You, of course, haven't forgotten the destruction he wreaked upon Victoria when Gault took control of him?"

Ascion's insides clenched slightly. "No, of course not."

The bowmistress sighed balefully. "Neither has anyone else. Resentment has still been high, despite our best efforts to curb it, and I decided that ultimately, in the end, it would be better for all concerned if we kept your brother as far away from Elaesia as possible."

"I see." It was some time before Ascion reverted to his placid mood. "What about Ark?"

"Wolfen is an experienced and capable fighter, and I trust Seles has not pulled any strings in his training. Together with Aslan and Ryden, I sincerely doubt anything would be troublesome enough to hamper him."

"I guess." Ascion shrugged, although he looked rather unconvinced. "I should be going now. Thank you for your time."

"It was no trouble, Brigadier General." Athena calmly returned to her task of pretending to fill out paperwork- in reality, she tended to delegate more of _that _to the other three wisemen and Seles.

Silently, Ascion Blade left through the door, his nightshade cloak billowing softly in the breeze.

-----

_Stab. Scream._

"Stop!"

_Stab. Scream._

"Stop it now!"

_Stab. Scream._

"…_Natalia…!"_

He struggled against the arcane bonds that pinned him to the wall, but it was no use. Arundale's screams wouldn't even let him think clearly, let alone dispel the arte.

Unless he could think of something in the next few minutes (which he couldn't), he was done for.

Casper merely regarded the scene with a sadistic grin. "Tell me, Traphes. How does it feel to experience the suffering of someone you care for…and not being able to do anything about it? That, as they say, is the ultimate torture…"

He casually pricked Natalia's wrist with the points of his blade, as the blood continued to gush forth from the ceiling. "Save yourself, my son…if you can."

"You…bloody…_bastard!_" Igzarion screamed, as he continued to roar and rant using the worst language he knew. Of course, nothing happened. The level of the crimson fluid continued to rise; within a minute, it was lapping at the soles of the ranger's boots.

_Damn it…if I could just overpower this illusion…! _He closed his eyes, attempting to try and cast a counterarte, but a sudden scream blitzed through his concentration and obliterated all thoughts of escape.

"Argh!" Igzarion shook his head, his dark locks wildly rippling about his face, and forced himself to think. There was a bitter, sanguine taste in his mouth.

_If Rysdale were here…he'd think of something._

He shook his head and swore once more. Yes, Tales _would _have been able to think of something. He'd always had. Despite his less-than-infrequent wisecracks and deadpan sarcasm, the sniper's wisdom had always served well on more than one occasion- and as he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Tales' voice from a thousand miles away, mocking him for the demon he was.

He would have given anything for that to happen now.

The screams of pain rang out even louder as the blood reached his ankles, about two inches of it now covering the floor. Despite the fact that this was an illusion, Igzarion still did not look forward to drowning in a sea of crimson. He tasted bile and had to jam his eyes shut to keep from being totally sick.

If he could just dispel the damned magic that held him in place! He forced himself to relax, some of the tension inching away, and found that the invisible chains seemed to soften against his wrists. _Maybe…_ His mind began working in overdrive. _The chains seem to react to one's mental state. Perhaps…if I can just stay calm, then they'll break…!_

A sudden scream from Natalia completely shattered any thoughts he'd had about staying calm, and he found himself struggling against the fetters once more, sharp cuts appearing in his arms where the immovable bonds cut into his skin.

It was true torture.

"I need help." he whispered, a single ray of salvation in a sea of drowning crimson.

"Help?" Casper laughed cruelly as he traced a small line down Natalia's shoulder. "Don't you know that heaven helps those who help others?"

The smile grew wider as the level of blood rose ever higher, beginning to creep up his legs. "Of course, _you've _never done anything of the sort, so why bother?"

_"Frigid Grave!"_

A sudden burst of cold air flashed through the room as spires of clear ice exploded through the red sea and headed straight for Casper. The chief bandit's eyes widened before he commanded, "Haste!", nimbly dodging the icy projectiles. Undaunted, Tales withdrew his crossbow and fired it into the mist. "Blizzard!"

The barrage of ice slammed into Casper and threw him into the wall, driving the wind out of him; Tales turned to see Igzarion, immobile against the wall. "Iggy!"

"Rysdale!" Igzarion was more surprised at the sniper's appearance than anything- there were several slash and burn marks crossing his body and there was a nasty cut across his cheek and forehead, his glasses slightly askew. "What- what happened to you?"

"I had to perform a…lobotomy." the sniper replied, cryptically. "It would seem I nearly received one myself, though." he added, catching sight of his scar in the blood's reflection. "Would you mind explaining why you're up against the wall…so to speak?"

"Long story, short explanation!" Igzarion shouted, seeing that Casper was getting to his feet. "Look out!"

Tales had a moment's warning before a voice rang out, "Assaulter!" Swiftly, he raised the handle of the crossbow upwards and used the weapon to shield his face. The dagger impacted fiercely against the crossbow, but the material of the weapon held fast. Swiftly, Tales flicked his wrist and commanded, "Blizzard Sword!" A gust of cold air swept through the room as the weapon materialized in the sniper's hand; with surprising dexterity, Tales carved his wrist through the air and blocked an incoming stab at his neck.

"You!" Casper hissed briefly before turning to face Igzarion. "Well, this is a nice surprise, Traphes." he grinned, stepping back a few paces. "It seems you have received some help after all…"

He suddenly leapt into the air. "But let's see how you fare against this!" he roared, the blade of the dagger soaring downwards. "Rending Arc!"

Tales held the sword to the side as the edge of the dagger made contact, arcane sparks flying from the weapons. Igzarion winced as Tales nearly lost hold of the blade, the point dipping downwards dangerously. Swiftly, Casper launched into a sideways slash, a maneuver that left a rip in the sniper's already torn hauberk.

"Dispel the arte, you idiot!" Tales roared as he dueled with Casper, the blade of the dagger coming too close to him for comfort.

"I can't!" Igzarion shouted back as he struggled to gather his thoughts. "It's…Natalia…!"

"What do you mean, Natalia?!" Tales yelled as he sidestepped a stab from the bandit and swung the sword in a wide arc, nearly missing his adversary's chest.

"But…" Igzarion stared, dumbfounded. "Over there, on the wall…that's…"

"There's nothing there, you moron, or are you going insane?!" Tales shouted back, yet he was standing just mere inches from Arundale as he fought, sparks flying from his icy blade. Igzarion was left speechless; how could Tales not see her, lying there, bleeding, helpless-

"I can see her!" Igzarion roared, furiously trying to counteract the arte as the blood continued to trickle from the ceiling. "She's lying there, against the wall, screaming, and I can't think because it hurts _so damn much!"_

The words clicked in the sniper's mind as he made a spiral carve in midair to guard against a forward stab.

_Blood's flowing from the ceiling…Iggy's father's here…Natalia's being tortured…_

…_of course._

"Iggy!" Tales roared, as Casper rushed forward with another Assaulter stab, nearly cutting him apart. "Don't you see?! This- all of this- it's an illusion! It's just a temporal arte! You know that!"

"A…temporal arte?" Igzarion murmured thickly as the blood climbed up his legs.

"Yes! Don't you see?!" Tales struggled to get Igzarion to understand as he dueled furiously. "We all had a fear when we were young, and now Gault's making us face our worst fears as we speak!"

"What…do you mean?" Igzarion muttered, pain swimming through his head as he struggled. It seemed that as the seconds passed, he grew drowsier…

"_Think!" _Tales roared as he ducked a slash from Casper, ripping a jagged line in the wall. "You're in a room, with the one person you hate and the one person you love the most, and blood's coming from the ceiling! Blood, Iggy! Your worst fear! Ever since your mother died twelve years ago, you were hemophobic!"

The ranger's mind swam furiously through the swamp that his thoughts had become. Blood…yes. It was all beginning to make sense now.

Narrowly dodging a stab from Casper, Tales launched himself off the wall, aimed his blade at the chief bandit, and roared, "Absolute!" A fissure erupted in the floor as a gigantic ball of icy mana coalesced and exploded, sending Casper flying. Tales landed and sheathed his blade, turning to Igzarion. "Look, Iggy. I had acrophobia, and I ended up on top of a mountain. Natalia has belonephobia ever since her brother was stabbed. Delinia had nyctophobia since the incident with the dark crystal. So they must be going through something similar…"

"Childish fears, but effective all the same…" Igzarion mused dimly.

"Do you see now? The reason I can't see Natalia and you can…is because that _isn't _Natalia. It's you. Her image, because you care for her so much, is an avatar of your self-hatred and fears. When she is stabbed, the blood starts flowing…and literally, you're being consumed by your own fear." He shook his head, his bloodstained hair covering his shoulders. "You have to stop thinking of her as your sister. We can save her- we _will _save her, but you've got to free yourself before we drown!"

"Wait." Igzarion shook his head. "If this is an illusion of my fears, then how come you're in it? Because I never was afraid of you…if annoyed, more than anything."

Tales ignored the jab. "It's a long explanation, but to make a long story short, I used a delicate little arte to splice my consciousness into your mind. It was a dangerous option, but there was little choice." He raked a hand through his hair. "I can't free you from those chains without killing you, however. You're going to have to do it yourself by dispelling your own fears and self-doubts."

"But…I…" Igzarion stammered. "I can't. I just…can't. It's too much, when I hear her scream…"

"_Do it!" _Tales shouted, seeing that Casper was beginning to recover from the arte. "I'll distract your father, but you've _got _to try!"

There was a roar of "Assaulter!" as Casper soared forward, about to impale Tales with the dagger; Tales swiftly sidestepped the assault and roared, "Icy Hellpike!" A series of frigid spears exploded from the ground and hurled themselves at the bandit; Casper commanded, "Dark Sight!" in order to evade them, disappearing from sight.

Tales exhaled deeply as his eyes roved around the room, but there was no sign of the dark-haired chief bandit anywhere. Could he have been defeated at last-

"_Assassinate!"_

The slashes came before they could be heard; Casper burst from thin air just inches away from the sniper and slammed the double-bladed knife into his back. Tales' eyes widened as he choked, blood flying from his mouth as Casper drew back his fist and thrust the dagger deep inside his body. Tales' body was thrown off its feet from the impact and smashed into the wall, where he slumped to the ground and lay still.

"Pathetic." Casper looked contentedly at the blood-laced knife in his hand before turning back to his son. "If these are the kinds of friends you have, Traphes, then you might as well give up-"

But Igzarion was no longer there.

"What-" Casper spun around wildly, his eyes scanning every inch of the room, but there was absolutely no sign of Traphes.

Suddenly, a burst of light filled the room as a voice bellowed, "_Transcendent Resolution!"_

A thin lancet of blood-red and shimmering black magic flashed briefly through the air before it made contact with the chief bandit, ripping through the front of his stomach. Before Casper could react, Traphes withdrew the steaming blade and lashed out in a vicious spin kick, catching his father in the side of the head in a skull-shattering crash. Casper was thrown to the ground and lay still, seething upwards with hate.

"Shame." Igzarion twirled the dagger in the flat of his hand before gripping it firmly in his fist with a flick of his wrist. "If you hadn't had to go off and kill my mother…then I wouldn't have had to do this to you-"

A single tear traced down his bloodstained cheek. "I…I really loved you, before that day. I idolized you. I always wanted to be like you."

He turned away, speaking more to himself than his father. "In a sense, I already have. I can't change the past…" His hand went to the cold orb of blue crystal embedded in his chest, the demon still seething within.

"…But I _can_ change the future."

Without time for hesitation, he closed his eyes and plunged the dagger into his father's heart.

An unearthly wail erupted from the chief bandit's mouth as the blade of Igzarion's weapon pierced through his chest and kept going. Black fluid- it was most certainly not blood- spurted forth from the wound as the outline of the dark-haired bandit began to shimmer. White cracks of light began to spiral through Casper's body before it exploded, shards of light searing through the room and blinding the ranger. Everything- Tales, Natalia, the blood- began to meld and spiral together in his mind, in one huge blur.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall into the swirling abyss below him.

-----

It seemed that he had fallen for an eternity until the cold halls of Meteon E'traia swam into view in front of him.

"F-" He swore silently and furiously massaged his temples; he felt as though his head was on fire. The remnants of the previous battle covered his body as various wounds and cuts stuck out like depraved battle medals.

Once the pain receded somewhat, he was able to look around him and see that Gault was nowhere in sight, nor anyone else for that matter. The only people with him were Tales, Arundale, and Arklanser, still lying prostrate on the floor.

"Rysdale!" He shook his head and headed towards the sniper, who at this stage looked like he'd been put through a meat grinder. Blood was streaking the floor as Tales lay upon it. Dreading what he'd find, Igzarion turned his body over and nearly threw up.

A large slash wound luridly decorated the back of the sniper's hauberk as crimson fluid continued to spill out of the gaping incision. Trying not to purge his insides as warm blood gushed over his hands, Igzarion steadily laid his palm on Tales' back and murmured, "Chakra."

He closed his eyes as the healing arte began to take effect, an alchemic glyph appearing underneath them as multicolored orbs of light rose into the air. Slowly, the motes danced about them, growing brighter and brighter by the second, until they merged into a single ray of light and illuminated the sniper's body. Slowly, the light diffused into Tales' back until it faded, leaving the hall somewhat dark. The wound was still there, although it was significantly smaller and the bleeding had stopped. Igzarion could only hope it wasn't already too late.

He took a breath and called, "Rysdale. Rysdale. You still alive?"

There was no answer, and Igzarion turned away bitterly, another tear streaking his cheek as he swore deeply. If only he'd...

"Rysdale, I'm sorry!" he snapped, as hot tears of sorrow and self-hate ran down his cheeks. He was furious at everyone, but mostly at himself.

It was the only time he'd ever allow himself to show weakness.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I've been such a bastard, and…" His throat clenched, and he could say no more as the saline drops ran from his eyes and hit the floor silently.

After all, there was no one left to care.

"Heavens help me, or did I just detect a hint of emotion there?" a familiar voice said, and Igzarion spun around to see Tales lying on his back, wearing his signature calm smile, and unfortunately, very much alive.

"Rysdale!" Igzarion shrieked, leaping backwards and nearly biting his tongue off in shock. "You- you…_aghh. _I should have known…" He continued to swear furiously as Tales watched in amusement.

Ritual suicide sounded really great right about now.

"Well, Traphes, I'm glad to see you're alive and well." Tales continued nonchalantly, as if Igzarion had been the one hit by a fatal strike arte and not him. "I would hate to have to compose an eulogy for you..."

"Shut up." Igzarion retorted flatly, biting his tongue. "Three down, and one to go."

His eyes flickered briefly to Arundale before he got to his feet and made towards her, but Tales seized ahold of his arm and pulled him back.

"What the-"

"Delinia's already on it." Tales winced minutely. "If we attempt to perform another mental splice, it could severely maim or kill her. One is enough."

"But…I…" Igzarion's insides boiled as the faint remnants of screaming ebbed into his mind. "We have to do _something."_

"There's nothing we _can _do, Iggy," Tales murmured, examining his hands, "except wait."

-----

"_Farewell…dear sister." _Llewellyn uttered for the last time, as he lowered the head of the weapon and charged towards her.

Natalia instinctively threw herself out of the way and across the floor, her armor skidding painfully against the hard, ethereal surface of the ground. The blade of the polearm was flying towards her again, and she forced herself to calm down as she twisted herself out of the path of the incoming edge, its point nearly stabbing her.

_He's…good! _That was the first thing that leapt through her mind as she did an awkward somersault to avoid the silver curve that sped towards her, her knees painfully folding as they hit the floor. _It's like fighting a Dragon Knight! _She slid across the floor, narrowly avoiding the metallic edge as it ripped through the ground.

Her mind swam furiously as Llewellyn lashed out at her with the lance again, roaring "Dragon Fury!" So he actually _was _a Dragon Knight now…and a very dangerous one at that.

The lance dove towards her and smashed into the spiked wall, breaking some of the spikes. Unfortunately, they grew back almost as soon as they were severed, doing nothing to help her fears, and they were continually closing in upon her.

_Shit. _Swiftly, she measured the length of the room with her eyes. Granted, the room was very large- roughly about a hundred feet on each side- but the spikes were also closing in at an extremely fast rate. At best, she had about fifteen minutes to end this- if her brother's attacks didn't kill her, the walls certainly would.

A battle cry from her brother brought her to her senses, and she deftly did a pirouette in midair to avoid the sharp blade as it spiraled towards her. Her mind boiled furiously as she tried to think of something to do- but she couldn't bring herself to raise her bow or cast a spell against her dear brother.

After all, years ago, he had already given his life for hers, and no illusion could ever change that.

"Don't!" she shouted, staggering backwards as she raised her arm. "You don't have to do this! We're- we're siblings, and our mother-" She nervously eyed the blade of her brother's weapon as it hovered closely about her. "She wouldn't have wanted us to die like this!

"If you don't want do die, sister…" His smile widened briefly. "Then kill me. Kill me just like you did fifteen years ago."

She did her best to ignore the remark as she staggered to her feet. "Listen to me, Llewellyn. You're not the half-demon that you think you are. You don't know how much I've suffered because of your death, and I'm so sorry…but please, don't do this! Let me end this!"

Perhaps it was just another illusion, but she could have sworn that she saw the tip of the blade dip downwards, before his gaze returned to normal.

"I would if I could, Natalia…" The smile slowly crept back, ever painful for her to watch. "But you know that I very well can't. This is our world now, of half-finished dreams and broken hopes. Only one of us can leave it and venture back into the world of cold reality…"

The razor-sharp grin did not fade. "And I can assure you that it won't be you."

He abruptly twirled the lance in his hand and slammed it deeply into the ground. "Seismic Deluge!"

Natalia had a split second's warning before a sudden storm of rocks and earth hurtled towards her, the floor disintegrating as a wave of earth flak rushed towards her. Instinctively, she raised her hands and uttered, "Bastion!" The rocks crashed furiously against her shield but did not harm her.

"Please!" Natalia begged, her voice sounding rather weak in the face of her brother's arcane artes and the spikes decorating the quickly-closing walls. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"How ironic, sister." he said, deftly spinning the handle of the polearm in his palm. "You already have."

He charged again, this time uttering an incantation as he flicked his wrist to cast an elemental arte. "Terraform!"

The ground ripped itself apart as spears of rock forced themselves upwards, threatening to impale the ranger where she stood. She nimbly dodged the effects of the spell, her sharp eyes quickly detecting the mana currents and dodging the projectiles- but it seemed that with each passing second, she grew weaker and weaker.

She struggled against the soporific effect of the temporal chamber as Llewellyn's arte relentlessly ripped up the ground like paper, the treacherous rift heading towards her.

Death was coming, and it was about to take its daughter in its icy grasp once more.

"_Explosion!" _

A sudden orb of flame-colored energy coalesced in front of her, startling her for a precious second. Before she could protect herself or even fathom where the flame had come from, the magic exploded, sending flame everywhere. Natalia winced and covered her face with her arms, but she soon realized the flame hadn't been intended for her. The flame exploded several yards away from her, obliterating a spike that would have impaled her seconds later.

After what seemed like an eternity, she uncovered her face and was able to gaze upon the face of her savior. Crimson hair flowed around an elegant figure as a white-colored hawkshead bow gleamed in the light of the flame. Her eyes were slits of crimson fury as she stared down her attacker.

"D-Delinia?" Natalia whispered, remnants of the flame fading into the air. "What…are you doing here?"

"It's a long story, with an even longer explanation." Arklanser shook her head, her flame-colored locks trailing about her figure. "It looks like you need some help-" She was interrupted by a fierce battle roar from the orange-haired Dragon Knight, who charged forward, lance in hand.

Arklanser ducked the silvered blade of the polearm, quickly uttering an incantation and summoning her blazing staff. She twirled it like a baton for a second before she charged, the length of the weapon crashing furiously against Llewellyn's silver lance and throwing a shower of sparks into the air.

Quickly, he lowered the handle of his weapon and lunged forward with a stab, a maneuver she dodged only by swinging herself out of the way barely in time. She landed on her feet and lashed out with a backhand blow, which Llewellyn blocked with the haft of his lance. Forgoing her staff for a moment, Arklanser lashed out with an abrupt spin kick, nearly catching her opponent in the chest. He retaliated by curving his arm through the air and bashing her in the side of the chest with the blunt edge of his weapon; blood trickled from her already wounded figure as she arced through the air and fell with a thud.

"Delinia!" Natalia ran over to her companion and examined her closely; she looked very much the worse for the wear, a series of slash and burn marks covering her figure. "You're hurt! What happened to you?"

"I'll live." the rangeress replied flatly, spitting out a droplet of blood. "I should be asking you that. Who in the bloody hell is-"

"He's…" Natalia exhaled, her voice unnaturally loud in the room. "He's my brother."

"Your-" Arklanser looked momentarily confused for a moment. "I thought Iggy was-"

"The other one, Delinia." she replied, her voice breaking slightly, almost as if she were admitting some horrible, dark secret. "He…he was the one who died fifteen years ago. When…when I was still in El Nath, with my mother."

Arklanser's lips formed a small 'O' in surprise before she closed them. "I…I see. Why is he here now?"

"I don't know." she sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. "It…it must be a dream…a nightmare. Something like that…"

"It's a highly effective temporal arte." Arklanser calmly explained. "I discussed it with Rysdale a few minutes ago. It seems to be drawing upon our innermost fears, turning them against us."

The mention of the sniper's name seemed to trigger a switch in Natalia's mood. "You…you mean he's alive?"

"Yes." She squeezed her hand gently. "I promise you, you'll get to see him and Iggy again."

"They…came for us?" she whispered.

"They did." she confirmed, with the faintest of smiles. "We don't have much time, Natalia. These walls will crush us within minutes, and I can't defeat your brother- or whatever he's become- on my own. I need your help, but you have to overcome your own self-doubts and fears to do it. Can you do this for me?"

"But, I…" Natalia struggled for words. "I can't…I can't do that to my own brother. He…" She began to sniffle again, a tear falling from her right eye. "Fifteen years ago, I was about to be killed, and he threw himself in the way of the incoming spear. He sacrificed himself to save me, and I…" She burst into a new wave of sobs as grief and remorse overtook her.

Arklanser was about to reply, but a sudden shift in her mana currents told her that something was amiss, and she instinctively seized ahold of Natalia's arm and yanked her out of the way as a bolt of lightning struck the floor inches away from them. Swiftly, she raised her bow and aimed it at Llewellyn. "Ether Inferno!"

A burst of magenta-colored flame enveloped the limbs of her weapon and fired itself at the demonic Dragon Knight, slamming into him and throwing him across the floor. Quickly, Arklanser turned her attention back to Natalia, sobbing on the ground. "Natalia, I know he's your brother, but this _isn't _your brother!" Her eyes darted dangerously about the room- they had about ten minutes left. "Your brother would never do this to you, not after he gave his life for you! Listen to me. I can't speak for you because I never knew him, but I do know that he wouldn't desert his sister like this- and he wouldn't ever try to kill you. It's all an illusion by Gault. You have to understand that…"

There was a momentary second of silence, followed by Natalia's ear-splitting cry.

"I- _I can't!" _she howled, tears streaking her cheeks and pooling upon the floor, as she lay helpless upon the ground. "I Know it's an illusion, but that doesn't change anything! He was my brother- my brother, Delinia, and I watched him die! And until you've seen someone die for you, you don't know the meaning of true understanding and affection! I…I can't do it!"

Delinia merely grit her teeth and swore under her breath. This was really a great time to be sentimental, trapped in a room with a very dangerous Dragon Knight and nine minutes before the walls crushed them into bits. But beneath all that, Natalia's words were true. She really did care for her brother, and she couldn't bear to raise a finger against him.

It would have to be up to her to rescue her friend from her own fears.

Deciding to forego melee combat for the time being, she closed her eyes and uttered, "Meteor Lancer!" The bolts of white-hot flame launched themselves into the ground and ignited with explosive retorts, but they all missed their mark. Llewellyn leapt out of the way with the agility of a slalom skier before raising his lance and bellowing, "Dark Spear!"

Beams of night-black energy pulsed through the ground before erupting upwards through the ground, creating a veritable minefield for the ranger as she sidestepped the dangerous blasts one after the other. Her ability to gauge the mana currents allowed her to dodge the fierce blasts with precision, but the bursts of dark energy were more capricious than anything as she struggled to keep an eye on them.

Nocking a spectral arrow to her bow, she released the string and shouted, "Inferno Drive!" The resulting blast of flame soared through the air before impacting with a loud explosion, sending him flying; but he quickly alighted on his feet without incurring much damage. He raised the lance and shouted, "Earth Rift!"

The floor below Arklanser suddenly shifted with a loud noise, the ground cracking apart as the earth-based arte took effect. Arklanser swore briefly as she realized she was trapped; the spiked walls were hemming in on her and the state of the ground beneath them was not reassuring. It was as if at any moment, the whole place could cave in.

And she knew _that _couldn't be good.

Out of desperation, she aimed her bow at the ground and commanded, "Inferno Drive!" The floor exploded beneath her as she felt herself being hurled into the air a burnt mess- but at least her makeshift attack had allowed her enough propulsion to dodge the arte. She landed on one of the small pieces of floor that was still intact and aimed at Llewellyn. "Ether Inferno!"

The familiar feeling of warmth washed over her as she released the magic, waves of dark magenta flame rushing from her fists as the power of the crystal inside her suffused her. A wave of the spiritual flame rushed out to engulf her enemy, its maws bearing upon him like the jaws of some great monster. Undaunted, he held out his arm and swung his polearm in a simple circular motion, the flame dissipating as it hit his guard.

"What?!" She was visibly taken aback as her attack fizzled out- how could he have blocked such a powerful arte with a simple guard?

"_Fool." _Llewellyn's voice had dropped to a whisper. "_You cannot hope to defeat one with the blood of the great demon, Razier." _He raised his weapon and plunged it into the ground. "Seismic Deluge!"

The floor broke apart once more as a spray of rocks exploded toward the crimson-haired rangeress, threatening to tear her apart. Her eyes widened and she threw herself across the floor to avoid the brunt of the arte- only to hear Llewellyn give a cry of "Dragon Roar!"

The familiar lavender-colored glyph appeared in the air for a moment before the effect of the attack took hold. An immense shockwave pulsed through the small room, and it was upon her before she could blink. Even if she could have blocked it, it likely would have had no effect. She was completely thrown off her feet by the force of the arte and flew backwards, crashing into the spiked wall. Her eyes widened briefly as the spikes ran through her figure, jutting out grotesquely from her chest, before she closed her eyes and dropped limply to the ground.

"Hmph." The Dragon Knight casually twirled his polearm through the air before returning it to his back. "Is that another one on your list, Natalia- the people you've doomed to eternal suffering?"

"You…" She staggered to her knees and mustered the strength to face her brother. "How could you? You tell me that I'm a heartless murderer, and yet…you're no better than I am."

"Is that of any consequence?" He calmly regarded her with his ice-cold gaze. "We're siblings, Natalia. Of course we're no different from each other. If you have the heart to throw your friends in the path of danger, then I can certainly be as bloodthirsty as you are."

"My brother…" Natalia exhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. "…He would _never _be as heartless as you are. He would have loved me, no matter what. You're trying to kill me."

"Please." He brushed aside the remark. "I am merely trying to show you the error of your ways."

"That's not _true!" _she snapped, anger beginning to show in her voice for the first time. "My _real _brother would never do this to me, not after he gave his life for me. I…I don't know who or what you are, but it's clear you're not the person I once knew." She slowly pulled herself up to her full height, her fear diminished. "Even Traphes Igzarion would never have done anything like this."

"_Traphes Igzarion!" _Llewellyn snapped, losing his temper as though his sister had uttered a disgusting swearword. "That demon boy! I…I can't believe you would forsake _him _for me, your own brother! He never did anything for you!" he spat, his eyes bloodshot. "You betrayed me!"

Natalia's voice was calm. "I never betrayed you, dearest brother. I loved you, until the very end. But…to be honest, Traphes Igzarion cared about me. He never cared who my parents were, or what I did. All he ever wanted was a friend, someone who could care for him in return, and I appreciated that." Her eyes flared up for a moment. "Why couldn't you do that?"

"He was a demon child!" her brother snapped, his face beginning to turn red with anger. "I would never have let you be with him!"

"…You were a demon child, too, Llewellyn." Natalia finally answered, her voice clear and cold in the confines of the rapidly-shrinking room.

He froze, the first time he had done so so far. It was as though someone had flipped an electric switch as he regarded his sister with a mixture of shock and disbelief, as though someone had smashed him with a sledgehammer.

"So…" His voice quavered slightly. "Even you, sister, reject me…"

"No…" she whispered, just as softly. "Believe me, Llewellyn, I…I care about you, but…" She closed her eyes and opened them, her pupils cutting through the room. "You're _not _my brother."

"All my life, I tried to protect you, Natalia." he snarled, a feral expression crossing his face. "You were the only person I had in my life, and I did everything just so you might live- even to the point where I gave my own life for yours."

She shuddered. She knew _that _all too well.

"But…now that I can't save you, I'll take you with me to the fires of hell!" he roared, the bloody polearm out and ready once more. _"Stalagmite!"_

The arte came swifter than a breath of wind, the floor shifting as spires of rock exploded forth, but Natalia was prepared. Her demonic sight and agility allowed her to sidestep the arte as easily as one would jump a mud puddle. With her resolve hardened, and her friend bleeding to death on the floor next to her, the daughter of Razier had no trouble declaring her next attack.

"_Lightning Saber!"_

A brilliant sword of cobalt-blue lightning materialized in the sky and flung itself at Llewellyn, its supercharged tip hurtling at him with the speed of a missile. Quickly, he cried, "Bastion!", but the power of his sister's spell was too strong. It crashed through his shield with a loud explosion and seared a grotesque mark across his face.

"Impressive." he admitted, grudgingly, before raising his lance once more. "Then bear with this! Divine Dragon Rush!"

He lunged forward, his polearm shining with a dark blue light, and lashed out in a savage stab that nearly hit her. She swung herself to the side to avoid the attack, but he abruptly spun the blade upwards and cut the side of her shoulder. She staggered backwards in pain as he pivoted the lance behind his back and lashed out once more. "Dragon Buster!"

"Bastion!" she commanded, throwing her wrist upwards as a sheen of magic threw itself in front of her. The strike arte exploded fiercely against her shield, and although it held, she could still feel the recoil of the impact as it ran through her body like an electric shock.

There were five minutes left.

She glanced briefly about her and saw that there was no room to use her bow; she would be cut down in a matter of seconds. That only left her one option- an artificial arte that would involve a powerful bit of magic to invoke, one she had read in the back section of a textbook some years ago. The dusty pages had warned their reader bluntly- _do not attempt this technique if your magical capabilities do not exceed five and one hundred kairn, for the life force required would be enough to slaughter any mortal being._

Six hundred kairns of pure force, shooting through her body, would be almost too much to fathom. But Tales, Iggy, and Arklanser all had learned artificial artes, hadn't they? Blizzard Sword, Sanguine Stiletto, and Oblivion Staff…

But this was different. This was a divine arte- worlds beyond that of the normal elemental or arcane arte. This could easily mean death if even a single conduit went off-kilter in her mind.

Then again, as she looked at her brother, polearm in hand, the sharp spikes adorning the walls, and Delinia lying senseless on her side mere feet away, she didn't have much choice.

"Llewellyn…" she whispered into the quiet of the room, the only sound being the grating noise of the spiked walls as they inched closer together by the second.

"…I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes, a single tear running from her left eyelid, and began to speak.

"_Spirits of the celestial heavens, command the gates of hell to open thy passage, and bestow upon me the might of the gods! I summon thee from the abyss, that divine spear! Behold! Gungnir!"_

Natalia's clarion voice pierced through the walls of the room as an array of arcane glyphs appeared at her feet, volatile bursts of lightning flashing at her feet. She remained deathly silent and still as she kept her eyes closed, the power of the ritual suffusing her. If something went wrong now, she just might die.

The lightning stopped exploding unpredictably at her feet long enough for her to gather mana particles into her hands, but from the deep abyss of her thoughts, she could hear a voice roaring, "Divine Dragon Rush!" She shut her eyes tighter and braced for impact. If only-

There was a thunderous ringing echo that suddenly filled the room, as though some giant had just hit a gong with a hammer. Natalia Arundale opened her eyes just wide enough to see a great metallic spear, longer than she was tall, resting comfortably in her hands. Its handle seemed to be made of smooth black crystal, with runes carved into it; the head had a winged hilt and a steel-like blade a foot long. Yet, as she locked weapons with her brother, she could tell it wasn't flimsy metal, but rather some sort of otherworldly substance that shined with divine lightning.

Now it was time to put it to the test, as her demonic blood boiled in her veins.

"Thunder Lance!" she roared, wrenching aside her brother's weapon with a burst of strength and thrusting the winged blade upwards. She caught him in the chest as lightning erupted from the tip, blasting a series of wounds through his body.

She twirled the blade of the spear to the side and lashed out again, this time with a cry of "Impaling Heaven!" Light blazed through every fiber of the divine weapon as a bolt of holy force erupted from the ground, catching Llewellyn in its wake. Natalia's eyes narrowed as she felt herself giving way to her demonic nature. She had to kill. To kill, now…

"Radiant End!" she commanded, following into the third part of the legendary trinity that all spearmen idolized. She made several great arcs with the holy lance, the noise of armor and bone crushing as the lightning-enchanted spear rent through her brother like scissors through paper. He screamed as his visage began to fade, searing with black light.

Natalia Arundale, the daughter of Razier, dropped the legendary lance of Gungnir and breathed once before charging for the last time.

"**_Beautiful Oblivion!"_**

She flung herself forward, ribbons of flame, light, and thunder wrapping around her and her lance until the energy conglomerated into one gigantic projectile, the extreme energy searing the walls of the room. Once the spear made contact with Llewellyn's mutilated body, it seemed to elongate as Natalia forced it through a series of intricate curves and slashes, each movement creating another gigantic rift in the demonic shadow that had once been her brother. Finally, when the opportunity presented itself, she raised the spear upwards and thrust it into the shadow figure's heart.

There was an unnatural, inhuman shriek that erupted throughout the room as innumerable bolts of lightning poured down from the ceiling and struck the shroud one after the other, a relentless tide of heavenly energy exploding through the room and disintegrating the figure of her brother, as Llewellyn Arundale disappeared into the abyssal realm of death for the last time.

She never got the chance to tell him how much she loved him before the ruins of the room spiraled inwards and swallowed her up, disappearing in a flash of light.

-----

…_that…Natalia…_

…_Gungnir…summoned…_

Natalia Arundale awoke upon the ice-cold, hard floor of Meteon E'traia's great hall, voices fluttering in her head as she lay there, painfully exhausted from the ordeal she'd just endured. As she looked upwards, two faces peered down at her; a pair of turquoise pupils hidden behind thick spectacles, and a set of slightly smaller blood-shaded irises staring down at her with worry.

"…Rysdale?" Natalia breathed, in disbelief. "…Iggy?"

"Natalia!" It was Traphes Igzarion's voice, and for once in her life, it was the first time she had heard him show emotion. "I…I'm so glad…you…"

And to her utter amazement, he knelt down and threw his arms around her, rivulets of sweat and blood running down their battered bodies as his tall figure sheltered her from the icy reality of the outside world. "I…was so worried…that…"

"Oh, stop drooling all over her, Iggy." Rysdale Tales' voice broke the emotional moment. "You can have plenty of time to do that later. Are you all right?" he added, turning to her with a slightly worried expression.

"Yes, I'm fine…" she murmured, wiping sweat and blood from her forehead with her left hand. She tried to lift her right hand, but couldn't- it was as though it was trapped under a weight of some sort.

She looked to her side and saw the bloodied outline of Gungnir still clutched in the limp fingers of her right hand.

Using the handle of the great lance as leverage, she pulled herself up from the ground and managed to face the other two. "What- what happened to Delinia?"

"Ah, you mean her?" Tales said, raising his icy blade and pointing it at a mangled figure on the ground. "It's just a couple of flesh-"

He did not finish his sentence, as Natalia immediately rushed over to the fallen rangeress, bending over her and putting a hand to her forehead. "Delinia! _Delinia! _Are you all right?! Say something, _please!"_

"Get the _hell _off of me, Natalia." Delinia Arklanser growled before sitting up. "This looks awkward."

"Oh, thank goodness!" She ran her hand along the deep stab wounds that the spiked wall had made in Arklanser's body. "I thought-"

"Well, it looks like the crystal inside her seems to have acted as a clotting agent and sealed up the wound." Tales said, with the air of a doctor. "That likely prevented any major blood loss."

"It still hurts like bloody hell, though." the rangeress muttered, picking herself up from the ground and dusting herself off. "We should get back to Elaesia as soon as possible."

"Sorry for being such a burden on you two." Natalia admitted sheepishly.

"No, it was no trouble. We thoroughly enjoyed flying halfway across Victoria and going through a highly traumatic temporal arte to rescue you girls." the sniper replied, caustic as ever.

Moments later, the Devil Children were safely on the backs of three silver-feathered hawks and one golden-winged eagle, flying towards the territory of Elaesia.

"Say." Igzarion wondered out loud in midair. "Why do you suppose Gault didn't finish us all off when he had the chance?"

The silence between the four immediately became as dark as the dying sunset behind them.

-----

"_Lord Isentryx."_

"Yes, Balthazar?" Gault Isentryx calmly replied, glancing at the towering figure of the Omega Balrog in front of him.

Balthazar cleared his throat, dislodging what appeared to be the remains of a deer onto Meteon E'traia's floor. "_Regarding the four bowmen that were in Meteon E'traia some time ago, sir…"_

"Yes? What about them?" Gault muttered impatiently.

The Balrog coughed delicately (that is, as delicately as Balrogs manage). "_They've disappeared, my lord."_

"I…see." The dark bowmaster considered the information briefly before he put it aside. "So be it. I stood to gain nothing by letting them remain here."

"_With all due respect, I believe it was foolhardy to let them escape." _The Balrog resolutely examined his claws.

"Then it's a good thing no one's asking your opinion, Balthazar." Gault replied, with a bit of sharpness in his tone. The Balrog merely shrugged as Gault went on. "Be that as it may, the Devil Children are no longer my primary concern. The charade of Elaesia has gone on long enough, and my patience has finally run its end."

He turned towards the icy walls of his fortress, his blood-red eyes glittering evilly. "Once the Elaesians are destroyed, nothing shall stand in the way of my ultimate goal."

Balthazar shifted uncomfortably on the floor. It was some time before Gault spoke again. "Since the destruction wreaked by Zeraion Phoenix upon the island of Victoria, everything is going according to plan. My first priority will be to weaken the Elaesians where they are strong."

"_And your orders for that would entail…?" _the Balrog asked, with bated breath.

Gault considered the icy walls for a minute before he responded. "The Elaesians have begun to rebuild the cities of Perion, Ellinia, and Kerning City since their destruction, modifying them to serve as temporary military bases. It is a good plan, but nevertheless weak." He cracked his knuckles, his Shinebow emanating a silver light throughout the room. "Next morning, I would like you to send an assault team of, say, five hundred strong to Perion. It is time to begin the first conflict in this war."

"_Agreed." _Balthazar nodded briefly before leaving the chamber. Gault watched the demon leave before turning to Grace, at his side. "What do you think, Raizen?"

Grace demurely replied, "Your will be done, my lord."

Gault chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "I would like you to accompany Balthazar to Perion when the time comes. Do what you must."

"Nothing else, my liege?" Grace asked as she got up.

"No." Gault replied, stroking his Shinebow. "The Judgment will play itself out soon enough, and when that happens, my work shall be done."

"I see." Grace disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Gault Isentryx alone in the halls of Meteon E'traia.

Gault strung his Shinebow and plucked it, the resulting note ringing across the hall.

_My dearest daughter, how I've missed you…_

He smiled to himself, the twisted grin seeming to fill the whole room with its darkness.

_Soon, you shall be in my grasp once more._

-----

Morning came swiftly, and with it the gentle rays of the Victorian sun. The beautiful glow of the celestial star shone over the forest of Sleepywood, awakening the elven city of Galiaen. Butterflies and flower glistened in the light as the city came alive, the housewives taking their loved ones and wares to market while soldiers and children alike practiced their swordplay, archery, and magic.

A ray of light filtered through the gigantic canopy of the forest, shining through Ark Wolfen's window and awakening the crusader. He grunted and stretched his arms out, cracking the joints, until he reluctantly rolled out of bed, hitting the ground with a thump.

Once he was sufficiently awake to do things under his own power, he yanked himself up and staggered to the washroom- in other words, a small alcove in his room with two pipe faucets that seemed to be made of hollowed-out tree roots. After accidentally spraying himself in the face with a jet of icy water, he managed to shower himself. He never did get quite good at manipulating the water flow, but at least he didn't smell like monster innards anymore.

He quickly toweled himself off and changed into a shirt and shorts, after which he immediately belted on his heavy cuirass and slid his axe into the sturdy sheath on his back. Comfortably burdened and awake, he pushed open the door of his room and walked outside. A silver-haired elf maiden was waiting outside for him when he exited.

"Ah, you're awake." She bowed. "Breakfast has just been served in the main hall. I will lead you there if you wish."

"Thank you." Ark returned the motion. As they walked, he asked, "Where are my companions- Aslan and Ryden?"

"If you are referring to the two swordsmen that came across us looking for you yesterday, they arrived in the main hall ten minutes ago." she replied.

Ark bit his tongue and tried not to make a retort as she led him to a set of ornately-carved wooden doors, images of vines and flowers carved upon its face. She held the doors open as he entered. In the midst of the hall, three gigantic tables had been set, and a great number of elves were already eating. Ark could see Lisande, Ryden, and Marron seated near the head of the middle table.

Ark suddenly realized that the eyes of everyone in the room were turned on him; hastily, he shuffled to the table and took a seat next to the Paladin.

"Hey, Ark." Ryden raised a hand in greeting. "You get a good sleep last night?"

Ark noticed a few disdainful looks around the table and realized shower water was still dripping from his hair onto the tablecloth. Sheepishly, he snatched at a napkin and wrung his hair out. Marron turned his face to his plate as Lisande shook her head.

"It could have been better." he muttered as a retainer set a plate of what looked like bread, some oatmeal-like substance, and various flowers and vegetables he didn't know the names of in front of him. He chanced a bite at the oatmeal and found that it was nearly tasteless, but gave him strength. "You two?"

"I slept like a log." Ryden shrugged and took a swig of something orange. "That is, a burning log- it was sweltering in the room." He cast a glance at Lisande. "Would it have killed you to put a window in the guest room?"

"We could, but tarantulas and forest scorpions tend to creep inside in the middle of the night." Lisande replied matter-of-factly, buttering a slice of bread.

Ryden grimaced and continued to eat as Marron broke the silence. "As things stand, I talked it over with Lisande last night. She agreed to grant us a force of roughly 1,000 troops, and I think that should hold us over for any major conflicts."

Lisande shrugged. "Whatever you told them last night, it must have been good. Galion and Riane didn't protest in the least when I asked them for several regiments of our forces."

"Do you think anything's happened in Elaesia while we were gone?" Ark asked, chewing a large, pink flower petal in his mouth.

"Couldn't have." Ryden refilled his glass from a crystalline pitcher in the center of the table. "We've only been gone, say…sixteen to twenty hours at the most. It hasn't even been a day yet."

"True, but in war, you can't expect anything." Marron picked the last crumb off his plate and took a long draft from his goblet. "When are we expected to leave?" he asked Lisande.

Lisande's eyes darted to a complicated-looking mechanism mounted on the wall that could only be described as a highly advanced clock. "As soon as possible." she said, cleaning her plate and pushing it to the side. "Let's go."

The three swordsmen pushed aside their chairs and left the hall wordlessly. Behind them, there was a loud shout of "Hey, I haven't finished eating yet!"

-----

When they arrived outside, they had a large party waiting for them.

A thousand elven troops, garbed in armor and carrying swords and bows slung across their backs, were lined up at the gate of Galiaen. They all saluted as Lisande filed past them.

"At ease." she commanded, and they fell back. Ark, Marron, and Ryden noted the weather conditions; it was slightly breezy, but the weather was fairly warm and sunlight was oozing through the forest canopy. There was little chance of them getting lost.

There was a noise behind them and all four warriors turned around to see the crown monarchs of Galiaen venturing towards them. Galion turned to eye his adopted heir with a foreboding glare before he merely said, "Don't do anything foolish, Lisande."

"Yes, Eisandil." she replied, saluting briefly.

"Come back safely." Riane added, before both ventured back into the forest city. Ryden raised an eyebrow as they left. "You'd think they'd show a little more affection."

"I've been on these sorts of missions before, so it's really nothing spectacular." Lisande replied in a calm monotone. "Besides, I think the fact that I am not their biological daughter skews aside any form of affection whatsoever."

Ryden remained silent as Lisande ventured to the fore of the large contingent of elves. "Attention!" she commanded, and all heads turned to look at her. "As you know, we have been sent to travel to the territory of Elaesia-Henesys to assist the humans, by order of our monarchs Galion Isalden and Riane Pieralasca." There were nods and murmurs of assent as she said these words.

"Now, if I recall correctly, we haven't ventured out of our haunts in the past century since the last Demonos," Lisande continued, "so I'd like you to all make a good impression. Is that clear?"

There were more nods, but these were accompanied by a faint undercurrent of resentment, probably because of the elves' dislike for the human race. Ryden and Ark rolled their eyes, but said nothing.

Ark, Ryden, and Marron quickly marched to the fore of the troops, where they met with Lisande and another tall, silver-haired elf, his hair tied back in a ponytail similar to Gardner's. Lisande introduced him as Reine Isengarde, a captain in the elvish forces.

"Well met." The swordsmen nodded briefly to the elf.

"To you as well." Reine replied, before he continued his conversation with Lisande. "Do you think it wise to send troops out of Sleepywood, milady?" he asked, in a low tone.

Lisande's eyes did not betray anything. "Reine, if what Seles says is correct, I believe the Demonos has come around again to collect its victims. We must fight, lest we be destroyed by Razier."

Reine acquiesced with a quick nod and did not bother to continue the conversation further.

After what seemed like hours of walking (but was, in reality, only ten minutes), Ark muttered aloud to no one in particular, "How much farther is it?"

"It is approximately twenty-five miles from Galiaen to the direct outskirts of Sleepywood." Reine replied without missing a beat. "We haven't even covered a full mile quite yet."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little walking, Ark." Ryden teased.

"No, I'm not." Ark shot back. "But at this rate, we'll get there in about…six hours, and it takes another hour to walk from Sleepywood forest to Elaesia." He raked a hand across his forehead. "We might not get there in time."

"What do you think we left at six in the morning for?" Marron retorted. "We'll get there in time for lunch."

"Of course we will, Dariel." Ark mused darkly. "I just don't want to _become _lunch for a Taurospear on the way, if you get my point…"

Lisande raised an eyebrow worriedly, but Ryden quickly cut in, "Taurospears aren't very active during the day."

"Perhaps…" Reine's fingers tightened about the handle of his longbow. "An ambush may be expected."

"In war, you can't expect anything." Ark automatically murmured, quoting the Paladin. Absentmindedly, his hand slipped to the handle of his axe.

"It matters not." Lisande shook her head, her raven-black hair flowing about her. "There isn't much we can do to mask the noise of over a thousand people in the forest. If anything happens, it will simply have to happen."

"Hmph." The others merely increased their grips on their weapons.

They continued walking onwards, the sound of boots crunching against the forest floor permeating the air. Once in a rare while, a squirrel or deer would rustle a nearby bush, and several people would jump before getting a grip on themselves (and their weapons).

Suddenly, the smell of ash hung in the air, and Lisande stopped, as did the large group of soldiers behind her. Marron wrinkled his nose. "What the hell is-"

"It's the wreckage of the battle from yesterday." Ark whispered, his eyes glancing around the clearing. Sure enough, the trees were charred white and the corpses of several Tauros lay on the ground, now starting to decompose in earnest.

"You were here, then?" Ryden asked, keeping a firm grip on the handle of his katana.

"Yeah. And then I fainted after casting one too many artes…" Ark rolled his eyes. "It's a long story. We should be walking now."

"Look who's talking." Ryden muttered, running a hand across his hair. "There's not much else to see here. Let's go."

"Right." Marron kicked the inert body of one of the Tauros before following after his companions.

The bones crunched noisily as the warriors walked over them, creating a series of pops that rippled through the air.

"Agh!" Ark twitched as a Taurospear bone splintered underneath his feet. "If one more of these things break out loud, I'm going to-"

He did not finish his sentence, as the Paladin's heel brought itself down upon a large, rotting leg bone jutting out of the ground.

Then, a sudden explosion tore through the forest clearing, ripping through the midst of the convoy of warriors and sending bodies flying every which way. Ark barely had time to react before something slammed into his back with the force of a sonic boom, throwing him into a tree. He crashed into the trunk with a sickening thud, feeling something crack inside of him, and slid towards the ground. Flames were burning everywhere as the bodies of countless elves lay strewn across the ground. Pandemonium reigned as panicked shouts rose into the air.

"Damn!" Ark swore out loud, grinding his knuckles. "We've been ambushed! Lisande?! Ryden?! Marron?! Anyone?!"

He continued to shout names until his throat was hoarse, but there was no reply. Ark touched a hand to his cuirass and found it scorched with blackened blood. He felt his chest shift painfully with each step- he must have broken a rib. Looking around frantically for someone- anyone, he tried shouting again, but this had as much effect as it had the first time.

There was a sudden shout of "Blizzard Charge!" and Ark felt relief wash over him, both physically and mentally, as a cool mist swept through the area, extinguishing the flames and cooling his wounds. Ark pushed aside the blackened shell of a tree to see Dariel Marron, his sword drawn.

"Dariel!" Ark shouted, getting the Paladin's attention. "What…the…_hell_…just happened?"

"Damned if I know, Wolfen." Marron replied hoarsely, the smoke stinging his throat. "Someone…or something must have cast one hell of a powerful arte at us."

"Where are Ryden and Lisande?" Ark muttered, his hand seizing the handle of his axe and unsheathing it. He held the large weapon aloft as his eyes darted from one blackened stump to the next, expecting to see enemies at any second.

"I don't know, but the attackers must still be in this area." Marron coughed. "We still have most of our troops- the arte didn't hit us in the crotch, so to speak. We've got to organize them." He coughed some more before shouting, "Attention!"

It was not Lisande's voice, but the elves knew when to listen if they had to. The shouts of panic ceased as they turned to the Paladin; Marron stated his instructions briefly and sharply. "All right. As you pretty much know by now, we've been ambushed by enemies. Fan out and look for Ryden and Lady Lisande. If any unrecognizable identities get in the way, kill them."

The elves dispersed through the burning forest as Marron turned to face Ark. "Come on. We've got to find them. If we get back one man short, Athena will kill us." He turned and raised his blade, slashing a path through the foliage. Ark quickly followed behind, his axe drawn.

There was a sudden shout of _"Here they are!" _and Ark suddenly became aware of something flying towards him. He looked up just in time to see a Taurospear, its blue crystal lance raised as it prepared to cut him down. Before it reached him, however, Marron immediately drew his Heaven's Gate and thrust forward in a spiral slash; the body of the Tauros slumped to the ground as the Paladin withdrew his steaming blade from the corpse.

Another Taurospear burst from behind a tree and lunged at Ark; the axe crusader retaliated by roaring, "Combo Attack!" Blue orbs of light began to circle around him as he lashed out to guard against the beast's stab; with a massive effort, he wrenched aside its crystalline spear and lashed out in a half-moon slash, lopping off its head. The decapitated demon crumpled to the ground as Ark faced another pair of demons with a roar of "Sovereign Gale!" The strike arte did its work neatly, crushing through the beasts' armor and rending them into bloody ribbons. Brushing sweat from his forehead, Ark followed Marron through the underbrush.

Behind them, an elven archer let loose a pair of arrows, shouting "Double Shot!" The attack pierced a Taurospear hidden in wait behind another tree; it gave a roar and staggered blindly around in pain before Marron ended its life with a well-placed backhand slash. Two Tauromacis charged at the Paladin, their weapons raised; Marron turned on his heel and curved the Heaven's Gate through the air, bellowing, "Rending Spear Drive!" He dealt two fatal slashes to the beasts as they converged upon him, their mutilated bodies hitting the ground with limp thuds.

A Tauromacis leapt down from a nearby tree and landed behind Ark, its curved crescent spear raised and ready to tear him apart. With no time to retaliate, Ark raised his axe and shouted, "Power Guard!" The defensive spell bought him some time as he turned on his heel and landed a spin kick into the monster's chest; it staggered backwards, giving him the opportunity to jam his axe into its abdomen. It let out a bloody howl of pain as he killed it; he quickly vaulted over its corpse and swung his body around in an arc, using the spike of the axe as leverage and smashing a round of Taurospears in the chest. With limited space to attack, Ark flicked his wrist and commanded, "Angel Pyre!"

The arcane arte worked excellently, a holy glyph appearing upon the forest floor before uprising bolts of light skewered through the demons with no trouble. Gathering his bearings for a moment, Ark picked up his axe and charged after Marron with a savage battle cry, tearing through anything unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

The two warriors slashed through a large clump of bushes only to find a large group of Tauromacis and Taurospears convening in a large clearing. Gritting his teeth, Ark charged from behind as Marron led a direct assault in the front. The Paladin's sword slaked through the demons with inhuman speed, the blade twisting and turning itself through the air so intricately that it almost looked alive. Meanwhile, what Marron's great blade couldn't rend into half or pierce through the heart, the edge of Ark's indomitable axe neatly dispatched. A Taurospear lunged at Marron with a spear stab that barely missed him by an inch and blew a tree to splinters instead. Undaunted, Marron lashed out with the heel of his greave in an aerial kick, catching the demon in the side of the chest. It staggered backwards in pain, after which Ark cleaved its back in half with a downwards slash.

_Damn. _Marron ground his teeth so hard and so often that he was beginning to get a toothache. A Taurospear charged at him, nicking him in the shoulder. He let out a roar of "Lightning Charge!" and stabbed it with a swift forward thrust, lightning exploding from the point of impact as his victim's body slewed backwards. "There's no end in sight!" he called out to Ark.

The raven-haired axeman looked up from his own work, which was stabbing a Tauromacis several times with the spiked tip of his weapon until it stopped moving, to answer. "Tell me something I don't know." he growled, slinging the bloodstained axe over his shoulder.

"We need to find Ryden and Lisande. Now." The Paladin held his sword aloft and charged into a thicket of thorn bushes off to the left.

"What makes you so sure they're in there?!" Ark called from behind.

"I don't know!" Marron roared as an errant thorn left a scratch in his cheek. "But we have to look somewhere!"

_Dammit. _The crusader fingered the pendant about his neck for a split second before cleaving the thorny branches of the forest bushes aside and following after the blonde-haired swordsman.

-----

The explosion came before he could see it, and Ryden found himself being thrown into the air and colliding head-on with something hard. Glancing upwards from the ground, he saw it was a Taurospear, glaring down at him.

_Shit! _He threw himself out of the way as it plunged its lance into the ground, causing a bolt of lightning to erupt from the forest floor just a couple feet away from him. He flipped himself onto his feet and drew his katana, its edge shining in the firelight. "Dragon Fan!"

The blade moved faster than the eye could blink, and the Taurospear was suddenly on its side in a growing puddle of blood. Pain obscuring his vision, Ryden raked a few clumps of burnt hair out of his face and looked around wildly for any signs of life. "Ark?! Dariel?!"

There was a small movement behind him and Ryden whirled around to see Lisande Isalden lying on the ground, her lavender-colored gown torn in several places. "L-Lady Lisande!" he coughed through the smoke. "Are you all right?!"

Lisande pulled herself up against a tree, breathing shallowly. "Don't…worry about me." she panted, motioning for him to step away. "I'll…I'll be fine…"

Ryden came closer to her anyway and nearly threw up; there was a grotesque burn mark running from the side of her abdomen to her left shoulder, making her look like something fresh off the butcher's block. She was obviously in a huge amount of pain as he neared her.

"Oh, no…" Ryden bit his tongue and swore as he examined her, the scent of burnt flesh lingering in the air. The only good thing he could see was that the extreme heat had cauterized her wound; that could buy her a bit of time, if need be.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it." Ryden cracked his knuckles. "I don't know any healing artes, and I don't have any items on me. Do you-"

She shook her head no, and he swore briefly. "We have to get you help. Maybe Ark…or Dariel…" He pulled her to her feet, ignoring her wincing in pain, and held his sword aloft, ready to carve through any enemy that stood in their way.

A Tauromacis burst through the bushes and charged at them; with one hand holding Lisande's arm, Ryden thrust his right arm upwards and countered the blow as it hurtled towards him. His knees crumpled under the force of the blow as he staggered backwards, the Tauromacis raising its arm to strike again-

"Fusaichi Stab!" Lisande's own wakizashi was out of its sheath and was now buried in the chest of the Tauromacis; it gave a muffled growl and dropped limply to the ground. Ryden winced as he watched Lisande stagger to the ground in pain; he grit his teeth and forced himself to pull her to her feet again.

"Come on." he muttered, seizing her wrist. "I can't let you go on like this. You- you need medical attention now."

"Go on." she murmured. "I'll only be a burden…"

Ryden shook his head. "I'll be damned if I let you stay in the middle of this Tauros-infested forest by yourself. Stay close." He clenched his fist around his katana and commanded, "Dracon!"

The familiar rush of energy greeted him as he called upon the spirit sealed in his sword; when the light cleared, he was significantly taller, his hair a shade of silver, and his blade transformed into a several-foot steel behemoth.

A group of Tauros burst from a nearby grove of trees and charged at the pair, expecting to overtake them by numbers. They were mistaken, though; Ryden hefted his sword over his shoulder before flinging it in a wide arc away from him. "Round Trip!"

The great blade, propelled by the forces of magic as it defied gravity, tore through the incoming cadre of demons like scissors through paper. Ryden deftly caught the blade as it whizzed back before lashing out and stabbing another foe through the heart. As another Taurospear rushed at him from behind, he lashed out and double-kicked it in midair, sending it crashing into a tree.

Lisande winced as a fresh wave of pain overtook her, and Ryden was forced to slow himself down. More to reassure himself than her, he said, "Ark and Dariel should be coming soon." He quickly held his sword in front of him and raised it, bellowing, "Distortion Drive!"

An orb of white lightning gathered at the tip of his blade before shooting forward and leveling a gigantic grove of trees, scattering pieces of Taurospear corpses into the bushes. Ryden shouldered the blade and called out, "Ark?! Dariel?!" He thought he could hear a faint reply in the distance, but it was much too far away to know anything for sure.

Tugging his quarry by the hand, Ryden pushed his way past another burnt grove of trees only to come face-to-face with another Taurospear. Before it could react, he drew his arm back and commanded, "Million Stab!" There were a series of loud cracks as he lashed out with a series of innumerable stabs, each one linking into the next as the blade crushed the Taurospear's chestplate into a bloody mess. He kicked its corpse aside and forged on, calling his companions' names. The reply came again- clearer, but still not definite enough. It seemed to be coming from the right…

He turned to the east and hacked aside a pair of trees with a single swipe of his sword, the trunks crashing to the ground with a pair of loud thuds. Pulling Lisande over the stumps, he eyed a Tauromacis charging at them and leaped into the air, his blade raised. "Helm Breaker!" he roared, bringing the edge of the sword down upon his unfortunate enemy. There was a grotesque noise as bits of Taurospear suddenly decorated the ground; Ryden looked at his sword with grim amusement before wiping it on a nearby leaf.

"Ark! Dariel!" he shouted for what seemed like the millionth time, his voice echoing throughout the trees.

His cry didn't attract either of the aforementioned warriors, but it did catch the attention of a large, hulking Jr. Balrog, its claws covered with fresh blood as it turned towards them, a hungry look in its eyes as it lumbered towards them.

"Shit." Ryden muttered out loud, as it stomped towards them. It raised its claw and sent a large orb of dark lightning hurtling at them, but with a shout of "Just Guard!", the attack fizzled out just inches from the swordsman's face. Arcing through the air, he launched himself forward in an aerial upwards slash, cutting a deep wound in his enemy's chest. It lashed out at him with a razor-sharp claw, which he narrowly guarded with the edge of his lightning-edged sword. There was a fierce crash as his blade collided with the demon's claws, sparks flying from the impact.

Swiftly, Ryden drew his sword back and lashed out again, a half-moon strike that banged against the edge of the demon's claws. It drew back its fist and sent a gigantic shockwave hurtling towards him, an attack that he didn't dodge quite in time and sent him head-first into the ground. Seething with anger, he immediately launched himself into the air and did a barrel roll through the air, catching the demon's head between his legs and twisting his body to the side.

There was an audible crack as he landed, signifying the success of his attack. Before he could catch a breath, though, the Balrog was on its feet again, injured by his attacks but unfortunately still alive, and now it was gathering energy for its signature attack- the meteor.

He raised his sword in preparation to guard, but before the fatal arte was cast, there was a roar of "Tempest Requiem!", and a sudden whirlwind of fiery wind blades tore through the Balrog from behind, causing its mutilated corpse to topple lifelessly to the ground.

"You guys." Ryden sighed in relief, finding nothing else to say. "Where have you been?"

"Looking through hell to find you." Ark replied, wiping sweat from his face. "What happened to her?" he asked, visibly taken aback as he gaped at Lisande's wounds.

"Oh…she got the brunt of the explosion." Ryden anxiously looked at his companions. "You wouldn't happen to have a potion or two around, would you?"

Both Ark and Marron shook their heads solemnly.

"But-" Ryden's mind raced. "There has to be something we can do! A healing arte- I don't know!"

"She's losing energy fast." Ark muttered, kneeling by the wounded princess. "If we don't close up this gash soon, this could become infected and turn nasty."

"Dariel…" Ryden turned to the blonde-haired swordsman. "You're a Paladin, aren't you? You must know at least one healing arte…"

"I…I'm not exactly sure." Marron raked a hand across his forehead, yanking out several strands of hair in the process. "I might have touched upon the subject once or twice, but I haven't really put it to practical use-"

"Do it." Ark turned to Marron, his face streaked with unnatural worry. "We need her to get to Elaesia. She's the only one who can explain to Athena this whole mess, and…" He stopped himself from saying anything more, but his facial expression betrayed him.

"Oh, god." Marron yanked at a handful of his hair. "I really, really hate you two…"

"Yeah, yeah. Just heal her!" Ryden snapped.

Marron raised his eyebrow a fraction of an inch before he acquiesced, kneeling down and laying a hand on Lisande's wound. Slowly, he crossed the fingers of his other hand and recited a short verse. "_Grant me thy holy powers to revive the weak and heal the wounded…Revitalize."  
_

There was a flash of emerald-colored light emanating from his palm, and as Ryden and Ark watched in trepidation, the torn flesh slowly shimmered before it painstakingly pierced itself back together, fibers and nerves reattaching under the careful eye of the Paladin. The burnt skin quickly faded and withered away as fresh skin arose to take its place.

Finally, after a tense minute, Marron removed his hand and eyed Lisande carefully; where the wound had been, there was merely a smear of dark pink on the skin. "I don't know. It may not hold, but it's the best I can do under the circumstances." He dusted off his palms and got up. "Are you feeling all right, Lady Isalden?"

"Yes, thank you." she murmured, getting up from the ground and dusting herself up. Her sharp eyes flickered about the scorched landscape before she called, "Attention!", her voice resounding through the forest like a bell.

For a moment, there was silence, until the rustling of trees and bushes gave way to line after line of elven troops, most of them battered and bruised but alive. Several were covered with cuts and bruises, and a few were drenched in blood. All of them, however, managed to stand at attention as Lisande cast her eyes over them.

"Between eight and nine hundred." she murmured, as she did a rapid head count. "We should be thankful it was a fairly small loss." She cleared her throat and announced, "We've been ambushed, but I think we've kept our attackers at bay. Be on your guard at all times. We'll have to take a slower pace, but it's better to be on the safe side." She gave a quick nod to Ark, Ryden, and Marron, who kept their weapons out and ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

Slowly, the slightly diminished contingent of elven troops continued onwards to Elaesia, having no idea that they were about to become drawn into the greatest fight of their lives.

-----

As the sun rose over the troubled continent of Victoria Island, it fell upon the Isle of Ascension.

The last rays of the lavender sunset illuminated Rathias Gardner's face as he meditated in the shade of the waterfall, the spray splashing into his face and dousing his hair until it was soaked. He did not care, however- he had much more important things to do than relax in the cool mist.

_Zeraion's improved._

He shifted his position upon the smooth stone he had been sitting on, wringing a handful of his soaked amber hair and brushing it aside. The bowmaster made nary a move even as a sudden cloud of spray erupted from the waterfall, splashing his face and hair once more.

_He shows unusual mastery in his spear abilities- even more than I when I was his age. This is unexpected, but it does not hinder us in the least. His fusion abilities are also excellent. Granted, he does seem to have the basics of bowmastery under his belt._

Gardner opened his eyes and calmly wrung his ponytail out again, a trickle of water running from the braided hair. Deciding that his time for rumination was over, the bowmaster got up from his seat on the stone, his bare chest glistening with waterspray.

"Inferno." he murmured, his fingertips glowing with flame as he passed his fingers over his body. The water evaporated quickly off of his skin, leaving it perfectly dry, after which he quickly changed into his hauberk.

_All that is left to be desired is his aerial abilities. I will need to train him upon Silver Hawk post-haste; after which he must learn Fire Phoenix as soon as possible. Then, perhaps, if we are blessed enough in regard to time, a bowmaster arte or two may be in order. Perhaps Hurricane…_

He cast a gaze at the small house in which Zeraion Phoenix currently slept. For a second, he made as if to venture towards there, his Shinebow drawn, but eventually thought better of it. _Zeraion can take care of himself, and anyway, I'd like to take a midnight stroll. Heaven knows my old body needs it…_

As the bowmaster strung his iridescent weapon and ventured into the forest, the waterfall shimmered brightly for a moment before a figure, clad in an azure-sapphire robe, stepped out of the watercourse.

The figure's golden-colored hair fluttered in the invisible wind as she gently floated towards the land, her body both opaque and translucent at the same time as she moved through the air. Her soulless eyes scanned the landscape for a second before they fixated themselves upon the small house in the forest clearing.

Slowly, she alighted upon the ground and walked towards the small house, moonlight shadowing her path. She pushed open the door silently and took a quick look inside.

The house was small, but comfortable. A small table was set in the middle of the floor with two seats. The remains of a meal- stew and breadcrumbs- lay, waiting to be cleaned. A small bookshelf was propped against the back wall, laden with difficult texts. Two beds lay on opposite sides of the room. One was empty.

Silently, she crossed over to the occupied bed and examined its tenant. He lay underneath a window, and as she watched, the moonlight shone upon his face and gave him an innocent, almost pure look. He had blonde hair, the same shade as hers, and smooth, flawless skin that seemed to shine in the light. A small smile graced his face as he slept- he was probably dreaming of a loved one back home in Elaesia.

He was definitely the one she was looking for.

"Thunder Spear." she whispered, her spirit voice inaudible to all, as a lance of brilliant light materialized in her hand, its glow illuminating the face of the boy below her.

Her eyes betraying no emotion, she raised the spear and held it aloft for a second before her arm lunged forward, the electrified blade of the weapon about to rent through her victim's flesh.

But just as the point of the lance was about to take Zeraion Phoenix's life, it stopped- frozen less than a millimeter from the ranger's emerald-stained hauberk, the jeweled armor's color reflecting off the light of the spear. Her eyes continued to show no emotion as her hand hovered steadily where it stood, barely an inch of space separating the child below her from life and death.

She stood like this for a long moment, regarding her prey lying below her, until she finally returned the spectral weapon to the depths of the abyss with a flick of her wrist, her eyes soullessly gazing at him. There was work to be done, and the destruction of Perion was about to begin.

She could not- would not allow any circumstance whatsoever to override her devotion to her one and only lord and master.

"Don't cry for me, Phoenix." Grace Raizen whispered into the night of the Isle of Ascension, before the wind blew away her silent voice and she disappeared into the depths of the darkness.

* * *

_AN: Finally! I finished up this chapter, after nearly a month of procrastination! Don't worry, there will be no more complicated plotlines after this. The storyline will be fairly straightforward from here on, as I've explained in the author's note at the beginning of the chapter._

_So…11 chapters and 1 epilogue until the end of Revolt! (Yes, I do have the rest of the story planned out. See my profile for details.)_

_Chapter Notes:_

_(1)- To all the smartasses who think they know what's written on Ark's letter, you're very close. But you're also very wrong._

_(2)- If Gault's comment about 'my daughter' confused you, reread the conversation between Ascion and Athena and use your brain cells. Maybe you'll figure it out._

_(3)- Hemophobia is a fear of blood (coughTourniquetcough), acrophobia is a fear of heights, belonephobia is a fear of sharp objects, and nyctophobia is a fear of darkness. Just thought you might want to know._

_(4)- Tales' short comment "I had to perform a lobotomy" is a play on words, as "lobo" is another name for a wolf._

_(5)- The ending scene of this chapter has more symbolic meaning if you reread Grace's dying scene at the end of Chapter 5._

_The next chapter may be a filler/crack chapter, if I get writer's block, but hopefully that won't happen._

_So...anyway, now that I've busted my ass for the past few weeks writing this chapter and I feel like throwing up, could you please drop a review? I promise the blue button in the corner doesn't bite...often. _

_-Kal_


	19. Irrelevant Intercepts 3: Filler Chapter

**Chapter 17.5: Irrelevant Intercepts**

_(Also Known As Something That I Wrote Because I Felt An Apparent Need To Use My Brain Cells And I Didn't Want To Cram For Finals Which Are Conveniently Tomorrow So I Hope You Enjoy And Review, or S.T.I.W.B.I.F.A.A.N.T.U.M.B.C.A.I.D.W.T.C.F.F.W.A.C.T.S.I.H.Y.E.A.R.)_

* * *

_Warning: No, this is not a real chapter of Revolt, as much as I know you'd like to believe. This is just the brainchild of procrastinating and wasting a weekend eating genetically modified, high-cholesterol fare from the local franchised corporations in town._

_Oh yeah, by the way, there is major abuse of Caps Lock here, so you've been warned._

* * *

**Kal's Thoughts on the Future**

_Warning: This part of the chapter contains a long tangent about college admissions and future life, which I know all of you hate being subjected to. So please, no complaining. After all, it is a crack chapter- what'd you expect?_

Welcome once again to the world of Irrelevant Intercepts (anyone with half a brain cell should be able to figure out where I came up with that name), where I get a chance every month or so to prove to you that I'm not some idiotic elitist high school kid with nothing better to do than write crappy stories about a grade-school Korean import MMORPG.

…Well, actually, that _is _kind of what I am. So ignore that previous paragraph.

Truthfully, I've been stoned with writer's block and depression for the last week, even though the next chapter isn't due out for another week. I know most of you are going "OMG KAL BUT U JUST GOT LIK 999 REVIWS FOR UR CHAPTR SHOULDNT U BE ALL HAPY AND STUF LIKE THAT?!11"…well, true. I do appreciate the record 24 reviews for this chapter, which far exceeded my wildest dreams for this story. When this was first published, I would've been content to just get 50-100 reviews for the whole thing.

Now, of course, with practically everyone in the Maple fandom worshipping the gases I exhale, it's not too far to say that there will be at least 400 reviews by the story's end, if not 500. (Ahem.)

But there are some things even reviews can't fix (Gasp! HERESY!), including crazy parents who think that sacrificing the precious, fleeting moments of your carefree childhood just so you can go to a school whose only claims to fame are that it's on the East Coast and is part of a group that named itself after a weed is actually a _good _idea.

I know how all of you were so excited that "over the summer, you'll have more time to write," but sadly, this will likely not be the case. Unless I can figure out how to hijack a 747 within the next two weeks, I am sad to announce that for a month, I will be deported to the country of WhereEverybodySpitsandPissesInTheStreetsAndThePoliceAreNotoriouslyCorruptopia, otherwise known as China. _(Author's Note: I __**am**__ Chinese- I'M MAKING FUN OF MYSELF HERE. Lighten up a little.) _

Apparently, from what our intelligence sources at Kal Ancalas Productions can gather, the Ivy League is part of a conspiracy with the Chinese government to boost the currently less-than-perfect Chinese economy. In exchange for sending young, untainted high school children at ridiculously jacked-up hotel fees to China just so said children can have their name associated with a school from the Weed League, that Communist government we all know and love will provide us American companies with a neverending stream of unskilled, dirt-paid workers. Now you know.

Yep. Great summer, indeed. On top of that, there are also a handful of tennis camps that I also have to attend over the summer because "EEF YOO DON'T GET ON DEE HIGH SCHOOL TENEES TEEM NEXT YEER YOO WONT GET EENTO A GOOD SCHOOL AND YOO WEEL BEE DOOMED TOO THEE HAND OF EEVIL CORPORATIONS SUCH AS PEPSEE-CO." Okay, so that wasn't an _exact _quote, but it was pretty darn close, and _no, _my parents do not inhale helium for a living, but I think writing it like that was the best way to get my message across.

Besides, the horror stories that you've all heard about getting into a good college are mostly untrue. True, there's always the sob story of "OMG I GOT A PERFECT 1600/2400 (depends whether you take the SAT I/II) BUT THOSE BOURGEOIS BASTARDS AT HARVARD/PRINCETON/INSERT OTHER AIRHEADED EAST COAST UNIVERSITIES HERE WOULDN'T LET ME INTO THEIR BEAUTIFUL SCHOOL. NOW I'LL HAVE TO WORK AT MCDONALD'S AND GO EMO.", but aside from that, I have to admit that college admissions committees are pretty fair. Give the guys some credit- they have to read thousands of badly-written essays every year from wannabes. It's no surprise that occasionally, they might snap and send a well-done application down the drain. Likewise, they might get so tired that they'll let said wannabes in.

Although I'm not exactly qualified to give college advice (being 14), I did receive a lecture from a group of the sons/daughters of my parents' friends, who are all in college, and I think it was pretty meaningful, and I think it should benefit at least one person who reads this (if not, then at least you may get a cheap laugh out of my sarcasm).

Colleges aren't looking for an over promoted poster child. They're just looking for someone who can exist well in their environment and be an _asset_ to them- and that's basically what you have to get across on your application. Essentially, it _is _a dog-eat-dog world out there, so applications can get pretty competitive (which sounds contradictory, but stay with me for a bit and you'll see what I mean.), but you have to remember that the admissions committees, even after all that, are only human. Obviously, your chances for admittance won't be very good if you bomb the SAT, but an exceptional score isn't too helpful either. A 1350 from a surfer guy in California is no different from a 1350 from a bookish nerd in New York. Colleges are looking for those things that set you apart, and that's really what matters. As long as you can proclaim yourself fairly unique and above the rest, you have a pretty good chance of getting where you want.

Yes, I deserve to get my ass flamed for going on this long tangent, but I feel that sufficient explanation is needed to soothe all prospective college-goers out there. So just remember- decent SAT, trip to a foreign country for volunteer work, and an admissions essay explaining how stepping on all the camel poo in India while you were volunteering to help deformed orphans changed your outlook on life, and you'll do just fine.

Tyvm.

* * *

**Reviews Corner: Oh Noes, Not the Sarcasm!**

Hello, and welcome once more to Reviews Corner, I'm your host, Kal Ancalas, and today we'll be having a look at how the kind and caring community of FanFiction . Net show their appreciation for the hard effort that we authors put into our stories.

Before we begin, I'd like to extend a hand of gratitude to the wonderful reviewer Nolat, whose creative diatribes on topics such as plot holes, trolls, vegetarianism and morality, terminal retardedness on the internets, DragonBallZ, and Japanophilic elves inspired me to use my brain cells for the first time this week. Plus, she (I'm not sure if the reviewer in question is male or female, but females tend to make the more intelligent comments around here- no offense to Master and Chief and Arbiter) called me sexy, so brownie points for that. My greatest thanks to you, Nolat, and I hope you enjoy reading the review replies that I've sent you as much as I enjoyed writing them.

However, I mustn't forget the other reviewers of this story. Thank you all very much for your continued gratitude and support, whether you be a fan from the very first chapter of this story or you were unfortunate enough to hear about it from a friend. Whether it be a single line of chatspeak, a soliloquy dedicated to me, a serious critique, or a troll, every single review I've received has impacted me personally in some way, and I thank you all for that.

Now, let's skip this gratitude bullshit and get straight to the reviews.

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"_Another great chapter. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease once its done try and get it published. Its and excellant story."_

Not surprisingly, "Are you ever going to get Revolt published?" is one of the questions that I get asked the most. It ranks right up there with "When the hell are you going to bring Grace back?" and "Can I have your kids?".

If truth be told, I have considered, very briefly, contacting a publishing company, but I decided against it for three major reasons:

1.) It's not finished yet.

2.) It's much too long and trivial to warrant an audience's attention. I mean, yes, this fic does extremely well when it comes to satisfying the minds of Maple-playing children around the world, but it would flounder aimed at the mainstream audience of today.

3.) I can imagine it right now. Me walking into the offices of Knopf Publishing Co. (the same company that publishes the Eragon series), after having sent in a copy of the manuscript to their great publishing office and being invited to a personal meeting soon after (of course having first bypassed the gate guards with my natural charisma.)

"Thank you for sending in your manuscript, Mr. Kal Ancalas. You may be wondering why we called you up to our oh-so-top-secret headquarters in some arbitrary city."

"Let me guess…It's to discuss printing costs and royalties, right?"

"Well…not exactly. You see, Revolt of the Archers is indeed a new, unique idea…but the mainstream American audience composed of 18-35 year-olds just isn't a suitable target for a novelization of a Korean import MMORPG aimed at elementary school kids."

"But…but it has lots of action, and fight scenes, and fancy attacks from Tales of the Abyss! How could they not want that?! Plus, it has a hot girl and emo kids with traumatic pasts! What more could you want?!"

"We're sorry, but the manuscript you've submitted is approximately 1000 pages long. Printing, paper, and ink expenses alone would completely destroy our budget. Not to mention that most of it is cliché. You know, the part with the hot girl, the emo kids, and fancy spells. It's too reminiscent of the Tales series. Namco would be raping us with their plagiarism suits."

"OH EM EFF GEE! YOU PEOPLE ARE SO ST00PID!! HOW COULD YOU NOT REALIZE THAT THIS IS AN INVESTMENT! WHO COULD RESIST A STORY WITH SO MUCH WORDZORS AND PLOTS?!"

"But, sir, the costs-!"

"SCREW YOUR FRIGGIN' COSTS! SCREW THE MAINSTREAM AUDIENCE!! YOU HAVE TO PUBLISH THIS BECUZ ITS SO KEWLZORS!!! SOME GUY ON FANFICTION . NET SAID SO!!! OH, AND WINDOZE SUXORZ!! LAWL!!!111oneoneone!!!"

I'm not 100 percent certain, but I'm pretty sure that's how it would turn out. My greatest apologies for assaulting Caps Lock and exclamation marks.

Now, on the other hand…Anyone know any good Korean publishing companies out there?

-Kal

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"_Revolt of the Archer's review count has gone up by one. ;O_

_This story is really addictive! The only thing I find irritating is that maybe you could have not used the name Elaesia... it just sounds so tacky and I know it was definitely copied from Eragon :P Make up some other cool name just not Elaesia . "_

_  
_Romantic idea, but no.

Although some people may comment on the similarities between Alagaesia and Elaesia, the name was actually inspired by the _FullMetal Alchemist _character Maes Hughes' daughter Elysia.

What's so tacky about naming a country after a little girl?

-Kal

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"_Although it takes a while for new chapters to be released, it's definitely worth waiting for. Excellent chapter. Hopefully in the summer you'll have more time to write."_

I wish.

-Kal

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"_Great chapter as always, well worth the wait._

_I am confused about one thing though: how do the archers in your story learn those spear techniques so quickly?  
They're apparently very powerful and yet, they (Pheonix, Arundale) seem to be able to learn them in seonds although they were not taught nor shown them before. Also, they are archers, not warriors, but they seem to have better mastery of those techniques than warriors themselves._

_Keep up the good work."_

The short explanation: Because I said so.

The long explanation: I love people who decide to ask me about plot holes. It always adds a little variety to my weekend aside from those "omgthisstoryissokewlwritemorpl0x" reviews.

Let me make this clear: Although it doesn't seem like it, bowmen do not automatically learn how to use a spear. It is my fault for not explaining this in more detail, but then again, if you read my reply to Rhythmic's review some months back, you know how I feel about detail.

In Zeraion's case, Athos (of course, already being the bowmaster that he was and knowing how to use lightning magic like Thunder Spear) was able to fuse his consciousness into Zeraion, thus 'splicing' the ability to use spear techs into his mind. Over time (as he stays in the Isle of Ascension) Zeraion gradually learns to use the techniques on his own, although at the current point in the story he still relies largely on the ancient Divine Child to use the spear. (Bow techniques are okay.)

As for Natalia (and the rest of the Devil Children, for that matter, because I know there's at least one person that didn't read carefully), I assume you're all familiar with the several-year period in which they stayed in Ellinia to attempt to find a cure for Iggy, Arklanser, and Tales sister's respective "conditions". Of course, they all failed, but in the process they learned some extremely powerful artes (which, coincidentally, mimic those in Tales of the Abyss).

If you read The Lone Crusader, you should know that an artificial arte is one that uses life force to create weapons. Blizzard Sword, Gungnir, Sanguine Stiletto, and Oblivion Staff are examples of such techniques, and they require large amounts of kairns to cast successfully (thank you, Nolat- I'll address the DBZ issue in a sec). Obviously, they didn't gain that mastery overnight- it takes place over several years, but those years aren't shown, as Zeraion doesn't meet the Devil Children until they are in their late teens/early twenties.

The only reason they seem to have greater mastery of these techniques than the spear-users themselves is because the spear-users don't have ancient bowmaster spirits possessing them or Razier's blood flowing through their veins. An exception is Seles, but I haven't had a chance to really show off his fighting skills and likely won't do so until near the end of the story. (Is it just me, or am I promising a lot of things near the end of the story?)

Hope that clears a few things up, and thanks for the review.

-Kal

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"_Sorry it took so long to review, but I've had a recent spate of being addicted to an MMORPG; not Maple, though. Ever heard of Granado Espada?_

_Anyway, great chapter as always. Fight scenes were great, love the scene you put in between Ryden and Lisande. Wish I could say more, but technically I'm not supposed to be using the comp right now, so, until next time!_

_-Chief"_

What the hell is it with Koreans and MMORPGs? Seriously.

Technically, he's not supposed to be using the comp, but he still manages to power-level to 32 within a week…

Oh well. I don't blame you. I did the same thing when I was in my sixties as a Hunter in Bera (ah, good times).

-Kal

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"_As usual that was so good! The Devil Children sections were really intense and... ARGH so good! I don't think I have anything else to say... just put all the other ch18 reviews together and that'd be all I got to say ;;"_

Well, at least one person enjoyed my getting several migraines over the course of May.

-Kal

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"_Sorry I didn't have the chance to review earlier! I was still reading this chapter D_

_I find it really appealing how you give each charater their own background, and expand on it so it's almost like a mini-tale, because I find that with most stories they don't actually care about anyone other than the two or three main characters they have, so doing a story behind it really makes each of their personalities come alive. Don't apologizse about your Author Notes, I find it amusing to read them D_

_Love your dialogues. They're gold. And your battle scenes too. They're so descriptive, and capture the moment so well, and your choice of language is immaculate._

_If I had 1/507th of your talent I would be SO happy, because I find it hard to write one page, let alone the 507 pages you've written TT. I could take this to the publishers and make a book twice the size of Harry Potter out of this, and it would probably sell out in less than a minute DD_

_Point is, you have a massive massive MASSIVE talent for writing, and if you ever stop writing fanfictions (PLEASE DON'T TT) you should seriously consider a career as an author (or at least part-time-author) because your books will definitely sell._

_...I should seriously invest in a dictionary. I don't know the meaning of quite a few words in there (such as ipecac, orthodox, bilinear, reparation...and that's only the Author Notes TT) but that shows the extent of your insert word that means bigger than big vocabulary . Well. Either that or the ...smallness...of my vocabulary._

_Don't stop writing! Even if you stop writing fanfics, just don't stop writing you'll have our support D"_

Have I ever mentioned how much I love reading your reviews?

On a scale of 1-10, with 3 being the average review and 7 being a jewel, this gets a 999.

Now, if only everyone could write reviews 1/507th the talent of this, I would be SO happy.

-Kal

_P.S: Orthodox means conventional, bilinear means two lines, reparation means to make up for something, and ipecac is something that makes you crap out every hole in your body, used to purge poisoning victims._

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"_Yay, update._

_I don't have much to say, I just want to ask you to make a sad ending, where everyone dies and Grace's soul gets lost or something. That would be awesome, totally."_

Heh.

Well, given that this _is _an epic, you can't expect everyone to live happily ever after, can you?

I don't think the ending will be as drastic as you're suggesting, but suffice it to say that at least one major character will be killed off in the last chapter.

Author's Tactic #375: When confronted with a question, provide a reply that raises more questions than it answers.

-Kal

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"_"Lobo"tomy. Ow. It worked well enough without the pun._

_I was struck with a thought as I read through this... I hadn't given it much thought before, but Grace's last name is rather significant, isn't it?_

_This is gonna get good. Me likes. Good luck with the next 11 chapters!"_

For your information, I don't normally like or use wordplay, but that was too good to pass up. Besides, we all know Tales is such a cheeky bastard that he would say something like that.

Surprisingly enough, I have been receiving a number of comments wondering whether Grace's last name has any significance.

My response: The name "Raizen" is derived from a fusion of the Japanese word for 'lightning' and the name of that asshole of a Shinigami we all know from _Bleach, _Aizen Sousuke (shut it, Nolat- for the last time, I am _not _a ----ing fan boy).

Whatever significance you can derive from that explanation is open to interpretation.

-Kal

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And that concludes the first part of Reviews Corner. If I didn't include your review, it wasn't because I didn't appreciate it, but more likely because it wasn't creative enough to merit a reply. (Take a hint from StargazerBlue, if you will.)

Now, as promised, I've saved the best for last, so here we go. I wish I'd saved the review replies I sent to Nolat, but unfortunately, review replies don't have a CC option, so I'll have to reword them for the general public.

Chapter 4

"_One thing I was wondering about: Why doesn't Seles enlist the help of the other classes? I'd think that there'd be people stronger than Gault, and it's not final attack is limited to only the best of the warrior/etc classes. Everyone gets it, therefore, everyone's pretty strong, right?"_

This comment seems slightly out of place, since the Elaesian Armed Forces doesn't exist until about Chapter 10, but I'll do my best to reply to it anyway.

If anyone actually read Athena's explanation of Final Attack in Chapter 1 (which I'm sure no one did), Final Atack for warriors is rather commonplace. Warriors have big, bulky amounts of HP and stamina, so they can theoretically handle the strain of such a technique without incurring harm, unlike Zer who blows his arms up on more than one occasion.

Strictly speaking, this is why the story was written in the first place- to address the lack of the bowman's Final Attack on the current Maple scene, because I've done insane amounts of damage (4500 in one hit)- and that's with a FREAKIN' 93 ATTACK ARUND AND 4 ATTACK GLOVE. Yeah. Chew on that for a second. You would think that all the rangers and snipers of the universe would be lining up in droves to use this technique, but it's losing ground to Strafe. (True, Final Attack is weaker than a maxed-out Strafe, but I can tell you from personal experience that Final Attack will make the journey from 40-80 much smoother as opposed to not using Final Attack at all and putting the points in something retarded like Arrow Bomb/Iron Arrow or Power Knock-Back- quite frankly, as far as I'm concerned, all you really need is a level 1 Bomb for small mob control and stun.)

However, I'm rather chagrined to say that as the story progressed over time, it became less about Final Attack and more about chopping/exploding Taurospears to bits. True, I did make a few references to it along the way, but for the most part I've mostly forgotten about the importance of that particular technique. However, it will make a resurgence in later chapters (another thing to add to the "things that will be explained at the end of the story" list).

About the "there are people stronger than Gault" comment…I won't dispute that, but at the time of Grace's death, he was level 110. And that was 11 (!) chapters ago.

Obviously, Zer has quite a bit of catching up to do.

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Chapter 9

"_Awesome story so far. Thought the MS section would be full of crap, like how fanfics for most MMOs are, but this is awesome._

_However, I think one thing is flawed: Phoenix doesn't like to eat meat..."It's not right to take a life and cause unnecessary suffering just for a bite to eat."_

_But then he goes on rampages, slaying drakes and boars and whatnot by the hundreds. And I'm pretty sure he just leaves their body there just to rot, just kills em for experience._

_Hello? Isn't that a hell of alot worse than killing stuff to eat em, to survive?"_

Interesting that no one's brought that up yet. Leave it to Nolat to ask the questions that nobody else wants to, and that I now have to answer.

Strictly speaking, you're right- although I would have to make one point.

Is it worth it to kill hundreds of drakes and boars- human-eating-and-killing animals that certainly don't help the citizens of Perion in any way with their existence- if it means that you'll gain experience and level up so you can save the world from a delusional, murderous necromancer bowman who killed your girlfriend, and probably millions more people if he followed through with his plans?

Hmm…tough question. Can I use a lifeline?

Besides, if you _really _want to nitpick, anyone who is forced to take AP Biology by their evil, sadistic college-obsessed parents will tell you that the natural elements in the monsters' bodies will eventually be returned to the earth through bacteria in the carbon, nitrogen, and phosphorus cycles. Not to mention that the corpses will provide ample nutrients for the detritivores (scavengers) in the area, such as vultures, so nothing really gets wasted anyway. I only left those minor details out because I figured that anyone reading a fantasy story based off an MMORPG wouldn't be taking AP Biology in the first place.

But thank you for the question anyway.

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Chapter 11

"_omg taht stry wuz teh sh!t ur a rly kewl auhtor!1 (rofl)_

_Sorry, had to be done. Anyway, seeing how much reviews mean to you (and I'm sure most, if not all, FF authors feel the same way) I think I'll actually write one...therefore:_

_Awesome story so far. I love everything you've done, although I think that Gardner not killing Gault seemed terribly unrealistic. He knew that Gault couldn't be saved, so why not kill him to 'save' him? Maybe make Gault stop living in his eternal emoness and loathing. Gardner doesn't seem to be a stupid guy who's easily overwhelmed by emotions; he should've seen that killing Gault would've saved much more lives than not._

_But then again, killing Gault would end the story, and the only other thing that would be plausible was Gault killing Gardner, which I guess wouldn't be too spiffy either...or maybe Gardner killing Gault and getting possessed by some demon, but that'd be totally clichéd and lame._

_Best highlight of the story would be the death of Grace. Totally caught me by surprise, and honestly, I was sorta happy she died. I've seen way too many damsel-in-distress situations, and it gets real old, real fast. It seemed like Grace was becoming one of those archetypes, and I'll be damned if I read a story with one of those in em. It's hard to make a female love interest that doesn't get into trouble every other day, so killing her off was the best idea. Something new, something original. Something to throw the readers off and send in scathing reviews, complaining about them being bereft of any hawt future lemon/lime scenes._

_And yeah, the romance wasn't that stellar either, but we've established that. Best to kill them off because it gets too mushy and crummy to read...amirite?_

_Also, on a final note, you are a sexy man. Quite sexy. Mhmm."_

The Gardner-Gault situation is one of the largest enigmas in this story, and I've had quite a few people ask me about it. Yes, Gardner isn't a stupid guy, but he does get overwhelmed by emotions- everybody does. It's human nature. My explanation is simply that teachers grow attached to their best students after a while, even if they do become homicidal maniacs- anyone who's ever had to tutor vicious-yet-adorable kindergarteners knows what I'm talking about here. Besides, I agree that killing Gault would end the story, and that's st00pid.

Looks like I'm not the only one who was pleased with the death of Grace. Yeah. I figured she'd make for a more interesting love interest if she were killed, resurrected as a freaky spirit on Gault's side, and then only shown in brief scenes.

On a side note, I think you're sexy, too, unless you happen to be a guy. Then I'll demote you to the rank of 'handsome'.

-----

Chapter 16

"_You know, I think you overreacted to that 'flamer'. He spouted a one line review saying you sucked, and you go out on a, for lack of a better word, rant. Hell, just reading over 'ZOMG pleasepleasepleaseplease stop writting your a horrible writter you sux SSO BAD GAWD! 0 You suck at writting and life you losa --', it seems to be obvious that it's a troll. Who the hell writes like that, honestly? You don't feed them, like you just did. You ignore them. He wanted to provoke you, and you did exactly what he intended._

_Keep in mind that you're an awesome writer, and don't forget it. You really shouldn't give a crap about half-assed reviews like the above. Just ignore it and keep on writing. You're good at what you do and don't let anyone convince you otherwise."_

In case anyone who's reading these filler chapters hasn't noticed by now, overreacting is my specialty.

Most people think that trolls should be ignored, but I disagree. If you do that, they'll only continue to plague you- not responding is a tacit acknowledgment that you don't know what to say, and that's a sign of weakness that should be avoided.

Contrary to popular belief, I never get 'provoked' by flamers. Responding to these self-hyped idiots isn't hard, and it definitely helps my self-esteem, because it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside and reminds me that at least _I_ have brain cells. If they decide to reply, then better- gives me more opportunities to give him/her a public spanking, and I get the good PR. It's hilarious to turn these guys' self-assed insults back onto themselves.

So, essentially, I don't mind 'feeding' these idiots. If they want to come to the trough, I've got the whip and the paddle ready. Besides, I think my strategy worked- said troll hasn't made another appearance since my act of assertiveness (note to all trolls out there: If you want to come out of the closet, no one's stopping you.)

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Chapter 17

"_First of all, I have to say that you care too much. Things seem to get to you too easily. People insulting each other, and asking each other if they wnt 2 cybar, and etc, is part of EVERY mmo. It's not just Maple. It's the entire interweb. Pretty sad, yeah, but that's life. So you can do two things:_

_Get off Maple/The interweb or  
Stop getting so riled up about it._

_You won't see those guys EVER again, and I'd much rather see people acting like idiots in MS than in real life. Seriously man, take a chill pill. Yeah, people suck, but what can you do?_

_And now for the review that actually pertains to the story (unlike the previous one...cough.)_

_That KN thing reminds me too much of DBZ. Same with screaming out the names of their attacks. 'Oh my gawd! He's using the KAMEHAMEHA Attack! That requires SIX HUNDRED KN! We're DOOMED!' Guess you can't help it, considering that's how Maple Story works, but I thought I'd throw that out._

_And are those elves Asian, or more specifically, Japanese? I thought adding in Wakizashis and kimonos was pretty weird. Is there really a reason to do that, and not just stick her with a plain ol' long sword?_

_I guess from a literary standpoint it doesn't matter, but when you read alot of fanfiction which throws in all this Japanese... crap, it gets annoying. Alot of fanfiction writers, hell, alot of people in general, have this obsession for Japanese culture. It's not a bad thing; those Japs are pretty obsessed with Americans too, but you can only read so many references to Chakra and ninja-tos and katanas and chi and mystical ninjas before it gets old. I find that your move here is similar to finding people in Maple Story with the name of 'XAznSSJ5KakashiX'. Naruto's cool, Japan's cool, but please don't put it or elements of it in your fanfiction._

_Aside from that, another stunning chapter. Despite all my criticisms, I did read up to chapter 17. Which as you know would've taken many hours. It's a rare time when I find a fanfic good enough to get absorbed into it, and this was one. You've got quite a talent._

_Just too much Japanese fanboyism. Haha."_

"First of all, I have to say that you care too much."

Yes, I do.

The internet was created as a tool of communication, a resource in which people could retrieve information, communicate with each other, share their thoughts, etc. Obviously, I can only surmise that the creators of the internet intended for their invention to be put to good use.

Now, I don't know about you, but I highly doubt buying a megaphone and shouting "OMFG xXBob9123Xx LIKES IT UP TEH ASS GO SPAME HIM PL0X LOL" constitutes good use of the internet.

Simply put (and I've already said this in the PM), people are retarded. They do retarded things, such as spreading shit over the interwebs that shouldn't really be spread in the first place.

Even I'm not exempt from this rule. I'm a people. I've done retarded things, like posting emowangst rants about how society needs to take that big stick out of its ass.

Nolat, I don't fault you for your approach to retardedness. Obviously, you're of the school that applies Darwinist ideas- survival of the fittest. The retards die out eventually because of unfavorable traits (read: stupidity and immaturity), leaving the slightly smarter individuals to reproduce. Works in theory.

But, if twenty-plus years of porn sites, pop-ups, chatspeak, useless blogs (Note: This not to be taken out of context. There are tons of good, informative, entertaining blogs out there that I like- but most blogs, simply put, serve no purpose to society other than informing us that the burrito Random Person had yesterday tasted like feces.), idiotic forums like Slashdot, and whatnot are any indication, Darwin obviously never lived in the 21st century.

It's true that the level of intelligence has risen over the years- with a few clicks of the mouse, you can now find pretty much anything there is to know about the world through highly accurate and informative sources (like Wikipedia), but unfortunately, immaturity's risen as well. You have to understand that MapleStory is intended to be targeted at elementary school kids- 3rd-8th graders- and these are kids who are 8-13 years old. Of course, I can't speak since I'm only 14 and most 3rd graders I know already know how to express themselves using certain four-letter words, but I honestly don't think retards populating cyberspace helps society any.

Obviously, as a fairly widely-read (15,000+ hits) author, I feel it is partially my duty to inform the world of the N00bonic Plague that is currently gracing MapleStory, and if I convince even one person to grow brain cells and act civilized- then hey, I've done my job.

And now for the part of my reply that actually pertains to your review (unlike the previous several paragraphs).

Yeah, I did falter a bit on the KN thing as well. I would never have included it if it hadn't been for a certain reviewer who asked an innocuous question about mana theory, and well…everything went uphill (or downhill, depending on your point of view) from there. Yes, it's cheesy, but it's also MapleStory, so there's little difference.

First of all, I find it hard to fault a society that invented automatic sushi-making machines and vending machines that never jam or go out of order.

I agree that the pervasion of Japanese culture nowadays is somewhat annoying, but hey- go with what works, I guess. We can blame mostly Masashi Kishimoto and CLAMP for this, as well as virtually every shoujo-ai/shonen-ai artist out there for our fascination with Japan. I do apologize for the usage of the words 'wakizashi' and 'kimono', among other things, but as I explained in a PM, the English language doesn't really have any suitable synonyms for "short, curved sword halfway in size between a dagger and a katana" and "highly light, fashionable, and revealing traditional garment". It's cultural diffusion.

For the record, "Chakra" isn't a Naruto reference at all. It's a Chief Bandit technique found in Maple Story that restores one's health at the cost of temporary increased damage. And also, I don't think there is a single reference to ninjas in this story (you're free to prove me wrong any time soon).

Also, if it concerns anyone, I haven't touched a piece of manga in a year. (Of course, I can't say as much for the other thirteen years of my life, but hey- we all have to start somewhere.) I used to be able to tolerate Naruto until that jackass of a Sasuke had to be his shitty, pompous self and go to the dark side, and since then, the series just fell apart from there. For all concerned, FullMetal Alchemist is a much better read. (What, in all honesty, could make people think that pairing Ed with that fag Envy or that arsehole Roy is a good idea, though?)

Lastly, I'm sorry if I sound like a patronizing piece of shit for ranting on about all this, but honestly, I don't mean anything. You're entitled to your opinions about my story, and I respect that, plus the fact that you make intelligent comments. It's just that in turn, I feel entitled to voice my own thoughts on the subject, and I'd like to clear up a few notions floating in the water.

You're a good reviewer, Nolat, and I sincerely hope we can have another nice talk sometime.

-Kal

* * *

**After-Rant Comic**

_Warning: I realize that this comic may inadvertently upset a few people. That's okay- I'm not here to sound insulting. Rather, I'm here to communicate an anecdote that occurred to me over the weekend, and I thought it would be a good case for anti-boredom._

* * *

The comic you're about to read (if Photobucket decides to not be a bitch) is based on a true experience. 

Some time between the posting of the most recent chapter and this one, I received a PM from some user. I won't reveal this user's name for privacy purposes, but the message was…in a word, unique.

I can't recall the exact wording of the message, but it went something like this:

_hi i think ur a relly good auhtor and i realy like ur story revolt of the archres but there is one ting taht bothers me. sometimes u use to many big words like "asertive" _(assertive) _and "noncomital" _(noncommittal)_ that i cant undersatnd. _

_could u try not to use so many big words next time. ok ty and keep riting_

My first impulse when I read this was "What the…"

After I woke from my coma, I drew the following work of art in about an hour, which you can view if you use the URL below.

I would first like to point out that this is not intended to reflect on anyone's intelligence whatsoever (except maybe the person who sent me the note). Yes, I do realize that MapleStory is a game targeted at grade schoolers who likely don't have much of a vocabulary, but still…

Whoo.

Page 1: w w w . i 1 2 1 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / o 2 4 0 / I D o o d l e O n N a p k i n s / p a g e 1 . j p g

Page 2: w w w . i 1 2 1 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / 0 2 4 0 / I D o o d l e O n N a p k i n s / p a g e 2 . j p g

Enjoy and review, and happy Father's Day.

-Kal


	20. Impact Reality

**Chapter 17**

_Warning: Long author's note ahead, but it must be read, so grit your teeth, put on your gas mask, and start reading._

Author's Note: ZOMGLOLWTF UR 14?!?!!111oneone!!! O NOEZ! AN IMPOSSIBLE ANOMALY IN THE UNIVERSE HAS OCCURRED! IMPLOSION AND DESTABILIZATION IMMINENT! aLL j00r B0X0rZ R BELONG 2 US!1!1! OMGWEREALLGUNNADIELAWL!!!111

Yes, I _am _fourteen, and I'm surprised you all got heart attacks over it. Although (for whatever reason) people mistakenly assume that you have to be in college, or at least have graduated high school, in order to write well, this is not the case. I've seen people my age on FFNet write as well as me, if not better. You can blame my seemingly large vocabulary on being exposed to highly hazardous material (books) at a young age, as well as being forced to study for the SAT. (I still failed the test, though.)

It doesn't take a brain surgeon to write well. Look at J.K. Rowling. Although this is in no way meant to reflect off Ms. Rowling's intelligence or her readers', her books are recommended reading for, oh, say, _fourth-sixth _graders. (If truth be told, though, I didn't touch a Harry Potter book until 7th grade. Don't kill me pl0x.) Yet somehow, she's the (insert arbitrary number between 1-100 here) richest person in the freakin' civilized world and all us unworthy Muggles mortals must worship her, not to mention that 4 (5 by July 11) movies have been made about it.

I'd go on a long tangent about how to write well and stuff, but I'm saving that for the last chapter, so blah.

Now, on a different note, I'd like to respond to a few reviews I've been getting. I know that I run the risk of having this come out as Crack Chapter #4, but seriously, this is something I have to get off my chest before I leave on my month-long sabbatical.

Lately, I've been receiving a lot of reviews, which is good. They're also intelligent (well, legible at the very least), which is also great. However, some of the reviews have been going along the lines of "OMG Y R j00R ARCHERZ SO OVERPOWERED IN THE STORY LOL?!11oneone!"

Well, I know I've said this before at least once in a previous crack chapter, but apparently the message needs a bit of repeating, so here goes: They call this site Fan_Fiction _for a reason.

Back in the day (when I was about 12 years of age and a level 40 Hunter), the stories in the Maple section of FF really…well, for lack of a better word, sucked. The problem with those stories was, simply put, a lack of creativity. People would go on Maple, kill some stuff, and then transcribe that time _exactly as it went. _Therein lies the problem. I kid you not, stories were written like this:

_-----_

"_so you goin to ant tunnel today xXbob79Xx?" said n4rut0pr0n as he kiled a mushroom with lucky seven._

"_yeah well if ppl dont hack me cuz taht sux." replied xXbob79Xx as he used a blue potion._

"_omg! 1mil steelies!" n4rut0pr0n suddenly shouted as he rushed to a nearby free market stall and started shelling out all his money like a st00pid n00b (which he was). _

_xXbob79Xx took out an Omok board, sat back, and waited for the floodgates to burst._

"_OMFGWTFBBQ THESE ARE RED POTS!!! U N00B U HACKED MEH! I REPORT YOU!" screamed n4rut0pr0n as he gave chase after the semi-naked beginner mule that had just relieved him of 5 million mesos. _

_Unfortunately, the incompetent GM's that Nexon outsourced from Cambodia were too busy scratching their genitals while inhaling methamphetamine, so n4rutopr0n had to settle for opening an Alien Sack before realizing too late that the hacker had disappeared into the spectral confines of the Cash Shop, and he ended up getting violently gangbanged by a couple of Zeta Grays._

_It was horribly disturbing and sadomasochistic, which is why everybody watching stopped to look and cheer, because Maplers are like that._

_The End._

_-----_

Obviously, I ended up writing the last two paragraphs myself, since no real Mapler would ever use the words 'methamphetamine' and 'sadomasochistic' (probably substituting 'weed' and 'kewl' in their place), but you get my point. These days, (most) stories are much better-written, so we don't have that problem, but it is still exceedingly hard to write anything that will hold people's interest for more than a few minutes. Writing fanfiction for Maple is difficult even more so than any other category because you have to write a 3D story about a 2D game, so to speak.

Why exactly I decide to make all my bowmen overpowered is this. When writing a Maple fic, or any fic for that matter, writing battle scenes is truly a pain in the ass. Watching a sword fight on a movie screen is worlds apart from reading a novelization of _Pirates of the Caribbean _(Law of the Universe #1893: If somebody publishes a book based on a movie or makes a movie about a book, such as Star Wars or The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, it will suck. No exceptions.), and the words and characterizations that you use will matter more so than in any other scene.

Now, I chose to give my archers spears and magic spells because, simply put, it makes for better reading. When using a weapon like a sword or spear, you as an author have a lot of choices to make regarding battle tactics. You can use any number of maneuvers or guards as you want, and the audience will love it. Case in point below:

_Things You Can Do With A Sword_

1. Forward slash

2. Backhand slash

3. Overhead skull-breaking slash

4. Sideways spiral slash

5. Forward stab

6. Forward thrust

7. Lunge sideways

8. Impale through the chest

9. Throw it at someone

10. Use it like a boomerang (author's license used for this one)

11. Cross thrust

12. Upwards arc slash

13. Aerial thrust

14. Aerial spiral slash

15. Forward guard

16. Backhand guard

17. Cross guard

18. Aerial guard

19. Spiral guard

20+. Any combination of the words "aerial", "forward", "backhand", "overhead", "sideways", "spiral", "cross", "arc", "slash", "stab", "thrust", "throw", and "guard".

484. Shoot fireballs with it.

485. Shoot lightning with it.

486+. Shoot pretty much any magical-based projectile with it.

And so on, and so on. See? It's much easier this way.

Now, on the other hand…

_Things You Can Do With A Bow_

1. Fire a projectile

2. Fire a projectile, but add a pretty explosion at the end

3. Whack opponent over head with bow

4. Shout cliché phrases like "You'll never get away with this!"

5. Um…uh…Throw bow at enemy?

6. ASDFZOMGINEEDCAFFEINE!!!111LOL!!!

I rest my case.

Now, some people might argue that there is a fine line between creativity and pure OOCness, but I'm perfectly willing to go out of character if it means I can write a battle scene that doesn't cause people to fall asleep or gouge their eyes out.

Anyway, if my overpowering the archers bothers you, you're perfectly entitled to write a story about some super-powered chosen guy with the powers of all four classes who is destined to save the world in a thousand-year-old prophecy and fall in love with a hot mage girl, but that _might _have been done already, so you'll have to tweak a few details.

Thank you very much, and any further comments may be diverted to our secretary at Kal Ancalas Productions, where they will be tabulated by an underpaid secretary and be filed away under the Official Secrets Act for 30 years and revealed only after a scandal in the White House forces government officials to declassify them.

Now, I took advantage of the useless feature that FF installed yesterday, so if you want to see a pic of ZerPheonix74, check out my profile. The black hair is not a processing error- I did that stupid hair coupon quest in Amoria. Don't be fooled by the Red Pris, Fire Arund, and Green Snowshoes- they're all clean, and they _suck._

Not surprisingly, there is a story behind that picture. I feel sort of embarrassed about telling it to the mainstream audience, but it just has to be told.

So anyway, when I was going on MapleGlobal to download that picture and after I logged in with my NX Passport and all that crap, I looked at the stats for what seemed like the first time in ages.

_ZerPheonix74_

Class: Bowman (Ranger)

_Level: 80_

_World: Bera_

_Pop: (Insert arbitrarily large number here)_

I stared at the screen for about two seconds before- no joke- I started crying. It was not a particularly sad moment, being only a couple of tears down my left cheek, but the message was painfully clear.

When you spend a year of your childhood training a totally legit (yes, hard to believe, but it's _true_) level 80 in MapleStory, there's just something special about that bunch of pixels on your computer screen, and it just hurts when you finally accept the knowledge that all your stuff, all the sweat, blood, tears, and arguments with your parents to stay up another half hour so you can get a couple more percent in before the end of the day, all the hamburgers and salads you had to waste at the Forest of Evil because you couldn't afford to buy an Asianic, all the times you had to endure defames and sexual favors from immature PMS-ing third graders at zombies, all the things that you had to auction just so you could buy a shitty but sexy 93 ATT Dark Arund, has come to nothing.

And then I finally downloaded the picture and posted it up to FF . Net for everyone to enjoy, so my angsty moment was over.

So anyway, for those of you that still play Maple, I beg of you, cherish your characters and don't take them for granted. Or you'll regret it, like me, and you'll be forced to write a fanfic that actually bears little, if any resemblance to Maple whatsoever but helps you rationalize your losses and makes everyone think you're smart even though you're only 14. 

This is the longest chapter yet, with 62 pages and nearly 30,000 words. Now, I've said this countless times before, but because I'm going to hop onto a plane for China in about 2 hours, I'm going to say it one more time. I spent 9.5 hours (no, not kidding; 8:00 P.M. - 5:30 A.M) typing this chapter because I procrastinated, so please, please, if you have any decency in you at all, leave a review on this chapter. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you want to see, what you don't want to see. You have a month to come up with a thoughtful, warm, inspirational comment, and I expect to see over two dozen when I come back from prison (ahem) camp. Don't be afraid to ask questions about the story. I will make sure to compose a sarcastic response while insulting your intelligence at the same time (ahem) thoughtfully and carefully review each and every one of your issues and reply to them in as efficient and comprehensive a manner as possible.

So, enjoy, and a happy summer to all.

-Kal

* * *

Morning broke over the lands of Elaesia, the first rays of the rising sun dancing over the land and awakening the sleepy territory to life. The sound of orders barking and explosions could be heard as the Elaesian Armed Forces began its morning training, clinging on to anything that might help them survive another minute against the dark bowmaster Isentryx.

So it came as no surprise that Ascion Blade peeked into the captains' conference room and saw Joseph Stalrigarde sitting at his desk, bleary-eyed. "What the- Joe, how long have you been here?!"

The hermit blinked, his eyes bloodshot, before turning his attention to a timepiece on the wall. "I dunno- a few hours." His voice sounded as though he'd drunk a jug of whiskey.

"Ugh." Ascion rubbed his eyes. "Now I see what Iris meant about mental degeneration…" He waved his hand in front of the alchemist's face. "You should go take a rest. Delta Division is jumping down our throats…"

"It can wait." Joe waved the matter away with a flick of his hand, his voice slightly clearer. "I've almost got a decent transmutation down here. It's a bit unwieldy, but at least it won't blow up in your face if you try it…"

"Hm." Ascion gently tugged the sheaf of parchment from his hands and glanced it over before pushing it back. "I can't tell alchemic equations from Taurospear tracks, so I'll just pray that these are right." he muttered, glancing out the window.

The hermit ignored the remark. "It still needs a little fine-tuning. Tell those bastards in Theta Regiment that I'll be another couple of hours at most."

"Whatever." Ascion gave the alchemic equations another glance before rubbing his fingers across his forehead. "How on earth did you come up with all these?"

"I've looked over records of previous gravity transmutations." Joe replied, indicating a thick stack of books on the edge of the desk. "I've tried to emulate a different version of Algern's Transformation using the equations and mock trials described." His gaze dropped to the desk and Ascion could see a rock the size of an orange lying on the wooden surface. "Usually, I can get around seventy percent efficiency. _Usually. _But that's not enough to get through a total reconstruction of this place."

"Honestly." Ascion took one of the alchemy textbooks and riffled through it, a small cloud of dust dispersing through the air as the pages flapped past his fingers. "I don't know what you see in this. You should have just stuck to throwing stars like the rest of them…"

"For your information, I never wanted to do this crap." he replied darkly, laying his palms on the desk, his fingers crossed, so that a sky-blue glyph of light appeared on the surface of his hands. A bright light surrounded the stone on his desk, causing it to levitate upwards to the ceiling. With a sudden flick of his wrist, he destabilized the reaction and caused the stone to plummet back to earth, where he caught it in his outstretched palm.

"Not bad." Ascion remarked admiringly.

"Yeah, well…" Joe darkly rubbed his hands as though there was something dirty on them. "Try doing that with a couple of buildings."

"I'll continue my work on a gravity arte." Ascion replied, standing up. "But we need to make sure you don't drop dead from sleep deprivation. Go outside and tell your troops to do 200 laps or something, then go take a nap."

"Can't." Joe replied shortly, scribbling something on a messy-looking scrap of parchment.

Ascion sighed. "I'll have you know that I-" His gaze flickered to an odd-looking metallic contraption on the desk, resembling a ride at an amusement park. "What the hell is that?"

"This?" The alchemist's eyes flickered over to the aforementioned gadget. "It's an alchemic centrifuge. I use it to gauge reactions." He laid his left hand on the device and muttered something under his breath; there was a flash of turquoise light as the machine suddenly whirred to life, spinning around rapidly like the blades of a fan.

Ascion exhaled. "Well, anyway, Stalrigarde, I'll have you know that I am of a higher rank than you, and as such, I can _order _you to go outside if I want to."

The hermit looked up mutinously. "How often have you said that so far?"

"Couple of times." Ascion brushed a strand of hair from his face in a laissez-faire motion. "Now get up from that desk, or I'll see you in Athena's office."

The alchemist muttered something offensive under his breath before picking up the stone from his desk and transmuting it into a neat row of trench knives, which he swiftly pocketed and stomped out of the room.

"Seriously…" Ascion wiped his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. "This war is destroying us." His gaze flickered to the pile of equations that Joe had left behind; darkly, he examined them once more. "What a gyp."

He drew a clean sheet of paper from the desk, cracked his knuckles, and set to work.

* * *

The morning sun beat ferociously upon the forest of Sleepywood, as if to exemplify the destruction that had been wreaked upon its heartland moments ago. A powerful arcane trap had been triggered moments ago, destroying a large section of the woodlands and weakening the large contingent of elven scouts under the leadership of Lady Lisande Isalden. Morale and stamina were especially low at this time.

The sound of armor clanking and footsteps thudding pervaded the landscape as the only three humans in the group led the way forward, occasionally taking the time to spit on the ground or murmur a quick four-letter word.

"I've been meaning to ask you…" Lisande Isalden's voice broke through the caustic, almost poisonous silence. "Why do you humans wear plate armor? Isn't that a bit cumbersome?"

"Heh." Ark Wolfen raised a disheveled eyebrow at Lisande's own gown, currently in a less-than-perfect state. "Better than wearing a dress."

"It's magically reinforced!" the elf retorted indignantly, tossing a handful of raven-black hair behind her neck.

"Uh-huh, and it definitely saved you from being burnt to a crisp." Ryden replied smoothly, keeping his hand on the hilt of his blade.

"I was at the epicenter of the arte when it activated." she replied bluntly, refusing to admit defeat. "That would have rent through any normal armor like onionskin paper-"

Dariel Marron, silent through the whole incident until now, calmly held up his hand to stop the princess' quibbling. "Be that as it may, Lady, we have slightly more imperative matters than discussing your choice of attire." He casually unsheathed his Heaven's Gate and examined its razor-sharp edge under the sun, rubbing a bit of caked blood off with his thumb. "I may need to do some maintenance on this…"

"I think your ego needs the maintenance." Ryden muttered, but only low enough for him and Ark to hear.

"Did you say something?" Marron did not look up from polishing his weapon.

"No." Ryden bit his tongue and tried not to laugh.

"Whatever." Marron shrugged before sheathing his sword and turning back to Lisande with a worried expression. "Do you think another assault can be expected?"

A dismal expression crept over the princess' face. "Truthfully, Seles, I don't know. In order to detect any further ambuscades, we need a magic-user- someone who can detect the mana currents pervading the atmosphere- and I'm afraid Galion conveniently forgot to include any spell casters in our forces."

"Charming." Marron cracked his knuckles. "I'm no good with spells- I can use strike artes and some slight healing abilities, but that's about it." He gazed upwards with a bitter look on his face before turning to his companions. "You two?"

"I've learned Angel Pyre, but that's about it." Ark shook his head darkly, several tufts of dark, disheveled hair flying into his face.

"I might be able to do it if I used Dragon Trigger, but I'm a bit drained from the previous events." Ryden replied dismissively. "I hope you have a magic crystal ball stashed in your emergency Paladin survival kit somewhere, because if you don't…" He made a violent gesture in midair. "We're kinda screwed."

"Some help you are." he replied condescendingly, cleaning his sword between his fingers and glancing upwards into the sky. "We have roughly a five-hour walk ahead of us, assuming we don't run into any more beasties along the way."

"We'd better not," Ark muttered, running a finger along the smooth edge of his golden axe, "unless some stupid Taurospear wants to get their head chopped off…"

Ryden shrugged wordlessly and punched his fist listlessly through the air. "I wouldn't mind being back in Elaesia right now…even if it means we have to deal with Miss Bossy Elven Bowmistress again." he added, with a slight smirk.

"Doesn't matter." Ark made a meaningless gesture with his hand. "She'll send us back out faster than you can say 'paperwork'."

Marron gave a dry chuckle from behind, his greaves scraping the ground. "I'd say we still have five hours of walking left."

* * *

The sky was bright above Elaesian Colonel Luke Sinclaire's head as he ran across the hunting grounds of what had formerly been Henesys, now converted into a small running strip for its armed forces.

"Hmf." Sinclaire's heavy footsteps thudded against the ground as his auburn hair fluttered behind him. "Stop lagging behind!" he bellowed at the subordinates behind him, all of which had either a bow or crossbow slung behind their backs. "You people can't even do two miles in fifteen minutes! What kind of bowmen are you?"

"Well, _excuse _us, Colonel, but it's rather difficult to run at maximum energy output when it's a hundred degrees outside." Colonel Reneas Aries replied, his jet-black hair sheeting across his shoulders.

Sinclaire bit his tongue. "Sorry. It's just-"

"Stress getting to you too?" Reneas flicked a strand of sweaty hair from his eyes as he ran.

"Well- yes." The ranger bit his tongue before he used a word he knew he would regret.

Unfortunately for him, Reneas knew his childhood friend all too well. "I see. Do you always spell 'stress' with a 'D' at the beginning and an 'Arklanser' at the end?"

"She's been away for some time, Ren." Sinclaire snapped bluntly. "So I am a little worried- what's your point? Shouldn't I be?"

"No, no." Reneas put up a hand in mock subservience. "It's not my business to interfere with Colonel Sinclaire's puppy love affairs, just because he thinks every other female in Elaesia is a dirty piece of jailbait-"

"Shut up." Sinclaire snapped, nervously eyeing the landscape to see if anyone had heard and exhaling when no response was provoked. "I see misery loves company." he muttered to himself, setting himself a few paces ahead of the ranger behind him.

After completing the lap and gingerly casting a backwards glance at Reneas from afar, Sinclaire raised a hand to signal a stop. Abruptly, all the members of Epsilon Regiment skidded to a halt in their tracks and lined themselves up in front of the ranger's watchful eye.

"Well, that was shit." The colonel darkly folded his arms across his chest. "I suggest you all get a good night's sleep instead of staying up all night tonight. You'll need it if you want to survive tomorrow." There was a collective groan across the ranks, but he pretended not to hear it. "We'll work on target practice now. I hope, for your sake, that your arms are slightly better than your legs." He turned on his heel and commanded, "Puppet," causing a row of straw figurines to appear across the strip, and jabbed his thumb at them. "Get moving."

There were murmurs of resentful assent as the sound of bows and crossbows being strung permeated the air. Sighing to himself, Sinclaire stared levelly at the horizon before stringing his golden-colored Nisrock. He wouldn't be surprised if all of them revolted and stormed the whole place right now- but he really couldn't blame them.

After all, there were some days when he felt like doing the same.

"Damn this." he muttered, out loud, as he blew a straw dummy to bits with a snap of his bowstring. "Damn this all to hell."

"Touchy, huh?" a voice spoke out next to him, and Sinclaire whipped around to see a dark-haired ranger several years younger than him grinning upwards as he adjusted his Golden Hinkel.

"Ah, it's you, Triton." Sinclaire muttered, biting his tongue. "Next time, I'll try not to use such coarse language in front of such young children."

"Hm." Captain Marcel Triton merely raised an eyebrow at the implied insult. "We could always desert."

"Athena would kill us." Sinclaire replied coolly, firing off another salvo of arrows into the air. "And then string up our bodies and hang them from the roof of the main armory."

"You're very optimistic today, Colonel." the teenager replied, using a strike arte of his own and calmly impaling four targets through the heart with a well-placed Strafe.

"Maybe so." he replied, darkly running a hand through his dark auburn hair. "But in any case, I can't shake off the feeling that something bad's going to happen at any moment. You know what happened when those Omega Balrogs infiltrated the place, and I can't say my nerves were entirely reassured by that incident."

Triton closed his eyes and let another arrow fly through the air, its golden point piercing the last dummy on the range through the head. "Be that as it may, Colonel, I doubt we'll be in any position to handle combat of any kind if we've all got pent-up angst."

"Shut up, brat." Sinclaire diffidently flicked his wrist and commanded, "Puppet." The burnt ashes upon the secluded field were replaced with a fresh wave of straw doppelgangers; he untied the worn-out drake-gut string from around the limbs of his bow and replaced it with a fresh string. "It isn't your business to inquire whether I'm depressed or not, and I- and everyone else, for that matter, would prefer it if you focused more on your aim and your technique than anyone else. This is war." He cast his hand at the not-yet-repaired remnants of the Gamma Division wing, still smoldering in the distance. "You can't afford to get personal, or you'll lose your life faster than you can draw an arrow."

Triton did not bat an eye as the colonel finished his dissertation. "Hypocrite." he muttered under his breath as he raised his Hinkel for another shot.

Unfortunately, the ranger had very good hearing. "Excuse me?" he said, icily, glaring at the captain.

Amazingly, the teenager did not back down, but stood his ground as Sinclaire's eyes drilled holes through him. "I said you're a hypocrite, Colonel. You're telling me that I should leave my nose out of other people's business, and yet you're busy chasing after some woman that for all we know, doesn't even know you exist."

Heat flushed into Sinclaire's cheeks as he resisted the overwhelming impulse to punch the boy in the face. "What do you know?!" he snapped furiously, the string of his bow snapping and whipping across his cheek, leaving an angry weal on the skin. "_That _is my personal affair, and I would appreciate it if you didn't discuss that at the moment!" Several heads turned at his outburst, but he took no notice of it. "Furthermore, if I recall correctly, you are one rank lower than I am, and as such, you have _absolutely _no rightto address me like that!"

He suddenly froze, reconsidering what he'd just said in his mind, and put a hand to his forehead. He stole a quick glance at the stunned bowmen about him and realized many of them were staring at him like he had just vomited on the ground; he silently swore and grit his teeth before turning back to Triton.

"I'm- I…sorry." he finally managed to mutter after a drawn silence, turning his attention to the ground, which seemed like the friendliest thing in the vicinity at the moment.

Triton merely shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Colonel. Stuff like this happens. After all…" He turned back to the straw targets and launched a burst of flame at them, blowing two to blackened bits. "As you said, this is war."

"Hmph." A sudden shout caused Sinclaire to glance away from the replicas for a second, and he looked up to see none other than the Devil Children, several yards away, walking towards them.

…_shit._

The ranger felt as though his insides were being forced through a rubber tube as he tore his line of sight away from Delinia Arklanser. In all honesty, she looked worse than ever, scorch marks and stab wounds covering her form, but somehow, Sinclaire thought, that only made her more attractive in its own special way.

A few yards away, they paused briefly, and Sinclaire could see (unfortunately) that Arklanser was talking to Tales. He could see a light, dry smile working its way around the amber-haired sniper's mouth, and his insides constricted even further- he had enough common sense to know that _that _was probably not a good thing.

It seemed that time couldn't go by quickly enough as the Devil Children resumed their walk, and he realized too late that _she _was walking towards him, while Tales, Igzarion, and Arundale stayed back just a few feet. He saw that all three were smiling snidely, like kids in control of some schoolyard gossip, and he braced himself to prepare for the worst.

"Luke…" The mention of his first name caused him to open his eyes- just a crack- and he now realized that she was standing very close to him. _Very _close.

There were snide whispers coming from the rest of Epsilon Regiment as she hung close to him, whispers of not-too-pleasant conversation coming into his ears. Feeling bile rise into his throat, Colonel Luke Sinclaire blinked and forced himself to swallow, his mouth dry. "Yes?"

"I…" She hung tantalizingly in front of him, looking as though she was about to say something but couldn't. He felt beads of perspiration slide down the back of his neck and reflected on how nice it would be to have some deodorant right about now.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what transpired in the next minute.

"I…I've missed you." she finally confessed, throwing her arms about him, sweaty neck and all, as she latched her lips onto his, her tongue delving deeply into his mouth for the first time. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as she melted into him, ignoring the hoots and catcalls that rose into the air behind him.

Suddenly, it seemed as though sixty seconds couldn't pass slowly enough.

* * *

A small smile graced Rysdale Tales' bloody lips as he watched the both of them kiss; with a quick motion of his carmine-stained scarf, he turned away from the spectacle and began to walk back towards the barracks of Elaesia.

"Rysdale." There was a motion behind him and he looked up to see Igzarion, with a rare smile on his face. "Aren't you going to stay and watch the show?"

"Hm." The sniper gave a wry expression. "I'd rather rent them a room. Anyway…" His gaze flickered upwards to the sunrise. "It's almost training time. I'll see you at Florina."

Igzarion blinked, nonplussed, as Tales calmly walked away from him.

"Idiot." Igzarion rumpled his dark hair with his bloodied gauntlets. "He didn't even bother to get himself healed…" His eyes followed the darkening silhouette into the horizon before he finally turned to Arundale. "You all right?"

"Of- of course I am." she replied, a smile on her face. "I'm just happy for Delinia. It's about high time she finally decided that for herself…"

Igzarion merely hummed apathetically and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You know what she is, Natalia. He hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell if he wants to-"

Arundale gave him a fierce glare that shut him up. "You are so pessimistic! Can't you see that they love each other?"

"Of course." The ranger lowered his eyebrow. "If love means eating each other's face, that is." He waved a hand at Sinclaire and Arklanser, still locked in each others' embrace.

"You are so tactless." Natalia fumed, before turning away and stomping into the headquarters of Elaesia, away from where Tales had ventured minutes ago.

Igzarion merely shrugged the insult off. He'd been called worse before, and anyway, it was Natalia speaking, and heaven knows she had more than the right to call him whatever she pleased.

Expertly concealing a smile underneath his classic dark frown, Igzarion calmly walked up to the entwined couple and tapped Arklanser on the shoulder. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Delinia, but I do believe Rysdale expects us at Florina Beach any moment."

She broke the kiss long enough to reply, "Stuff it, Iggy. I have a few things I need to take care of. Besides, Natalia isn't going, anyway, so I wouldn't have anything to do." She nodded at the distant spire of Elaesian headquarters before turning back to a stunned Sinclaire. "Now, where were we?"

Igzarion forcibly put a hand to his forehead and shook his head, his dark hair flowing about his shoulders as he turned away and left them to their own devices. "That's not all you have to do." he muttered as he left, but low enough for only himself to hear.

In his mind, he considered following after either Arundale or Tales before finally deciding on the latter- she probably needed to rest anyway, and he looked particularly forward to practicing a few battle techniques after the ordeal he'd gone through an hour ago.

Once he was out of sight, he broke into a run and caught up with the sniper just half a mile outside of the Henesys-Elaesia territory. "Wait up!" he panted, nearly tripping over stray bits of gravel.

Tales barely raised an eyebrow. "So you're coming, then. Where's Natalia?"

"She went- to headquarters." Igzarion panted, spitting into the side of the road. On any given day, he could have run a mile without even breaking a sweat, but his current injuries belied his physical state. "And Delinia is- well, you know." he finished lamely, putting a hand to his bloodied hauberk. "Chakra." A series of multicolored orbs flashed briefly about him before they dissipated, sealing up his scars somewhat.

"Hmph." The sniper tossed a large handful of hair behind his back and continued onwards to Florina Beach. "You're rather perky this morning."

"Shut it. You saw what I went through during the night, and I don't feel like repeating it. Besides…" Igzarion's eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim morning. "You might want to be careful. Wouldn't want to run into a _beast _or somethingon the way…"

There was an audible snapping noise as the heel of Tales' greaves came down with unnecessary force onto a stray branch, his pace resolutely quickening afterwards. Pleased with having being able to touch a temporary nerve in his friend's unbreakable visage, Igzarion soldered on, a stray gust of wind whipping across his face.

"Hm." Tales unsheathed his Marine Raven and ran his hand across it as though checking for scratches. "I may need to tweak this a bit sometime. The trigger's slightly off…"

"That isn't all that's off, Rysdale." Igzarion cut in, somehow managing to catch up to the sniper. "You should have gotten a Crow or a Neschere months ago."

"For your information, I spent my life's savings on this damn thing." Tales replied icily, sliding the weapon back into its quiver. "Anyway, not all of us enjoy walking into the middle of nowhere just so we can beat up a gigantic stone statue for a new toy."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Igzarion rumpled his hair. "I remember that- that was two or so years ago. I went with…Delinia, Shinn, Torr, and Gardner." he said, counting off on his fingers. "And Gault." he added, the word hanging dangerously in the air.

"Oh, right." Tales' footsteps calmly echoed across the Victorian crossroads that led to Lith Harbor. "I remember that. What happened to Lucian?"

"Don't know." Igzarion shrugged darkly, taking out his Black Metus and tying a fresh length of drake gut around its limbs. "He got in a fight with Gault said he was going back to Nath, the chicken…although I didn't like the look in Gault's eyes afterwards. Still don't."

"I see." The sniper considered the tidbit for a second before he discarded it. "Nothing's been going right these days."

"When did you figure that out?" Igzarion twirled the weapon about his wrist in a circular motion before returning it to his quiver. "Ever since this whole mess with Gault running out, Phoenix blowing up Victoria, and the formation of the EAF…it's just screwed up."

"Yep." Tales exhaled; they were at the gates of Lith Harbor. Both bowmen walked to the city marina and approached a lanky sailor standing near a rickety boat. "Two, please."

"Thousand each." the seaman coughed, his breath distilled fumes of alcohol in the morning air.

Tales neatly peeled a thin stack of bills from his jacket pocket and handed them to the sailor, who jabbed a thumb at the deck of the boat as signal to leave. The morning sun flung beams of light into their eyes as they sailed the short distance to the sandy shores of Florina.

Igzarion silently let his elbows rest against the cold metal rails of the ship. They were still slightly reeking of fish oil, painted over the rails to discourage rusting. The odor did nothing to help his mood as he stared into the inky expanse of dark water in front of him, the sun just rising above its surface and illuminating whatever it could.

The scene was picturesque, almost tangible, and Igzarion knew that there should have been a metaphor of some sort in his mind to describe it- but he didn't. He merely hung back and let his fingers, calloused from snapping bowstrings and wielding knives, dangle over the edge of the rails. His fingertips stung as they made contact with the salty sea air.

"Mm." The grunt was inconsequential, an admission of existence and nothing more, as he darkly gazed into the sea as though it had done him a personal wrong. It stared back, almost mocking him with its depth, its abyss, and the reflection he couldn't see but knew was there.

"Iggy." Tales' voice broke the window that was Igzarion's serenity as the ship sluiced through the dawn tide. "You seem troubled."

"What else is new?" Igzarion crossed his elbows in annoyance.

"No, even for you, I mean." The blunt edge of the sniper's logic was apparent, even to him. "This is because of the temporal arte, isn't it?"

There was no audible reply from the dark-haired ranger, but a simple, nonchalant shrug of the shoulders was enough. Ignoring the scent of rotting sea life that hung about the deck, Tales leaned on the rails next to his temporary friend. "I wouldn't mind a bit of conversation early in the morning. Helps me stay awake, and it's much more productive than putting a shard of ice through your brain."

"Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm not an ice artist, so that's out." Igzarion replied in a barbed voice. The comeback felt strangely relaxing when he said it.

"Heh." Tales calmly clenched his fist and then spread his fingers out in a circular motion, a simple flick of his index finger producing delicate crystals of ice as his arte fused and solidified base elements of the air. He ended the spell with a downward twist of his fingers and let the crystals drop into his palm.

"Seven years, Iggy." He held the crystalline facets up to the horizon, letting them reflect the sun's light for a split second until they became a puddle of water in his palm. "Seven years of reading those god-forsaken books and looking up just about everything there is to know about magic, all for this."

He clenched his fist and watched as drops of water seeped from between his fingers and hit the deck with soft plips, almost like tears.

"You're thinking of Natalia, aren't you?" he said abruptly, jerking Igzarion out of his reverie.

"And why shouldn't I be?" Igzarion replied testily. "She is my sister."

"Your _step_sister." Tales corrected, in an arrogant yet gentle tone. "The temporal arte must have affected you much more seriously than I expected." His expression became pensive for a moment before it returned to normal. "It must have hurt."

"When?" Igzarion responded, taking the bait.

"When she was stabbed." Tales took off his glasses and used a delicate arte to clean them, microscopic flecks of frozen ice abrading the lenses until they were smooth. "It makes perfect sense, after all. You saw your half-sisters being stabbed in front of your eyes twelve years ago, and I would surmise Gault took that into account when premeditating his tactic."

"Where's your degree in psychology, then?" Igzarion snapped brusquely, forcing himself to become very interested on a pile of dead fish on the other side of the deck.

"I've known you for twelve years, Iggy." Tales merely shrugged and perched his glasses on the rim of his nose, giving him the appearance of a large-eyed bird of prey. "It doesn't take a psychologist or rocket scientist to figure out what's wrong with you after that."

The tension in the air was almost tangible as Igzarion clenched his fist. "She was my stepsister, Tales. She cared for me, as much as I hate to admit it, and I would give my life for her if I could. You, of all people, should know that."

"I don't deny it." the sniper replied flatly, ignoring the remark. "You should have taken better care of yourself. I understand that she loves you- after all, it's hard not to love a psychological maniac, child drunkard, and killer- but again, I stress, you have to take care of yourself." The remark made Igzarion look up, as it was rare that Tales had shown any…emotion towards him.

"I..I don't know what happened back there." he finally confessed, burying his head in his arms. "I wanted to save her, I really did, but I couldn't. I tried everything- dispel, arcane, artificial- nothing." he finished, raking a hand across his forehead. "I should have worked better on Sanguine Stiletto- I might have been able to-"

Tales' glasses slipped further down his nose in disappointment. "That's not the point, Iggy. An artificial arte is only as good as the one that summons it. You can put a bow or a crossbow in a child's hands and they can point it, and if they're lucky, kill someone. But any weapon- especially when crafted from scions of unstable mana- is intended only for the hands of an experienced user. Accidents can happen even to the most thorough of mages-"

Igzarion's teeth ground against each other, a dim cracking noise piercing Tales' metaphor. "I'm not some little _boy, _Rysdale." The tone of his voice was peevish and pinched.

Uncharacteristically, Tales softened. "No. I didn't mean to imply that. But I know how I would feel after a temporal arte of that magnitude, and I don't particularly feel like witnessing you having a mental breakdown, especially not when we have a war over the horizon."

"War. What is it?" Igzarion dusted Tales' words away with a flick of his wrist, inadvertently shooting sparks into the air. "Just two groups of people swinging swords and blasting fireballs at each other. We're the Devil Children, Rysdale. We haven't even seen any decent action yet-"

"Does that include Omega Balrogs blowing half the place up?" Tales replied, his voice as frozen as the knowledge of ice artes that flowed through his veins once more. "Yeah, yeah, we are the Devil Children, with our little tragic pasts, our arcane artes, and all that. Do you think that will make a difference to the next Taurospear or Balrog- or Gault, for that matter?" He let the threat hang in the air like Damocles' blade before continuing. "It's not that I would mind being called Captain Tales and commanding a bunch of people to run laps all day- it's no different from being in the Uprising." He cracked his knuckles as Igzarion listened charily. "But it's the principle of the thing. If you knew that you could prevent people- innocent citizens of Victoria Island- from suffering the same fate as her, would you?"

Igzarion's mouth opened for a reply and shut down halfway, wisps of exhaled vapor apparent in the cool morning.

Tales did not give his usual smirk at having won their mini-competition of a conversation, but rather watched the water languidly as it sped past, the cloak of darkness over the water being lifted by the gentle hands of sunshine.

It wasn't until they had stopped and the sailor had let out a loud, drunken belch to signify their arrival upon Florina Beach that Igzarion finally said what he had been meaning to since the end of their conversation.

"You would have done the same thing for Laura." he said, in a temperate, even tone.

The glasses, dangling precariously upon the edge of sharp reason, fell onto the golden-tan sand with a soft noise.

Wordlessly, Tales bent down and picked up the spectacles, cleaning the lenses with a mild flick of his fingers.

"Yes, I would have." he finally conceded in a blunt tone, carefully shielding away the memories of tears, snow, blood, and claws that came with the admission.

* * *

"Zeraion."

The voice cut through the air with the alacrity of a missile and awoke Zeraion Phoenix from his slumber, causing him to jerk upright in bed. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, only to be greeted by the calm, passive gaze of Rathias Gardner.

"H-hey, Gardner." Zeraion did not bother to stifle his yawn. "What are we doing today?"

"If time permits, everything." the bowmaster replied, a gust of wind whipping his long hair across the room. "I trust you will be able to dress yourself in five minutes."

"Y-yeah." Zeraion yawned a third time and threw the covers off himself; however, as soon as his fingers touched the fabric, a large burst of static electricity pulsed through his hands and caused him to yell a four-letter word that unfortunately attracted Gardner's attention.

"I hope the bedsheets aren't giving you too much trouble, Zeraion." Gardner's voice floated from outside through the window and mocked him in his ears.

"It's nothing!" he yelled out the window before falling to muttering more obscenities, in a much lower voice this time. "Damn it." he muttered as he finally buttoned up his jacket and pulled on his gloves. "It wasn't like there was a thunderstorm in here or anything…"

He neatly folded his emerald-colored jacket and stowed it underneath his bed, forgoing it for a sapphire-colored hauberk instead. The Abyssal Arund glinted as its limbs reflected the sun.

"You aren't too hungry, I hope?" The bowmaster's voice was as concrete as ever, a tone of blunt indifference mixed with a touch of farce.

"No." Zeraion shook his head and flexed his muscles in midair, preparing himself for the impending doom that was about to come over him.

"Excellent. I suggest you start a run of about 25 laps about the waterfall in order to clear up your insides. It won't do you much good if you get stomach cramps in the middle of training today." Gardner shrugged and smiled, closing his eyes. "There was one time, when I was about your age, that I ate a few apples before practicing aerial maneuvers." He chuckled in reminiscence. "You would be surprised how quickly organic fiber passes through one's-"

"All right, I'm going!" Zeraion exasperatedly threw his hands into the air as he took off, a blur of sea-blue and gold amongst the pristine spray of the waterfall and the lush chartreuse shade of the forest.

Despite the years of practice he had had over his time as a bowman, physical stamina was one of the few qualities that had managed to elude him. He found himself becoming short of breath near the 15th lap and had to pause several times near the end, finally throwing himself to a rough stop in front of Gardner.

"I'm…done…" he managed to pant, coughing up beads of sweat and other viscera onto the ground.

Gardner barely raised an eyebrow. "I can see that, Phoenix. Now, would you like to work on defensive artes, melee tactics, or bow techniques?"

Zeraion considered each choice before rejecting it in his mind. "Bow techniques, I guess." he replied dully. Truthfully, he knew he should probably work on his defensive abilities, but he did not feel like getting shot at so early in the morning, and his melee tactics were already above par. Better to learn something conventional for once.

"I see. Very well, then." Gardner unsheathed his Shinebow from his quiver in one neat motion and strung it, the resounding note echoing across the landscape. "You have, of course, been practicing at the very least, am I correct?"

"Yes." Zeraion nodded. He had, in fact, taken many a retreat into the forest to shoot down various monsters, and had also cheated death a few times in the way of forgetting where monster nests were and slipping once or twice on a high-placed branch.

"Good. I would sincerely regret having to reteach you Strafe…well, in any case, let's see how your fusion artes have been improving." He raised his Shinebow and drew the string back, enchanted flames leaping from the limbs. "Inferno Strafe!"

Four orbs of flame materialized at the fore of the bowmaster's weapon before they discharged themselves with a series of loud explosions. Zeraion winced as the projectiles made contact with the ground; when he opened his eyes, a crater had replaced a large grove of trees to the east of the waterfall.

Hating himself for his utter inferiority to the man standing next to him, Zeraion strung the Abyssal Arund and pulled the string back, taut under his fingers. "Inferno Strafe!"

The resulting blast, although not nearly as magnificent as Gardner's, was nevertheless effective enough to slake a fiery path through the forest, the scent of burnt foliage hanging in the air. Gardner clucked his tongue empathetically as Zeraion redrew his weapon.

"You could try aiming for a little more strength next time, but aside from that, I haven't got any complaint." Gardner calmly raised his bow to the sky and tensed his wrist, the bowstring making a loud snapping noise as it recoiled. "Omega Crush Rain!"

A white-hot pillar of flame exploded from his fist and into the sky, where it seemed to hover dangerously in the air before coming back down to earth. The column divided itself into a fiery helix that quickly splintered into a series of red-hot bolts, each one bursting with fiery destruction over the landscape.

Gardner let the Shinebow fall to his side and surveyed the destruction with a satisfied air. "Not bad." he murmured to himself. "Now, you try." He flicked his wrist and commanded, "Puppet!" About a dozen straw figurines suddenly decorated the scorched landscape, winking at the ranger with their emotionless button eyes.

"Hm." Zeraion studied the landscape for a second before raising his bow and commanding, "Omega Crush Rain!" He felt a burst of energy suffuse him as the fusion arte took effect, a bolt of furious flame and lightning erupting through the air and smashing back into the ground at full force. A great blast of smoke and dirt was thrown into the air, blinding Zeraion for a moment; when it cleared, all but two puppets were reduced to ashes.

"Damn it!" Zeraion angrily flicked his wrist and commanded, "Inferno!", sending another burst of flame from his bow to burn the nearest puppet to a crisp. Feeling the recoil of the technique flow about him, he closed his eyes and commanded, "Final Attack!" The particles reformed themselves in mid-air to create a large flaming javelin, which he shot at the last puppet with a seething fury. The ground exploded once more, sending more dust and dirt flying into the air and leaving a sizable crater behind.

Gardner chuckled as he folded his arms across his chest. "Very nice, Phoenix. I should hope not to get on your short-tempered side in the future."

Zeraion ignored the jab. "Thanks." He cracked his knuckles, a series of pops rippling across the smoking ground. "I haven't done that in quite a while…" Slowly, he took a deep breath. "But at least I haven't gotten my arm to explode."

"I see." Gardner looked thoughtful for a moment before he shook his head, as though someone had splashed ice water over him. "In any case, I think it would be best to devote much of the day to practicing your third releases. In the likely event that you face off directly against Gault, I would prefer that you not collapse of exhaustion after only two minutes."

"I…" Whatever statement Zeraion was about to say evaporated in a sudden hiss of breath. Gardner raised an eyebrow, but said nothing except "Puppet." as a new wave of targets adorned the blackened land.

Zeraion grit his teeth as he faced off against the targets, each one mentally adorned with the ugly head of a Taurospear or a Balrog.

Each one a step in the fight against Gault.

Each one a step closer to Grace.

"Inferno Strafe!"

* * *

Five hours and what seemed like several gallons of water from the waterfall to keep himself from collapsing of mana exhaustion, Zeraion lowered the handle of the Abyssal Arund for the last time as Gardner pronounced himself satisfied at last. "Very good, Zeraion. You have certainly improved since I saw you last."

"Which was yesterday." Zeraion muttered under his breath, eliciting a good-natured chuckle from the bowmaster.

"I hope you are in the mood for lunch." Gardner turned, his ponytail swishing neatly in the wind. "There is only so far you can subside upon the waterfall's bounty." He turned on his heel and walked towards the small house that they inhabited for the time being.

Zeraion made a soft grunt of protest as Gardner left. Strange as it might seem, the vigorous exercise he'd underwent had actually diminished his appetite as opposed to making it bigger. He wrung his hair out at the bank of the tide pool, droplets of sweat being absorbed by the thirsty ground, before he ventured inside.

Listlessly, the ranger stumbled inside the dwelling and threw himself onto his bed, the springs underneath creaking in protest as his weight pressed upon them. Gardner took a moment to eye him before he turned back to his current work, which was cutting up a leafy-looking root in a thin batonette. "You seem exhausted."

Zeraion resisted the urge to talk back and replied with a demure "I am."

"Hm." Gardner chuckled as though he knew what his student would rather have said instead. "Well, all I can say is that you've got to build up your stamina. I suggest you run a few more laps when your stomach calms itself down." He dumped the julienned vegetables into a stew pot and added a dash of what looked like paprika. "Do you like black salt, Zeraion?"

"Not particularly." Zeraion bit his tongue.

Gardner shrugged before unscrewing a small container to his right and sprinkling some dark-colored grains in anyway. "Well, it doesn't matter. It's an acquired taste. Anyway, it should help with your metabolism."

Zeraion groaned and yanked his pillow over his head. Behind him, Gardner ignited the stove with a whisper of "Inferno." before returning to his own bed. "So, Zeraion," he said, as he calmly eyed his student, "we have about an hour before lunch." Under the pillow, Zeraion could feel Gardner's cobalt-blue eyes boring into the back of his head. "Is there anything you need to talk about?"

Zeraion's blood missed a beat in his veins. _Does he know about- _He flung the pillow aside and shook his head. "No."

"I see." Gardner looked unconvinced, but he was polite enough not to breach the subject. As Zeraion watched listlessly, Gardner stood up and walked to the bookshelf, pushing aside a thick volume of bow techniques to reveal a hidden niche in the wall. As Zeraion's interest perked up, Gardner unearthed something from underneath his hauberk.

It was a glistening, golden chain; as Zeraion watched in amazement, he could see that there was a key attached to it, inlaid with a single pearl. He watched with bated breath as the bowmaster neatly inserted the key into the hidden lock, an audible click resounding through the room as a hidden door unlatched itself.

Zeraion could barely contain his excitement as he watched Gardner reach inside and take something out. Could it be a special bow, a secret technique, a magic scroll, or something else of that sort?

The object in the bowmaster's hands finally revealed itself as light struck it, and Zeraion gaped as the light reflected off it. It was a flat, ornate box the size of a small drawer, gently inlaid with jade stones and gold trimmings. A series of marble squares scored its top surface, the lines accented with dark stone. Something rattled inside as Gardner gently set it on the table between them, and Zeraion's heart leapt in his throat. What on Bera could be inside?

Gardner touched the surface of the box gently and ran his gloved fingers across it, quietly blowing away years of accumulated dust. He then calmly cracked his knuckles and unlocked the side of the box, pulling out a hidden drawer and taking out a small object.

Zeraion nearly fell off the bed trying to see into Gardner's hand. "What is it?"

The bowmaster calmly set the object onto the board. "Care for a game of chess?"

* * *

The set was garish, yet subtle in its own way. Bright emerald shades of jade and radiant gold inlaying the set clashed with the inconspicuous squares of black and white marble crisscrossing the surface of the box.

Zeraion chooses white, leaving Gardner with black. He takes his pieces and scrutinizes them sharply- no craftsman, he is sure, could ever equal this level of subtle skill that had been put into the making of this masterpiece.

He hears an impatient noise above him and realizes with startled dismay that Gardner has already assembled his charcoal-black pieces upon his side of the board. He feels a restrained amazement in seeing the bowmaster's flawless arrangement- every neat figurine is situated at the exact center of the square it occupies, sixteen squares of deliberate microcosmic perfection staring directly at him.

He swallows, and begins to allay his own pieces upon the board.

Once he starts, it isn't quite so hard. Queen after rook after bishop after knight, each taking their designated area upon the battlefield and waiting patiently for their master to move. In a way, it is a bleak yet true reminder of the world he is trapped in, the grim knowledge that before the war ends, some will survive, and some will die.

"I didn't know you played chess." he says, to break the silence. The opposing king stares back at him with calm, imposing eyes of steel, refusing to break even the slightest bit of emotion.

"Well, I started doing so at the age of six." Gardner exhaled and calmly lay back in his chair, surveying his neatly-aligned force with a satisfied air. "I find that it is an excellent means of improving one's reasoning and tactical abilities between battles. Not to mention…" His eyes seemed to flicker like a candle before he relaxed once more. "It reveals much about my opponent that I would not have realized otherwise."

Zeraion steels himself against this remark. Gardner may be a bowmaster, a man with at least twenty more years of experience than he, a man who could destroy forests and level cities with a mere flick of the wrist, but he is still- after all, only human.

He refuses to pay him the compliment of showing fear, even if he can't truly decimate the feeling inside.

As black, Gardner defers the first move to his student. Zeraion eyes the board before taking the most orthodox position he can- king's pawn to E4. Gardner makes nary a move as he contemplates the board, eyeing it as though it were some sort of uninteresting textbook as opposed to a heated battle of wills.

The bowmaster makes his move- king's knight to G6. Zeraion recoils from the man's sharp, calculating glance, almost as if he knows he's lost the game already. He clears his throat and his head and forces himself to think straight.

He moves the queen's pawn up a square to D3, guarding its fellow soldier with a simple diagonal movement to the right. He grins inwardly in this small victory and waits to see what his adversary will do.

Gardner shakes his head and deploys his other knight.

-----

The game continues on, Gardner methodically playing his pieces along the board, attaching no more intrinsic value to them than simple stone figurines.

Zeraion is different. He is the pieces' master- with a simple movement of his wrist, it is he who will decree whether they shall live or die another turn. The newfound sensation of power surprises him slightly, and he isn't sure whether he likes the feeling or not.

In a way, as he stares down at the cold stone board, another metaphor lies in wait for him. He is the _one, _the one who has mastered Final Attack and is (at least according to Athena) the world's only means of salvation from the madness only known as Gault Isentryx. The pieces below him are his tethers, his only means of keeping upon tangible ground with the real world.

In his mind, he likens his older brother Ark to the rook, so strong and calm even in the worst of situations, refusing to be intimidated in the face of danger. The curved blade of his brother's axe is almost visible as he castles, exchanging squares with the rook and the king.

He wonders what he wouldn't give to switch places with Ark right now and hide himself in the world of Victoria Island. Perilous, but at least he can know that he still exists upon the earth.

Gardner does not give him that luxury as he employs a gambit, deploying his queen's knight's pawn two squares forward, putting it in the way of his hungry knight.

He takes the bait, his wrist pushing forward in a familiar L-shaped trail as the marble soldier is suddenly off the board with nary a squeal.

Yet another shake of the head, and Gardner deploys his bishop out in a slanted line of death. Zeraion winces as the imposing figure gobbles up his pawns one after the other, like oyster crackers in the hands of a hungry child.

"Interesting." Gardner pauses briefly after adding Zeraion's king's rook's pawn to the pile of refuse that is slowly growing on the side of the board. "Your style of play is quite unlike anything I've ever seen."

"You mean it sucks." Zeraion replies bluntly, comparing the two pawns Gardner had sacrificed to the four he had currently lost.

"Not exactly." Gardner rubs his chin thoughtfully as he contemplates the board. "You are ambitious yet conservative to an extreme. It is quite interesting, really. You will take every means necessary to protect even the lowliest of your pieces, but you will lash out with every ounce of your force to take one of your opponent's." He studies the board some more as he waits for his student to make a move. "It is a common and endearing trait amongst many people- but in chess, as in real life, it causes many to fail in their tasks."

"Are you saying that I shouldn't protect those that I care about?" Zeraion retorted, deploying Ark to an arbitrary square as he prepared his attack.

"Of course not." Gardner eyes the board and makes his move, laying another pawn in the line of the rook's fire. "But it is very important- vital, even- that you make the distinction between a simple duty to your fellow man and a mutual affection between those that you love- or think you love."

Choosing to ignore the bowmaster's words, Zeraion scans the board with his eyes and sees no immediate threat, even after checking and double-checking almost every permutation of Gardner's possible maneuvers in his mind.

He makes his move, and the axe takes its next victim as the third of Gardner's pawns lies in the shallow grave of the elegant box's drawer.

"Case in point, Phoenix." Gardner resumed his business-like tone as he eyed the board. "I will not say that you have no foresight, because you do. It was apparent when you examined the current situation closely for any possible threats."

He maneuvers the knight to an innocuous location near Zeraion's side of the board. "What I did not fail to notice, however, is your penchant for slightly misjudging what is a serious threat and what is not." The bowmaster relinquishes his grip on the piece and lets it wobble on its square for a second before it falls into place. "Check."

Zeraion scowls and swears under his breath, pushing his king aside one square.

Without another word, Gardner's wrist delivers its next verdict, and Ark has suddenly fallen to the side of the board.

"Beware, Zeraion." Gardner picks up the white rook and calmly buries it in its grave of jade and gold within the box. "Sometimes, when you want to protect someone, you may end up inadvertently putting them in even more danger, no matter how good your own intentions are."

Zeraion dully lays his hand upon the curved pommel of his bishop and sends it to a central square, its ridged edge glinting in the dim light. Needless to say, it reminds him of Ascion, determined and resourceful, yet still slightly fragile.

There is no immediate or secondary danger aligned in the bowmaster's pieces, and Gardner bides his time with a laissez-faire movement of his queen.

At least, that's what it looks like to him- he cannot tell whether Gardner is truly bored or whether he is meticulously planning his adversary's downfall. It is impossible to detect any measure of emotion or feeling in Rathias Gardner's eyes, no matter how much one tries. The bowmaster is an absolute expert at concealing his emotions, showing his friends and enemies alike only the cards he wants them to see.

He's been getting quite used to that lately.

-----

The black queen moves, its marble hem scraping against the jaded floor of the slightly thinned battlefield.

"You do realize, of course, that time is not a luxury we are allowed." Gardner says, lifting his hand off the crown of his monarch with the grace of a dancer. "At any moment, Isentryx could choose to unleash the full measure of his power upon Elaesia."

"I wonder why he hasn't done so already." Zeraion replies, half-awake as he toys with one of his few surviving pawns, pushing it up a square in the vain hope that it will rise as a fearsome warrior once more. "He may be insane, but he's not stupid. It would have been a lot more efficient to just blow us all to kingdom come."

The black queen moves once more, her silent steps etching imminent doom in Zeraion's mind.

"Perhaps," Gardner says, unblinkingly, as his queen gently slides upon an ivory-carved square near the edge of the board, "it may be that he is toying with you."

Zeraion can only watch as the world falls out of his patient grasp.

"Why would he do that?" he wonders out loud, as Ascion wanders nearer to the center of the grid with a motion of his arm.

"He would have many motives." Gardner replies calmly, nudging a pawn forward to threaten the existence of Zeraion's bishop. "He could be trying to achieve a false sense of security. He could be using the time to assess the current situation. But perhaps…" The man's gaze did not waver. "I suspect it is because he simply does not want to do so."

"What the hell would motivate him to do that?" Zeraion orders his bishop to retreat a few spaces, and it meekly obeys. "He doesn't have any incentive to do so. We're definitely not doing him any favors."

"There may be ulterior reasons." Gardner replies, in a cryptic tone. "In any case, it would take more than a good psychologist to get into Gault's mind, and I won't care to venture there."

The queen moves once more, its silent gaze cutting into Zeraion's eyes, and he looks up to see that the bishop is now neatly pinned in a vertical line to his king.

Zeraion sighs deeply, raking a hand across his hair; he is surprised to find sweat on his brow. "You're good at this." he mutters, more an admission of inevitable defeat than a means of friendly conversation.

"Well, I've had time to practice." Gardner replies shortly, moving his knight aside in preparation for a future tactic. "Strategy is a vital part of life, Zeraion. A simple board game can serve you well in many situations."

"Whatever." Zeraion carefully eyes the board and chooses his next move; a direct deployment of his unpinned bishop in a well-placed assault, pinning Gardner's rook directly to his queen. He feels a microcosmic triumph inside of himself after doing so, knowing at least he's got one small edge over his opponent.

Gardner makes his trademark half-amused, half-slightly impressed smile and thoughtfully scans the board. "Well done, Zeraion." he says, a touch of genuine praise buried underneath the teasing sarcasm. "I see, at the very least, you've been able to utilize some tactics in this duel."

His cobalt gaze does not falter as he glances directly at his student, unnerving him. "However, sometimes even the best-laid plans of mice and men…"

The black rook lashes out in a sudden assault to Zeraion's side of the board, an unseen assault in the impassive repertoire of the bowmaster.

"…go awry. Check."

Zeraion yanks at a clump of his hair and grudgingly shifts his king one space upwards, out of danger.

With an undignified motion of Gardner's wrist, the queen takes her now-exposed prey, and Ascion is unceremoniously removed from the board. The ranger's stomach twitches uncomfortably as he remembers the bowmaster's early comment.

_Sometimes, when you want to protect someone, you may end up inadvertently putting them in even more danger, no matter how good your own intentions are.  
_

Zeraion exhales softly as he scans his own side of the board. Five of his pawns have gone, dead, eaten up by the ruthless, gaping maws of the monsters that are Rathias Gardner's pieces. His rooks and one of his bishops- somehow, in the ensuing scuffle- are dead, buried. A knight has fallen as well, its equestrian head poking out from the side of the board.

The only real piece he has left is his queen, her ivory crown seeming to cast a glow over the rest of the board, as though echoing her power.

He doesn't need to think twice to know who _she _reminds him of.

-----

Some arbitrary number of moves later- he is not sure whether it be fifteen or fifty- the last errant pieces of his have fallen. All that is left is a small barrier of his last three remaining pawns, his king, and his queen.

A highly dangerous position, and even he knows that.

Gardner studies the board calmly before saying, "Now, this is interesting."

"What is? The fact that I'm losing?" Zeraion cannot help himself from saying.

Not surprisingly, Gardner chuckles at the comment. "No, Zeraion. The opening and the middle game of a round of chess, I will admit, are very scintillating indeed…but what I find most interesting is the endgame." The corners of his lips rise up dangerously. "It gives me a chance to see how well people behave in tight situations."

"Hm." Zeraion merely shrugs and scans the board one more time. Through the thicket of black that decorates the board, only five of his own figures remain. The whole spectacle is like a puzzle, an incredibly complicated puzzle that convolutes itself more with each second he stares at it.

Somehow, he musters the courage to bring his queen upwards in a diagonal motion. "Check."

"Hm." Gardner raises an eyebrow for a fraction of a second, although Zeraion doesn't see it. "Very interesting maneuver, Phoenix."

The tone with which the word 'interesting' is spoken does not soothe Zeraion's nerves at all. Gardner makes an innocuous movement of his king, one square to the right. "Your move."

He moves the queen once more, her silent eyes of death seeking a way through the tangled threat of Gardner's pieces. "Check."

Again the eyebrows raise, and again the black king moves.

It is a pattern that continues on for several moves, Gardner not showing the faintest trace of boredom or exasperation as he patiently moves the king to one square after the other. Zeraion's interest both wanes and rises at the same time as he waits for the other shoe to drop.

Finally, it does.

After what seems like the twentieth check in a row, he expects the black king to move out of the way, into a small alcove composed of pawns and a knight.

From there, a single move it all it takes to checkmate.

Gardner deals with the threat by moving his own queen to intercept the attacking piece and his king. Zeraion smirks as he readies his hand for an easy kill- only to realize he can't do so. The black rook is guarding the queen, and if he captures her now, it would be suicide.

It gets worse. His king is barricaded safely behind his unbroken bastion of three pawns- but all that has come to nothing as he realizes his only defense has been turned against him. A simple move of the bowmaster's rook, and he is trapped behind the very walls he seeks to protect himself with.

He glances about for an escape route and sees there is none. Like a toy in a child's hands, he has been maneuvered, tricked into making all the moves for his opponent, until there was simply no means of salvation.

"Now, Zeraion." Gardner's voice sounds final, like an executioner. "With one move, you can save yourself. With another, you will fall."

The bowmaster settles back in his chair to watch the show. "The question is not if you can find it…but if you will make it."

Considering the bowmaster's enigmatic words, Zeraion looks down at the board and sees his ray of light. If he can move aside one of the pawns that currently barricades him, an escape route will be opened- an escape route to help him stave off the end for a few more turns.

But if he does so, the white queen will be left to be destroyed.

It all comes down to nothing more than a battle of wills, as he struggles between the one he _should _save and the one he _wants _to save.

There is only one choice, and he does not hesitate.

He silently maneuvers Grace away from the hungry eyes of the black queen, and Gardner's rook sweeps down in a final motion, his cobalt eyes unblinking as they deliver their final verdict.

"Checkmate."

* * *

Thousands of miles away, the city of Perion awoke to the rays of the morning sun as it illuminated the great stone peaks that the warrior city was famous for.

Being situated farther north than Henesys, Perion experienced daybreak a little later than the rest of Victoria Island, so it was no surprise that the town was awakening just as the territory of Elaesia was already up and running. In fact, many officers did their best to get deployed to Perion simply for this reason.

"Nngh." Lieutenant Colonel Niland Zera yawned forcibly as he rose from his cot at Perion headquarters, his mouth tasting as though he'd kept his foot in it overnight. He splashed icy water into his face and rinsed his mouth before getting dressed, his crisp blue uniform replacing his white dressing gown. The rays of the Perion sun seeped through the window as he shouldered his crimson-colored sword, its thin edge glinting dangerously in the light.

He stepped outside his room and proceeded to walk to the mess hall, its looks being more mess than hall. The noise of hundreds of units sent from Henesys-Elaesia diffused through his ears as he took a seat and sat down, helping himself to breakfast that looked like it had been improperly stored. "What's on the menu for today?"

"Oh, just eggs, toast, cereal, bacon-"

"Not to eat, you idiot." Zera put a hand to his forehead as he glared at his colleague. "I meant for training."

"Dunno. A hundred laps, a hundred sit-ups, a hundred push-ups…Whatever floats your boat."

"Same as usual, then."

"Precisely."

As soon as breakfast was over, the weary warrior units headed outside, arranging themselves in neat rows upon the sun-baked lands of Perion. Zera sharply strode outside and situated himself at the head of the large contingent, his raven-black pupils roving over them almost as though he was determined to find something wrong with them.

"Attention." he barked in a level voice, and any muttering that had existed before fell off. "As you very well know, we're not exactly in a state of peace here. We have to be alert- we have to be prepared as possible in case we get sent back to Elaesia, or anywhere else for that matter. And in order to do that…" He jabbed a thumb at the land behind him. "You need to be as physically fit as possible. Go run fifty laps."

There was a groan that rose above the troops, but it rapidly disintegrated into muttering as the sound of footsteps against the ground broke through the air. Sighing, Zera raked a hand across his forehead and stretched his arms out.

"Damn it." he exhaled, dust rising into his face. What Perion gave its inhabitants in sleeping time, it made up for in temperature and landscape. "This is just so screwed up." He unsheathed his red-tinted blade and swung it through the air in a few practice maneuvers, cutting through scores of imaginary enemies.

"Power Strike!" The blade flowed through the air like water as red energy burst along its length, a burst of mana exploding through the air and striking down an invisible foe. He spun through the air, letting the edge of his sword carve its way through the hot air.

"You seem rather excited." The silhouette of his colleague, Lieutenant Colonel Minna Gaedelica, caused him to look up. The sunlight reflected glaringly off her dark-blue jacket, bathing her in a warm glow.

"Hey." Zera raised his sword in greeting. "Yeah, I guess I am…but then again, who wouldn't be, after being deployed to Perion."

"Hm." She raised an eyebrow and her Redemption spear, its blunt edge shining in the sun. "I'm not surprised. You always were the touchy one back when we were in the Perion Guard Academy."

"I was not touchy." he replied flatly, arcing his sword through the air. "Maybe a little sensitive and excited, yes, but not-"

"Oh, stuff it." she replied, her shoulder-length light brown hair dangling about her neck. "Anyway, I thought you might want to head off to the Dangerous Valley to train…"

"Can't." Zera jabbed a thumb at the group of warriors still running across the dusty landscape. "I have to supervise them, as much as I hate dragging their asses around. It almost makes me wish something would happen here."

She sighed. "Don't say that. You know what happened back at Elaesia. My brother-"

He gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know." he said, softly. Wyland Gaedelica had been a chief bandit in the Eta Regiment barracks of Delta Division when the Omega Balrogs had attacked.

The moment of silence was interrupted by a shout from the runners. "We're done!" a white knight panted, rushing to a stop in front of Zera, sending clouds of dust into the air.

"I can see that." The crusader folded his arms. "Well, what are you gawking for? Start your dueling practice. I want you guys to get in a few rounds before lunch."

Immediately, the warriors fell back and divided into groups of two, drawing their weapons as they sparred with each other. The sound of metal crashing against metal rang out over the dry landscape as sparks flew through the air, warriors fighting against each other in order to hone their abilities.

"So." The smile is back upon his face as he twirls his blade through the air. "Want to duel?"

"Why not?" she replies, hefting the watered lance past her shoulders.

He charges first, the crimson-steel katana making its way through the air with the grace of a feather. It aims for her, yet she strikes it away with elegance as the blunt edge of her weapon carves upwards through the air.

It is a beautiful, yet deadly elegance, he thinks, as he draws the sword back in preparation for an attack. "Slash Blast!" A ribbon of red follows the trail of his sword as it dips forward. She sees its point hang dangerously in front of her before it lashes up, nearly catching her in an uppercut. She sidesteps, the point of the sword missing her face, and twirls her weapon as if it is a baton. "Dragon Fury!"

The handle of the spear abruptly jerks backwards in a counterclockwise motion and smashes into his plated chest. There is no pain, but he staggers as the wind is knocked out of him, and he looks up to see her leering above him.

"Is that all?" she winks, drawing the handle of her weapon backwards.

He half-scowls, half-smiles, and lets out a battle roar as he lunges forward, a series of slashes rippling through the air as she continuously dips and dodges the edge of the red-tinted blade. Each move is more a mental strike than a physical one, another tactic in their contest of wills as opponents.

The mere fact that she is toying with him is more than he can bear, and he lashes out once more, his arm cracking as the point of the blade strains to make contact with her.

It never connects. She strikes him aside and leaves him to reel on the ground, as his sword lies forgotten a foot away.

"Thank you for the duel, Niland." she says, her voice soft and silky on the last two syllables, as he pretends not to hear.

The sudden, piercing noise of a loud shriek cuts through their thoughts, as well as everybody else's. He is the first to speak, shouting, "What the _hell _is that?!"

"The air raid siren!" She holsters her lance and takes immediate control of the situation. "Everybody, get to your positions! There's been a breach in the boundary field!" The warriors spring to action, heeding her call as they turn their weapons away from each other and face forward, in preparation for the deadly danger that is about to face them.

"Get ready, everybody." she hisses in a low voice, holding her Redemption at her side, as more soldiers and officers rush to their side, having heard the siren's shriek as well as they.

They barely have time to blink before a dark cloud rushes over the sky, blanketing the early morning in its wake. It is eerie more than anything to see dark in place of light, night in place of day, and it is only a harsh reminder of the world of war that they are trapped in.

"Any supports?" she whispers to a taller, stark-looking captain nearby, his axe drawn.

"We have some reinforcement magicians from Ellinia, but nothing else at the moment." he replied, tight-lipped.

"Damn." The four-letter word is a bit of a shock to all of them, but a welcome one. It is their anchor to reality for a moment, before the world falls out of their fragile grasp.

The Crimson Balrogs arrive first, their blackened wings unfurling over the sky as they swarm forward, death in their eyes as their deadly claws are raised. Zera shouts an order, and a stream of fiery arrows, icy bolts, and shining beams fly upward to intercept the invaders. They are hit but not severely impacted, and they retaliate by raising their claws as dark spheres of black magic coalesce in their grips.

The gates of hell break loose as the Balrogs launch their first assault, bolts of dark lightning spiraling downwards upon their unfortunate targets below. Explosions rock the dusty landscape of Perion as bodies are thrown into the air. Zera rolls out of the way, shrapnel and smoke streaking his leg, and staggers to his feet.

It is now or never, and they must fight now or forever hold their peace upon the lands of their home.

With an almighty roar, Zera charges forward as the Crimson Balrogs land to take their enemies on foot. The nearest Balrog raises its claw to cast another dark arte at him, but he does not give it the luxury of doing so, stabbing forward in a desperate lunge. Its eyes widen and it howls before its body goes limp, blood streaking the sands.

The magicians are on their feet, many of them staying on the sidelines to cast support artes or to fling their arcane projectiles at the monsters from afar. A cleric casts Bless, enveloping several of his allies in a sheen of holy magic; a fire mage unleashes an explosion upon a Balrog just seconds away from her face. None of them can tell anyone from the other any more; the fight has gone from two great entities fighting against each other to hundreds of hundreds of microcosmic wars being waged upon the ground below.

Zera is unaware of all this as he fights on, every slash a desperate bid to survive. He knows if the invaders are here, then they could very well reach the other cities if they fall- and that must not happen. The great demon in front of him draws back its claws, but he grips ahold of his blade with two hands and slashes it open, as the noise of internal organs suddenly becoming external is heard. He kicks aside its still-twitching corpse and solders on, not knowing and not caring whether his comrades or his enemies are being slaughtered behind him.

He charges to the side and stabs forward, another demon losing its life to the foot of red-tinted steel that he wields in his hand. Too late, he hears a roar and shouts, "Power Guard!" as the noise of razor-sharp claws knifing the air is heard. The demon's lethal nails smash into his guard, throwing him backwards. There is blood streaking his cuirass, but he is alive- and that is all that matters as he throws himself forward with a savage war-cry, metal ripping through metal with a horrible jarring sound.

The sound of footsteps, much like a stampede, reach his ears as he decapitates another Taurospear with a flick of his wrist. He stares into the horizon, expecting it to be a group of stampeding drakes angered by the demons, but it is worse.

Much worse.

Lightning explodes in his ears as a storm of Taurospears surges forward, and he spits on the ground in desperation. _Of course. Where there's Balrogs, there's Tauros. _The beasts of war, clad in dark-plated armor, charge across the plateau with shocking efficiency. Screams can be heard as the Tauros spearhead themselves through the warriors' defense, lightning bursting in lethal flashes through the landscape as dark blood stains the dry sands below them.

Zera grinds his teeth as the sound of his subordinates being slaughtered reaches his ears. This is war, plain and simple, and he cannot afford to turn back now. Keeping formation is paramount to their survival as a whole, and he must remember that as a commanding officer.

He brings the blade of his crimson katana over his head and forces it downwards, cleaving the unfortunate head of a Taurospear in half with a critical slash. The beasts' attention is temporarily diverted towards him, and he prepares himself as they lunge. Crystal flashes in his eyes as death misses him by an inch, lightning streaking past his cheek. He raises the sword and charges. "Shout!"

The wave of energy that emanates from his weapon is enough to throw both monsters backwards with a sonic boom, and he charges forward, catching them in a spiral slash that rips their armor apart and sends them lifelessly to the ground. Yet even as he rakes them aside, more spring up to take their place- they may have the advantage of ability, but the enemies have the advantage of numbers.

A flick of his wrist, a shout of "Combo Attack! Panic!" and three of the demons are suddenly down on their sides in growing pools of blood. He wrenches aside his attention to a larger group of demons and he can see Minna, fighting for her life as the angry demons surround her with lightning-poised lances.

"Dragon Fury!" she bellows, wrenching the head of her lance through the air, and the Taurospears are sent crashing backwards to the ground. Another attempts to strike her down from behind; she twirls about with the agility of a dancer and lunges forward with the blunt weapon, jamming the whole thing through it so it protrudes out the demon's back. It lurches backwards without further ado as she draws the bloody lance back.

"Minna!" he shouts, his voice hoarse from the acrid, iron taste of blood and smoke. She turns and seems somewhat surprised to see him, as if she hasn't laid eyes on another human her life. "What is it- Niland?" she coughs. There's a wound in her side.

"I…" He wants to say something else, but the situation won't allow him, so he goes with standard procedure. "What's our troop status?"

She shakes her head, a bit of emotion peeking through the battle-hardened visage that her face has become. "Not good. We've lost a good portion of our advance forces and our magician corps are starting to take a pounding. We won't be able to last another half hour if their troops keep swarming in at the rate they are now."

"I see." He nods, his own face streaked with viscera from his previous skirmishes. "You'll be all right, won't you?"

"I'll live." she says, brushing aside a few strands of scorched hair. "But if we don't get reinforcements, this place won't hold up much longer."

"Battle on." he nods, before she is lost in a swarm of demons. Catching his own bearings, he twirls himself about in a deadly pirouette, his blade held aloft. The point of the sword neatly rips through the armor like paper, his technique forcing the wind pressure along his sword with deadly accuracy. All it takes is a series of quick stabs to dispatch the enemies in front of him. As they crumple, he and the few senior officers and their troops that are left are forced to take up the banner of justice.

He staves off exhaustion with a nondescript pill of concentrated blue, its hard surface sliding uncomfortably down his throat. Strength returns briefly to him as he fiercely deals a backhand slash to a Tauromacis that has been creeping behind him in wait. The edge of his sword never tires of blood as it crushes through its unfortunate victim.

It is the sword's master that is different. Weapons are weapons; it matters not whether a child or a man is holding one. A hardened edge of steel has no more emotion than a corpse- it does only what its wielder tells, nothing more.

He forces himself to remember this as the crystalline edge of a demon lance hurtles towards him, its point coming up incredibly fast. A quick motion of his wrist, and the spear is repulsed enough to allow him a swift kick in the chest, which is immediately followed by the final blow. They fold into one another until he cannot tell how many demons have lost their life to him, or how many untold liters or gallons of blood he has spilled over the plains of Perion.

If any honor exists in fighting, he tells himself as his blade takes another enemy and the shouts of his fallen comrades echo over the landscape, it's to keep others from harm.

A savage cry from above brings him to his senses, and he looks up to see exactly the thing he doesn't want to see at this point- more Balrogs, swelling the already-immense ranks of demons as they band together for their next assault.

"Shit." The word escapes his lips before he can take it back, but it doesn't matter- there is no one left to hear. He casts a quick glance about him, but there is nothing except the scarred, bloody plains of what has once been his home.

They _must _send for reinforcements now, or else they are all done for, and all their suffering, all their loss of life, will have been for naught.

He staggers through the dark plains- how ironic is it, he suddenly realizes, that even though it is morning, the sky is black- in search of someone, and he must wade through what seems like endless waves of death and destruction before he reaches who he is looking for.

Minna is still fighting valiantly, her spear flying through the air and dismembering any foe that dares come near to her. That includes Zera, but she is wise enough to come to her senses after he blocks the attack.

"What is it?" she asks hoarsely, seeing the urgency on his face.

"We need reinforcements. Now." Every syllable seems like its own sentence as the words tumble from his mouth.

"Do you think I don't know that?!" There is the sound of armor breaking as she gives a backwards thrust to a Tauromacis behind her, its figure crumpling to the ground. "They're outnumbering us ten to one, Niland. I can't even turn my back to one without facing another."

"We need a scout. A sentry, a spy. Something to get the message back to Elaesia." His lungs feel like they're on fire. "Maybe-"

"No. Not Elaesia." Her voice is unintentionally harsh, her throat sore from inhaling blackened smoke. "It's much too far away. We need a closer center."

"Ellinia." he says automatically, his mind working in overdrive as the bloody smoke curls about him. "That's not too far away, is it?"

"It doesn't matter." she exhales, her voice becoming suddenly hopeless. "There is no one left, Niland. Everyone's either dead or wounded. We don't have any hope."

"You can't say that." he whispers, more to reassure himself than her. "There has to be _someone. _Maybe someone from the magician corps-"

"The Balrogs broke our defensive line, Niland." she says, desperation in her voice. At least, he doesn't know whether it's desperation or insanity. "There's nothing left. The city will be destroyed in half an hour-"

"It can't." he whispers softly, his voice rising into the air like a wisp of smoke.

"It is."

"It isn't." he replies, seizing ahold of her hands. "Listen to me, Minna. We'll get out of this. We'll get to Ellinia, and we'll warn them. And we will win this battle. Do you hear me?"

There is no answer, her eyes staring blankly into his, and her hands feel cold and lifeless as he touches them. It's as if along with hope, she has given up life itself.

He lets go of her hands, and she tumbles wordlessly to the ground, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud. The hulking figure of a Taurospear is behind her, its lance drenched in fresh blood.

"No!" The word is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he lunges forward, the grotesque sound of metal ripping and bones crushing filling the air as his katana falls back in a shower of red.

He stares at her one last time in disbelief before sheathing his sword and running off to the east, where the lush forests of Ellinia lay. There could be nothing more to do for them, but at least he had to spread the warning. He had to do something.

"I promise I'll see you again." he whispers to her one last time as he runs, his greaves echoing across the landscape, his head bowed towards the ground as tears run from his eyes.

And then, suddenly, the tears become red.

He gazes up in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and desperation, and finds himself staring into the eyes of a great Balrog, its great claws of cruel steel piercing through his body and breaking through his armor on the other side. The creature's grin is cruel and heartless, and he does not even have the strength to draw his sword as he gazes into it.

It is the face of evil, and he has fallen to it at last in the great game known as war.

The Balrog utters a soft incantation with its voice, and as a meteor is ripped from the eternal depths of the abyss and hurtles, he closes his eyes and waits to see her.

The ground explodes in a brilliant burst of light and flame, as chunks of blackened earth are hurled through the air, leaving a sizable crater below. Growling, the Balrog licks its claws clean and steps over the carnage, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake as it follows its comrades, all of them occupying the same single-minded purpose in their minds.

The once-proud city of Perion had fallen at last.

* * *

He took the quill and calmly scribbled a line onto the parchment below him, oblivious for a moment to the destruction about him.

"Damn." Ascion Blade rubbed off the offending equation with the feathered end of his quill and dipped the writing implement back in its well. "What I wouldn't give for a magic crystal ball right now…"

The quill dipped downward once more, channeling countless bits of arcane knowledge from its master's fingers onto the paper. Ascion studied the writing, shifting his gaze to a heavy textbook splayed open in front of him, then turned back to his work.

At least, that's what he would have done if Iris Gaiden hadn't opened the door of his office and came in at that moment. He barely raised an eyebrow as she entered, but she ignored his apathy- she was far too used to it by now.

"Brigadier General Blade." Her voice carried no frills or distinction, just the clear-cut tone of someone reporting orders. "Athena sent word that she would like to see you."

"Does she?" Ascion replied, not looking up, although he stopped writing. Drops of ink dribbled from the point of his quill onto the desk as silence hung between the two colleagues.

"Yes, she does," Iris replied calmly, "and I doubt you would want to keep her waiting, especially at a time like this."

"Ack, don't remind me." The priest made an expression of mock horror before he rolled up the parchment on his desk and bound it tightly with a quick seal. "I can understand her point of view; it's not like I would want the place to be invaded at any moment, but still…" He exhaled. "Never mind that. I'll go see her." He pocketed his Magicodar and strode out the door.

As Ascion strode down the hallway, he became aware of something following behind him and turned around to see Iris, silently walking alongside of him. "What are you doing?" he asked, rhetorically.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. I have to be there with you." Her expression betrayed not even the least bit of emotion.

"Charming, I wonder why." he replied in a dry voice, not slowing his pace. "I suppose she wants me to build another barracks or something with my bare hands…"

"Well, that depends." Iris allowed a tiny smear of sarcasm to appear in her voice. "Did you finish the gravity arte yet?"

"If by 'finish' you mean about 30 percent done, then yes, I have finished it." he replied, completely seriously.

"Hm." She turned her gaze away from him. "I don't think it has anything to do with construction, anyway. She didn't have that kind of look on her face when she told me to- you know."

"That makes me feel a lot better, I guess." the teenager retorted, raking his sleeve across his forehead. "I suppose she wants us to face a troop of Taurospears by ourselves, then."

"More than likely." she replied, with a straight face.

Before either of them could converse further, however, they were met by an ashen-faced Joseph Stalrigarde near Athena's office door. "Hey."

"Hey." Both magicians acknowledged the alchemist's presence with a nod. "What are you here for?"

"Athena summoned me." he replied coolly. "I assume the same happened to you."

"Yeah." Ascion cast a pensive glance at the wall. "Do you think-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Joe snapped brusquely, opening the door with a slightly forced motion of his wrist.

Strangely enough, Athena was not sitting at her desk filling papers out when they entered, but rather examining her Shinebow as though it was a precious artifact of some sort- which, in fact, it was. She raised an eyebrow and set the weapon down as they approached. "Ah, you're here. I assume you received my message, then?"

"Yes, Athena." Ascion nodded. "Would you be so kind as to ask why you sent for us?"

"Of course, Blade." The bowmistress pushed the Shinebow aside and folded her arms. "I wouldn't have sent for you otherwise-"

"Not yet, anyway." Joe muttered out the corner of his mouth.

Athena raised an eyebrow, but she had enough tact to ignore the comment. "In any case, I've received a spot of good news from Ellinia. The new leader of the research magicians has called to inform me that their team has been able to synthesize a new wide-range gravity arte-"

Both Ascion and Joe swore underneath their breath; Athena raised her eyebrow again, much more sharply this time. "Is something wrong?"

Ascion cleared his throat. "No. Nothing at all."

"Hm." Athena rolled her eyes and continued the conversation. "-and I would like to utilize it as soon as possible, given the less-than-perfect state of Elaesia at the moment." She glanced out the bleak window before turning her attention back to her subjects. "Unfortunately, the units at Ellinia are too busy with their duties to send a courier here- not to mention that there is the risk of the message being intercepted, and I would prefer that a wide-range gravity arte not find its way into the hands of the enemy."

"I see." Iris' voice broke the calm silence. "So you intend for us to be couriers in delivering the gravity arte?"

"Essentially, yes," Athena replied, running her fingers along the grain of her desk, "although if it's not too much trouble, it would be beneficial if you remained there for some time to gather information on the current state of affairs there."

"I see." Ascion kept his face as expressionless as possible. "When do you expect us to leave?"

"Whatever time suits you best, Brigadier General, although it would be prudent to depart within the next 12 hours." she replied.

"All right. Thank you very much." Ascion bowed briefly and left, followed quickly by Joe and Iris.

Once they were out of earshot, the priest pumped his fist through the air. "Thank _heavens."_

"You said it." The alchemist raked a hand through his hair. "I don't feel like rotting here much longer…"

"Hm." Iris remained as pensive as ever. "It's nice to see that you two are happy."

Ascion sighed. "Oh, come on, Iris. Don't tell me you don't want to get the hell away from this boring place. I've been looking forward to some action…"

Iris sighed and stroked the head of her Kage dimly. "Yes, but you heard what she said. There's always the possibility of an ambush…"

"It's nothing we can't handle." Ascion sighed and cracked his knuckles. "Besides, I've been getting pretty bored of working on the gravity arte, and since Ark and Zer have left the place, I could use a bit of action myself."

"Well, in any case…" Joe plucked a Steely knife from the inside of his jacket and spun it idly around his finger. "I agree. A little fresh air never killed anyone." He flicked his wrist into the air and caught the spinning knife in midair, neatly threading his finger through the hole in the handle without so much as a scratch. "I do wonder why she didn't offer any backup troops, though. It would have been nice to not have to do this thing ourselves…"

"Use your common sense." Ascion sighed and neatly stuck his hands in his pockets. "We'd be easier to spot- and therefore more likely to get ambushed- if we trooped around the countryside with a contingent of reinforcements. Besides, I suspect Athena wants to keep as many units here as possible in case of emergency."

"Good point." The hermit chewed lightly on his lower lip. "You think we should leave now?"

Ascion cocked an amused glance at his colleague. "You could, but it would be pretty darn hard to travel to Ellinia on an empty stomach. How about breakfast?"

The alchemist merely looked contemptuous.

* * *

About a couple hundred miles away, Ark Wolfen's stomach growled noisily.

"Is that another ambush, or did you forget to eat?" Ryden quipped, causing Lisande to chuckle.

"Well, excuse me, but it's rather hard to walk twenty-five miles on a couple of flower petals and some really, really, bland oatmeal." the axeman snapped back.

"Obviously, Wolfen needs a better metabolism." Dariel Marron stated calmly, eliciting a chuckle from both swordsmen. "Apparently, his current diet of small animals and helpless children cannot be satisfied with the meager fare that the poor elves have presented him with…"

"Did I mention I like annoying, cheeky Paladins too?" Ark scowled, his hand drifting to the handle of his axe.

"Heh." Marron unsheathed his Heaven's Gate and twirled it experimentally about his fingers as though it were a baton. "Please don't. It would be rather hard for you to eat once I slice your digestive system into two."

"Now, now." Ryden calmly walked along the forest path, his arms folded. "I'd rather see you two get killed by Taurospears than each other, so please try to keep yourselves alive until we get to Elaesia."

"Hmph." Ark and Marron threw derisive glances at each other before sheathing their respective weapons. Ryden sighed before twirling his katana in his palm. "All joking aside, I do think we should be on our guard. The survivors of the earlier battle have probably gone back to tell everyone else that we're here."

Ark raised an eyebrow. "Now that you mention it, that is a highly likely possibility."

Marron calmly brushed a tuft of hair from his eyes. A bit of dried blood streaked the corner of his forehead and he rubbed it off with his index finger. "We aren't in any position to handle another trap seal."

"That's not to say we should completely disregard the possibility." Ryden slashed apart an imaginary enemy before sheathing his sword. "It would probably be best if we fanned ourselves out. That way, if an ambush occurred, the resulting damage would be minimal."

"Yes, but we'd be committing suicide in terms of population density." Ark yanked out a few strands of burned hair. "The Tauros have the advantage of numbers in the forest, and if we spread ourselves out, we'd only increase our chances of getting killed."

"They're both valid points." Lisande calmly strung her bow. "However, I do think it wouldn't be wise to break formation."

"Formation won't save our behinds from getting roasted by a trap seal." Ryden replied smoothly.

Lisande ignored the remark. "Staying close together would be a reasonable thing to do in a five-hundred square mile forest."

Ryden merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Lady Lisande."

"You know…" Ark stretched his arms out and gave a fake yawn. "I think I'll run ahead and check if there are any enemies in front of us."

Marron raised an eyebrow. "Now _that _would be suicide, Wolfen."

"Well, sue me for being cautious." Ark cracked his knuckles.

"Don't bother." The Paladin abruptly drew his sword. "I'll go. If I find anything, I'll be back in two shakes of a Curse Eye tail." He raised his blade and commanded, "Rush!" A sudden burst of energy suffused him as he leapt into the air, alighting on a tall branch and dashing deeper into the forest.

Ryden put a hand to his forehead. "Show-off."

"He just wants to get away from us." Ark muttered, running a hand across his forehead. "But I don't blame him. This is rather tiresome." He glanced upwards, but the sun was invisible through the shield that the forest canopy formed with the sky. "How long have we been walking?"

"Dunno." Ryden shrugged. "Maybe an hour or two."

"Charming." Ark cracked his knuckles again, the joints of his gauntlets creaking slightly as he did so. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually happy to be going back. I've missed Ascion, as much as I want to believe otherwise." He smiled humorlessly.

"Yep. Lucky you." Ryden replied, having nothing more to say.

The three of them lapsed into quiet silence after that.

After some more minutes of walking through the forest, they were interrupted by an urgent rustling in the branches above. Both Ark and Ryden quickly drew their weapons, but it turned out to be nothing more than a certain blond-haired Paladin with a large sword.

"Dariel." Ark glanced the sweaty warrior over. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes, but…" Marron sighed darkly. "There was something else."

"Something else." Ryden sighed. "The two worst words that anyone ever invented to use together." His knuckles tightened upon his sword. "What is it?"

Marron sighed deeply. "There was smoke on the horizon."

"Brushfire?" Ark wondered.

The Paladin shook his head. "No. It wasn't anywhere near the grasslands." His expression darkened. "If you must know, it was discouragingly near the city of Perion."

"What?!" Both warriors stared, open-mouthed and slack-jawed. "How could-"

"I don't know any more than you do," Marron replied, shaking his head solemnly, "but it's apparent that this does not bode well."

"We have to get to Perion _now!" _Ark hissed urgently, his grip on his axe tightening so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Get some sense into yourself." Ryden shook his head. "There's no way for us to fly to Perion, let alone transport hundreds of warriors there instantaneously."

"Be that as it may," the Paladin continued disconsolately, "I'm afraid I have even more bad news. There was a small scout patrol of Tauros a couple hundred meters to the northeast."

"Damn." Ark put a hand to his forehead in desperation. "Any chance of a bivouac?"

"No. At their current rate of speed, they'd hit us right at our tail end." Marron buried the tip of his sword in the dry earth and leaned on it slightly for support. "Our best chance for taking them on is to surround them at their head and trap them."

"Wow, I wonder where you get these plans from, Dariel." Ryden muttered sarcastically, drawing his sword.

"It is a good plan." Lisande offered, (un)helpfully.

"I guess." Ark muttered, noncommittally. "So…did you say they were northwest?"

* * *

"It is a good plan." Ryden muttered in a sing-song voice as he lay in wait behind a large thicket of bushes. "Of course it is, if it comes from the great Paladin Aslan Seles…"

"I'm sure she was just being polite." Ark muttered, tugging at the small pendant underneath his armor. "You ready, Lisande?"

"Yes." the princess nodded, from behind a tree fifty feet away, her bow strung and drawn.

"All right." Ark brushed a few drops of sweat from his forehead before directing his gaze upwards into the trees, where Marron lay in wait, his sword drawn. "What's the status on our enemies?"

"Two hundred feet and approaching." Marron replied intently, his eyes focused on the horizon as he knelt on the narrow branch.

"Hm." Ark polished the edge of his axe between his fingers. "This is so exciting. My very first guerilla battle…"

"Get used to it. You'll be doing a lot of it in the future if we get out of here alive." Ryden calmly adjusted the collar of his cuirass as though he were doing nothing more than attending a social event.

"Hundred feet." Marron called from above, a leaf fluttering down towards Ark's feet.

"Go figure." Ark punched through the air. "The footsteps are getting loud enough to hear anyway."

"Looks like we'll be a little late for lunch, Ark." Ryden teased from behind the bushes.

"Shut up." Ark mumbled as he fiddled with his gloves.

"Fifty feet."

The mutterings of the elves fell silent as Ark, Ryden, and Lisande ducked behind their temporary retreats, weapons in hand. The heavy thuds of Taurospear and Tauromacis armor striking the ground could be audibly heard.

Silently, they waited with bated breath as the leader, a large Jr. Balrog stepped out of the bushes, its claws raking the forest floor. Its eyes furiously glanced about the landscape as the warriors dared not move a muscle.

Another Taurospear emerged from the bushes. "_Any intruders?"_

As Ark, Ryden, Marron, and Lisande held their breath, the Balrog spoke. _"Yes. I can smell their putrid scent."_

"I took a shower this morning, dumbass." Ark muttered, but he kept his voice to himself.

A Tauromacis stepped out, crescent spear in hand. "_Which direction?"_

The Balrog sniffed the air some more before it pointed its gnarled claw at the tree which Ark was hiding behind. _"There."_

_This is it. _Ark silently clutched the handle of his weapon and grit his teeth, his veins throbbing away in every inch of his body.

The Balrog was only a few feet away.

"_Spiral Slash Strike!" _Marron bellowed as he leapt down from the tree, his great sword drawn. The Balrog barely had time to shudder before the Paladin's blade slaked through its body effortlessly, its dismembered halves slumping lifelessly to the forest floor.

"Now!" Ryden roared, and he, Ark, and Lisande charged out of their positions with their weapons raised. "Dragon Fan!"

"Sovereign Gale!"

"Silver Inferno!"

Ryden and Ark swiftly crossed weapons before they spearheaded themselves into the heart of the demonic forces, the former lashing out with innumerable slashes in every direction while the latter sent a series of indomitable wind blades at his opponents. The sound of armor breaking and howls of pain could be heard over the landscape as a silvery-white burst of flame arced from Lisande's bow and struck behind the two warriors, a cloud of white smoke exploding into the air as the arcane arte struck its mark.

The Tauros barely had time to regroup before the main forces of the elves streamed out, the sounds of bowstrings and swords echoing over the landscape as they took their opponents by surprise. Before the startled demons could get their bearings, several of their front ranks had been brought down.

"This is cake!" Ryden grinned in triumph as he lunged forward and caught a surprised demon with a leg sweep. As it toppled to the ground, he quickly stabbed forward and held his blade aloft. "Shout!" The resulting wave of energy caused the stunned beast to be thrown backwards, where it was accidentally impaled by one of its companion's spears.

"Don't strain yourself, Ryden." Ark muttered as he sidestepped a bolt of lightning from an angry demon. "Infliction!" The blade of his axe ripped through the air in a wide half-moon arc as it crushed past a demon's armor, then whipped forward once more to kill another in a well-placed stab. Breathing heavily on adrenaline, Ark charged forward and leaped into the air, bringing the crescent blade of his weapon onto the skull of some unfortunate victim.

"You wish, Ark." Ryden murmured as he ducked a swing of a spear by a Tauromacis and whipped around with lightning speed, his sword ripping a jagged gash in the chestplate of the attacking beast. It toppled wordlessly to the ground as he dodged a narrow burst of lightning from a Taurospear, then ran towards the nearest tree. As it lashed out with its spear, Ryden dodged the burst of lightning and launched himself off the trunk, his sword held in front of him. The point of the blade crushed through the victim's armor like paper, dark fluid seeping from the wound.

"Hmph." Ark shrugged and turned his back on the swordsman, choosing instead to focus on a pair of Tauromacis that were in his sights. As they took notice of him and raised their weapons, he dipped the blade of his weapon close to the ground and brought it upwards in a savage sweep, air pressure concentrating at the edge of the blade. "Tempest Trench!" The resulting arte ripped the ground apart as a miniature tornado sped through the area, catching the demons in its deadly wake and throwing them like rag dolls every which way.

"He seems to be doing well." Marron calmly eyed the axeman out of the corner of his eye before drawing his sword and charging forward with a savage cry, the edge of his sword colliding at full force with the side of his enemy. The demon gave nary a shriek and toppled forward; without pausing, he shouldered his sword and carved a spiral slash through the chest of the next Tauromacis, its mutilated corpse hitting the ground with a thud. Any demon who dared to stand against the Paladin was immediately rent into two or three large hunks of bloody bone and sinew. The edge of the great sword rippled through the air almost as though it were alive, its motions so intricate that it was impossible to follow its path through the air.

After cleaving aside a Taurospear with a downward thrust of his arm, Marron cast a quick eye about him and saw Lisande rapidly stringing her bow at inhuman speeds as she twanged her bowstring ferociously, each shot bringing down one, two, or four demons as they charged at her. One swept its spear towards her head only to be downed as she buried her dagger in its side.

"You seem to be doing well, Princess." he acknowledged with a faint nod as he decapitated a demon with his massive sword.

She paused from her task of stringing her worn bow to eye him with a steely glance. "Please don't refer to me with that title, Seles."

Marron's pupils dilated at the unintentional affront. "Very well then, Lady. I trust you can take care of yourself." He brushed a strand of bloody hair from his eyes before charging forth into a thicket of demons and bellowing, "Blizzard Charge!" A sudden glare of sunlight burst into Lisande's eyes as the frigid burst from the Paladin's arte temporarily illuminated the area.

"Hmph." Lisande's eyes of cold steel followed Marron for a split second before she retrieved her dagger from the body of the fallen Tauromacis and lowered her bow for a moment, facing down the demons in front of her. "Fusaichi Stab!"

The edge of the knife flashed with a brilliant light before it seemingly disappeared through the air, the bodies of two Taurospears falling limply to the ground. She caught her breath as a third demon reached out its arm to grab her; a second later, said arm was now detached from its owner's shoulder as Lisande's dagger flashed through the air once more.

As it thrashed about in pain, she quickly drew an arrow from her quiver, lighter than the wind, and let the shaft fly, where it immediately struck its mark. She brushed a strand of bloodstained raven hair from her eyes as she eyed her prey carefully, before stepping daintily over its corpse.

The warriors eagerly broke through the lines of demons and charged, seizing this momentary advantage to its fullest as lightning flashed and swords roared through the verdant forest. Ark dashed through a thicket of bushes and broke past another defensive line, raising his hand as sparks of lightning glowed as his fingers. "Angel Pyre!"

The arte smashed through the demons like a bowling ball hitting a set of pins, charred corpses scattering everywhere as pillars of holy light burst through the trees and arced through the sky. Smiling humorlessly, Ark neatly lowered his fist and allowed Ryden and Marron to take the line, the two swordsmen's blades flowing flawlessly through the air as the metal brands struck down one demonic victim after another.

Ducking into a nearby bush as a Taurospear sent a burst of lightning hurtling towards him, Ark clenched ahold of the pendant around his neck with his sweaty fingers and brushed sweat and blood from his forehead. _We may have the advantage, but that doesn't mean I should gamble senselessly with my life. _He picked up the haft of his axe and swung it back into the bushes, a bunch of leaves and Taurospear fragments falling to the ground.

The point of a lance suddenly found its way into his face and he looked up to see a gigantic Taurospear, somehow bigger than all the others he'd killed so far, glowering down angrily at him. He gulped, tasting bile, and forced himself to stay calm.

"_You, pitiful human." _it snarled, its eyes not leaving his. "_To think you could hope to stand against the might of Lord Isentryx…"_

"Go…to…hell." Ark snarled back, refusing to back down. "And for heaven's sake, get a breath mint before you kill every living thing in this place."

The lance twitched for a second before it thrust forward, white-hot lightning exploding from its tip, Blindly, Ark threw himself backwards onto the ground as the deadly ray of energy passed just inches over his head. Instinctively, he rolled across the charred ground as the tip of the lance buried itself in the ground where his head had been seconds ago.

Foregoing his axe for the moment, Ark charged forward and lashed out in a spin kick aimed directly at the beast's chest. The attack connected with a loud impact as sparks flew through the air; gritting his teeth, Ark lashed out with his other leg as he planted his palms upon the ground, inflicting an explosive kick across its abdomen. For a brief moment, it staggered backwards, and he seized his chance.

"Shout!" he roared, a sudden pulse of energy exploding through the air as he focused his primal rage into the attack. The magic connected with the strength of a hammer blow as the Taurospear was thrown back, tottering uneasily on its feet. Quickly, he drew his axe and clenched the fingers of his left hand, glowing with energy, as the blade of the weapon thrust forward in his right. "Impact Hammer!"

The blade exploded with the force of a small bomb as it made contact, the power of the strike arte overwhelming the Taurospear and causing it to crumple as armor and bone alike folded in the face of pure strength. Exhaling as he grit his teeth, feeling something crack inside his mouth, Ark shouldered his axe and soldered on, his silhouette illuminated by the flames leaping from the treetops.

Suddenly, there was a shriek coming from the west, and Ark nearly dropped his axe as he recognized it as Lisande's.

Of course, it could have been just a trick of his imagination, but then again, how many Taurospears or elves had the vocal chords necessary to emit such a high-pitched squeal?

He shot forward across the scorched ground, his footsteps echoing seemingly endlessly in his mind, guided only by the single scream that echoed in his mind from seconds ago. There could be any number of dangers creeping up upon him at this moment, but he honestly didn't care.

To hell with reality, he thinks, as a Taurospear who happened to be in his way was crushed aside with a swift slash of his axe. I'll be damned if I let her stay in this Taurospear-infested forest. The quiet _shink _of the blood-plated axe as it wipes out one life after another is now second nature to him, as all that is not Lisande is pushed from his mind.

The source of the screaming is finally realized as he crushes through a thicket of thorns, errant scratches decorating his cheeks. Lisande is pinned neatly against a tree, surrounded by a group of Taurospears, as they debate on what to do with her. It is almost like a cruel fairy tale, the princess trapped and the hero just feet away, but the main difference here is that he doesn't have the luxury of a fairy queen's enchantment or a legendary sword. All he has is his own bloodstained axe and his own judgment.

An arcane arte is considered briefly before being rejected. After all, he isn't a mage, and there are only so many Angel Pyres one can cast before one's mana is exhausted, and he'll need more than a handful to take out the enemies that currently decorate the landscape.

He can charge into their midst and hope for the best, but then again there is a large gap between sundering aside one's enemy with a blow of the axe and confronting a large group of bloodthirsty monsters; he'll need either insanely good reflexes or insanely dumb luck for that.

Then again, as he reflects on the situation and the circumstances, he really doesn't have much choice in the matter.

A compromise, he tells himself, as all the moisture leaves his body in the form of perspiration and leaves his mouth feeling as dry as the desert. I'll work out a compromise and somehow, it will all work out for the better.

That's the thing about compromises, Ark suddenly realizes; they all work in theory.

What's more interesting is what happens to them in practice.

There isn't any time left for hesitation now. He wrenches aside the bushes that divide him from over a dozen bloodthirsty beasts and charges. "Angel Pyre!"

Magic flows through the axeman's veins as he makes his command, sparks gathering at his fingertips as light erupts from the blackened ground, neatly skewering a handful of the beasts where they stand. It isn't one of his strong points, but it gets the job done.

Lisande's eyes flicker wildly to where he stands, amazement and shock unveiled in her expression. Before she can react further, however, Ark springs into action, ignoring the massive aching that is going on in his limbs. "Sovereign Gale!"

The edge of the axe cuts the air precisely, the pressure reforming itself into lethal blades of wind as they fly off the metal blade. Two more demons fall to the ground, rent into unpleasant ribbons of armor and flesh, but he now has his own welfare to worry about.

At least three or four spears are suddenly flying towards him, each with the power to more than render him into bloody bits several times over. He swings the axe upwards and commands "Power Guard!", praying that the defensive arte will work.

It does, but only to the extent where the impact throws him into the air as opposed to blasting him into tiny gobbets of flesh. He skids across the ground, bruised and beaten- but their attention now turns to Lisande, and that grabs his own attention away from his wounds for a moment.

"Meteor Axe!" he commands, energy flowing through his veins as never before as the head of his axe glows a fiery orange. The blazing weapon glows once with cosmic energy before it lets loose, slamming itself into the ground with unparalleled power. A wave of brilliant flame erupts from the ground as a fissure breaks loose over the forest floor, catching any unfortunate souls in its path in a blazing pillar of purgatory.

There are still two Taurospears left, but common sense dictates that they should not remain in the presence of this axeman who can suddenly cast arcane artes, and before Ark can cast judgment upon them, they flee.

Ark silently watched them retreat, then turned to his shaking quarry. "You all right?"

"I am now." She brushed ash off her gown with as much dignity as she could muster after being surrounded by a gang of fierce Taurospears. "You seem to have a strange penchant for saving me quite often." she added, in a slightly warm tone.

"Well…" Ark exhaled softly, his breath rising into the air like smoke. "You seem to have a strange penchant for needing to be saved."

"Oh, shut up." she mutters in response, but it is impossible to tell whether it is from the heat from the flames or from her own emotions.

Before Ark could articulate a half-decent reply, the ash-streaked faces of Marron and Ryden appeared from behind a scorched thicket, ruining whatever words the axeman was about to speak at that moment.

"You're all right, then?" Marron paid as much attention to the two as he would have a pair of house pets on the floor of a room.

"They seem fine, Dariel." Ryden sheathed his blade, dark from ash and blood, at his belt. "Unless you want another chance to practice your healing artes…"

"That'll do, Ryden." Marron sheathed his own sword and nodded to the two. "You'll be pleased to know that aside from a couple of minor injuries, we haven't suffered any casualties."

Lisande's face relaxed visibly. "That's good to hear."

"Well…" Ryden briskly clapped his hands and turned to Ark. "Unless you're still hungry, I'd like to get a move on. We still have a few hours of walking to do."

Ark glanced down at his blackened cuirass, streaked with Taurospear innards and other viscera. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass for now."

* * *

As the morning sun filtered itself gently through the lush forest canopy of Ellinia, Ascion Blade calmly breathed in the warm spring air and reflected upon the beauty of the quiet magician town.

Succession occurs rapidly in the forgiving climate of the magic-infused forest, and thanks to time, patience, and care from the fairies, the town had nearly returned to its original level of splendor since the destruction wreaked by Zeraion Phoenix upon the town. Bright tufts of leaves and fungi emerged from the gnarled bark of scorched trees; new stems and branches rose from where old stumps lay. It was beautiful and forgiving at the same time.

The teenage priest exhaled softly, his breath alighting on the gentle wind, before opening his eyes and gazing about at the city in earnest. It seemed rather childish to think of at a time like this, but he remembered the early days when Ark had sent him to live with Zeraion in this town when he was 11. The memories washed over him like salt water- stinging at wounds opened from years past, but healing as well.

"Are you all right, Ascion?" Iris glanced at the chocolate-haired magician next to her, his eyes wistfully taking in every inch of landscape that it could. "You seem a little out of focus…"

Ascion shook his head. "No. It's just…" He smiled ruefully. "I was just revisiting some childhood memories. You know, living with my brother, eating salad all day, and-"

"Yes?" Both Iris and Joe were eyeing him interestedly.

"Nothing." He cut off the end of his sentence, not wanting to say _her _name, and merely settled for absorbing more of the welcoming foliage with his eyes. Eventually, their interest in him waned, and Joe settled for kicking rocks along the forest path while Iris concentrated more on asking for directions, which she did with little success.

Finally, when the emerald-haired mage was at the end of her patience, a red-haired girl with pigtails poking from underneath her wide-rimmed hat approached them. There was a Kage stuck underneath her belt, which she eyed with some derision.

"Do you know where the head of the Ellinia research corps is?" she asked, as patiently as she could under the circumstances, which involved her nerves being stretched to the fraying point.

"Well…" The girl's voice was rather sassy. "What do you need with the head of the Ellinia research corps in the first place?"

"I need to have a talk with him." she replied, clenching her fist inside the pocket of her gown. "And probably rip his guts out for not putting up signposts in this place."

"Hm." The girl's eyes seemed to flicker. "Well, I'll send him a memo. And besides…" She pointed her finger behind them, towards a large vine-covered building made of stone. "You probably should have figured out by now that the research facility is the largest building in this area. Bye now." In a flash of blue light, she teleported away into thin air.

"Bitch." The ice mage rolled her eyes. "Well, come on. What are you two waiting for?"

Ascion muttered something feebly under his breath about not wanting to get in the way, while Joe merely folded his arms and shook his head.

After a quick Haste and a bit of branch-hopping, all three Elaesians were safely inside what looked like the waiting room of the Ellinian Research Facility. Magicians in lab coats of varying degrees of color scurried about, carrying test tubes, reports, or pushing carts. The air was rife with endless conversations carrying innumerable bits of jargon, and once in a while a faint explosion-like sound could be heard in the far recesses of the building.

The main door suddenly opened, and the same girl they had met outside on the streets stepped into the lobby, wearing a white lab coat over her night-black magician's gown. "All right." she said, in a business-like tone totally different from the one she'd used outside. "Karis, I want you working on the particle concentrations for the gravity arte. Terra, I want you on oxidation reactions. Minos-" Her eyes abruptly narrowed as she eyed Iris, Ascion and Joe derisively. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, you can." Iris met her gaze eye-for-eye. "Would you be so kind as to drop the research head a notice that some representatives for Elaesia are here to speak with him?"

"I see." She brushed some of her orange flame-colored hair from her eyes. "And what exactly would those representatives from Elaesia be seeking?"

"We need the gravity arte." Ascion cut in, determined to make the conversation as short as possible. "You wouldn't happen to have it anywhere, would you?"

"The gravity…oh, I see." she said, her face lighting up in recognition. "I'll see what I can do." She disappeared into the door she'd emerged from, leaving the three to their own devices for a moment.

"Nice place." Ascion eyed the blank, whitewashed walls. "Reminds me of the medical wards that we set up some time ago."

"And they called you Chief Medical Officer back then." Iris smiled, a faint giggle making its way into her voice.

"I was just exchanging one set of robes for another." Ascion replied coolly, tugging at the sleeve of his night-colored mantle.

The girl returned through the door, her eyes betraying nothing as a simple, nondescript scroll lay in her enclosed palm. "Here you are. Take good care of it."

Ascion took the scroll and stowed it in his jacket pocket. "Won't the research head say anything?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I don't mind…not even after I spent a week without sleep transcribing the equations." Her hair bobbed about her shoulders as she shook her head. "Do with it what you will."

Ascion felt his insides fall out through his chest. "You're…the leader of the research corps?" he asked, gingerly.

"Yes." She nodded and extended her hand. "Schuyler Kusanagi, at your service. Now, unless you need a healing arte or something, I'm afraid I have some work to take care of."

"Wait." Ascion murmured, running a hand through his hair. "Schuyler…Why do I feel like I've heard that name before?"

"Hold on." Joe shook his head. "You were the one who found Zer in the Forest of Dead Trees after he collapsed, right?"

Schuyler's eyes widened for a brief second. "Stalrigarde?"

"The one and only." Joe allowed the faintest of smiles to creep over his face before he resumed his serious expression. "It's nice to see you down here. What are you doing?"

"Nothing much, just running the busiest research facility on the face of the earth." Schuyler raked a handful of hair behind her neck. "I see you've been thrown into the Elaesian Armed Forces, haven't you?" she asked, noticing their identical jackets.

"Unfortunately, yes." The alchemist wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "See you haven't."

"Well, I managed to avoid that drama." Schuyler replied modestly, tucking her right hand into the pocket of her lab coat. "I got myself deployed to Ellinia and found a niche working as a researcher behind a desk all day. One thing led to another, and lo and behold, I suddenly became the head of the whole place." She exhaled deeply, casting an eye over the whitewashed walls. "What a gyp."

"Charming story." Ascion fingered the scroll in his pocket. "Anything interesting happen over here? Athena wants to know the news."

"In the way of monsters attacking and blowing up the place, nothing much." Schuyler shook her head, her flame-colored locks drifting about her neck.

"Good. That's all we needed to know." Ascion cast a glance about him, his eyes scanning the walls. "You wouldn't mind recommending a decent hotel, would you?"

Schuyler gave him an odd look. "I can offer you three a few cots in the back of my office. It's not quite as glamorous as Mansion Man here, but it'll do." Joe turned a delicate shade of puce when she said the sentence.

"Hm." Iris folded her arms across her chest. "Let's just get out of here-"

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout from the door as all heads turned towards the source of the noise. The glass doors of the Ellinian Research Facility were thrown open with a loud noise as a bloody pile of armor staggered over the threshold and fell with a thump to the floor.

At least, that's what it looked like; as Ascion, Joe, Iris, and Schuyler ventured closer, they could see that the thing mistaken for a pile of armor was actually a person, a warrior by his looks. Iris screamed and Ascion winced in disgust as they neared him; his face was so crisscrossed with blood and slashes that it was barely recognizable, his armor having suffered more or less the same fate.

Ascion knelt by the dying man and shook his head. "I can't save him. His cell structure is already too far damaged-"

"Whoa, whoa." Joe knelt down as well and wiped the dying man's face with his glove. "Hate to ruin the moment, but I'd be more worried about what exactly could do this kind of damage to a person first."

The warrior coughed weakly and choked, coughing up a putrid mixture of blood and what seemed like barely-digested food. "Perion…" he wheezed.

Ascion's blood froze in his veins. "Perion…" he repeated, slowly.

The warrior coughed once more, and breathed, painstakingly, "Perion…has been…destroyed."

Iris clapped a hand to her mouth as Ascion and Joe sat, dumbstruck. "It…it can't be…" the alchemist whispered hollowly.

The dying man nodded. "Balrogs…Taurospears." he coughed, more blood appearing. "Too many…for us…to handle."

"Strength in numbers." Ascion nodded darkly. "What should we do?"

"Can…do…nothing." the warrior gasped. "Everyone…is…dead…"

"No." Ascion whispered, his fist clenched. "They must have had an escape route. An evacuation plan. Something."

"Perhaps…" He breathed shallowly, pain piercing through him as blood filled his lungs. "But…troops…have been…destroyed. Need…need caution."

"Caution?" Ascion blinked.

"Caution…yes." the warrior whispered hoarsely. "Much destruction…lies ahead of us…in the days to come."

He then gave a great shuddering moan and expired on the floor.

"…" Ascion grit his teeth and spat out inaudible words as Joe closed his eyes. It was Schuyler who broke the deathly silence. "What do we do?"

"We've got to warn Athena." Ascion was on his feet once more, his eyes resourceful and determined. "The demons that destroyed Perion may very well be on their way here as we speak. The Elaesians must know of this at all costs."

"Right." Joe stood up and dusted off his jacket. "We'll leave at once. Make sure the gravity arte is safe."

"I'll go with you." Schuyler drew her Kage from her belt and held the skull-tipped staff aloft, flame glittering at its jaws. "You'll need an escort for the arte." Iris rolled her eyes and grumbled something under her breath, but the fire mage either didn't hear or pretended not to.

As they stepped outside, however, a sweaty-faced ice-lightning wizard dashed up to Schuyler and tapped her on the shoulder. "Miss Kusanagi…?"

"Yes?" she snapped, whipping around to face the wizard. "What is it?"

"Well…" He swallowed past the massive lump in his throat. "We've just detected a large contingent of biomass moving our way, and it's not looking good." He gulped once more, trying in vain to moisten the inside of his mouth. "Call me crazy, but it looks like a bunch of Crimson Balrogs are heading our way."

"How much time do we have?" Schuyler's voice was like a whip cracking."

"About…" He wiped perspiration from his forehead. "About thirty minutes."

"That's not good." She chewed the tip of her tongue between her teeth. "We have a slightly bigger number of forces than Perion, but…if the magnitude of the assault really is as great as predicted, then that won't help much."

"Somebody has to go to Elaesia," Ascion summed it up, "and fast."

"Don't look at me." Joe shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive motion.

"There's not much we can do at this stage, anyway." Schuyler ran a hand across her forehead before turning to the wizard. "Send a couple of scouts to Elaesia with the news that we're being attacked, and send word to the military outposts around the city that we're being attacked. Tell them to prepare for one hell of a fight."

The wizard bowed before leaving, and Schuyler turned to Ascion, Joe, and Iris with a dark expression. "Come on. We've got to get you suited up."

Ascion raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

It was Schuyler's turn to eye them with derision. "What. You didn't think you were going to leave without helping us out for a bit, were you?"

* * *

Zeraion Phoenix awoke from his sleep, slowly stretching his arms and cracking his sore joints.

"Ow…Damn it." he muttered, sitting up blindly in bed. For some reason, although it should have been afternoon, it was completely dark outside, as though it were midnight. He shook his head, trying to see through the darkness that permeated the room.

"Gardner?" Zeraion called gingerly, awaiting a reply. There was none, only the sound of his own voice echoing across the empty room. Slightly unnerved, Zeraion took up the Abyssal Arund and ventured outside.

However, relief washed over him when he saw Rathias Gardner silhouetted in the moonlight, sitting cross-legged on the bank of the tide pool, apparently meditating. After mentally debating whether to disturb the bowmaster or not, Zeraion threw caution to the wind and called out, "Gardner!"

The bowmaster opened his eyes as though from a deep sleep. "Yes, Zeraion?"

"The sky's dark." He pointed upwards at the moon and stars that populated the shimmering sky. "I couldn't have slept for that long, could I?"

Gardner chuckled. "Yes, you probably could have, but that's not the point. You are correct in noticing that it is dark outside, but I assure you that you are not going insane. It is a perfectly natural occurrence."

"How so?" Zeraion asked warily, as if the sky suddenly changing from day to night within one hour was a totally commonplace event.

"Well, the Isle of Ascension is a floating island, as you very well know. It is anchored to the earth by means of the mana pool on its center, the waterfall, and as such, if mana currents shift during the day, the Isle's location in the time zones may change slightly." His expression suddenly became pensive. "However, for such a drastic change to occur over such a short period is unusual, even for this time. That would signify a dramatic change in the world's mana flow."

"So…in other words, that means…?" Zeraion asked gingerly, dreading the answer.

"It means that a great upheaval has occurred in another part of the world." Gardner replied, his face not betraying any emotion as the moon shone over it.

"Gault." Zeraion automatically murmured, clenching his fist. "Something must have happened in Victoria."

"Perhaps, Zeraion." Gardner shifted his position on the stone. "Although I would like for you to receive as much training as possible, I also do not want you suffering from the effects of jet lag…so to speak." He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together. "Rest until morning. It should be just a couple of hours at most until daybreak."

"Thanks." Zeraion turned and traipsed back to the hut. So at least the world wasn't suddenly turning itself inside out, which was a good thing. But _something _had definitely happened outside of the Isle, and for all his mental prowess, Rathias Gardner could not possibly hide the truth that not everything was all and well in Victoria Island.

He tucked himself back underneath the covers of his bed and tried to sleep, but couldn't. The feeling of unease hung over his head, and for the first time since the chess game, he found himself thinking about Ark and Ascion once more. _Are they all right? What if…_

He managed to push the unpleasant thought from his mind as he finally got up, throwing aside the covers. Obviously, sleep could not reach him through the tangled web his thoughts had become. Maybe reading one of the heavy books off the shelf could help ease him back into slumber?

When he pushed himself off the chair to examine the bookshelf, however, one book in particular caught his eye. Unlike the other tomes on the shelf, this one was smaller and thinner, something like a personal diary.

And as he took it off the shelf, he could see that that was exactly what it was; a diary of some previous inhabitant of the hut. The corners of the book were somewhat floppy-eared and wrinkled, and the pages were inevitably yellowed, but otherwise, the diary was in fairly excellent condition. There were a pair of initials printed on the cover, but time and erosion had weathered them away until only the scarred binding of the cover was visible.

His heart thrumming in his chest as the book lay before him, Zeraion dug his fingers under the cover and flipped to the first page.

_May 7, AB 2175_

_Dear Diary:_

_Today is my eighth birthday. I'm really excited. I wonder if I'll be able to become an archer today._

Zeraion raised an eyebrow as he read the entry- since when were there eight year-olds living on the Isle of Ascension?

Shaking his head, he continued to read down the page, using the dim moonlight as his lamp.

_I've always admired the archers of Henesys for quite some time. Elegant, graceful, and deadly all at the same time. True, the warriors have their strike artes, the magicians have their elemental powers, and the thieves have their alchemy, but I've always thought that the bowmen were in a class all their own, quite enigmatic._

_I wonder if I'll be able to unlock some of their secrets today._

Now both of Zeraion's eyebrows were raised- what kind of eight year-olds used words such as 'enigmatic' in their diary entries? He also noticed that the handwriting was surprisingly neat- which amazed him even further. He would have thought that most eight-year olds could barely write legibly.

For a second, he thought the author was Gault, but immediately discounted it when he read the date. The entry had been written in the year AB 2175, and the current year was 2207. Doing the arithmetic in his head, Zeraion concluded that whomever had written the entry, if he was still alive, would be forty years old now.

The author was right about one thing- this _was _quite enigmatic.

He turned the page and saw a continuation of the previous entry, written in a slightly messier type than the previous page. Likely out of excitement.

_YES. I've done it. I've received my blessing from Athena Pierce today. I never noticed it before, but she is really beautiful up close._

_I've read over the skills in the book that she gave me. To tell the truth, they all look much too tempting, like dishes on a dessert cart. Arrow Blow, Double Shot, Critical Shot…it's quite a bit for me to wrap my head around. I'd like to practice them now, but Mom is shouting at me for dinner. Maybe tomorrow._

_---_

The entry ended there, an unceremonious stop of the writing on the page as nearly half the paper was left blank. Zeraion turned the page once more.

---

_June 11, AB 2178_

_Dear Diary:_

_Today was interesting, to say the least. I went out to the Ant Tunnel today- it's a long walk from Henesys to the Dungeon, but it's nothing I can't handle. I spent quite a while there- Athena tells me that Mom nearly lost her head calling me for lunch. Not that it matters- I've always been partial to the fare they serve at the Ant Tunnel Park, even if it is a tad pricey._

_Today, I met a warrior in the Cave of Evil Eyes. A spearman, apparently, same age as I am, give or take a few months. I was quite surprised by his demeanor- I expected him to give me a thorough shouting for intruding onto "his" territory, but he turned out to be quite nice. We shared the area together for the whole afternoon and I gained a couple of levels in one day. Excellent. His name's Keiga Seles and he's level 28, but then again I'm level 27._

_We have a bet on who's going to reach their 2nd job advancement first, so I've gotta stop writing for a second and restring that Hunter's Bow. _

_---_

_Keiga Seles. _The name of the legendary Dark Knight struck Zeraion as familiar, and he suddenly dropped the book onto the table with slight reverence- this was a person who knew the great Dark Knight in his youth. Obviously, he was not dealing with any light adventurer here.

An early memory came creeping back to him from a few years back, when he had been in the Uprising.

_Keiga Seles has been a longtime friend of mine; I spoke to him and he said he'd be more than happy to teach you a bit of swordplay._

Ah, yes. The infamous swordsmanship lessons which he had got absolutely no benefit from because he used a spear. But Zeraion was now convinced, more than ever, that he was holding Rathias Gardner's childhood diary.

As soon as this fact was acknowledged, an immediate stream of new questions began to make their way into the ranger's mind. _How long has Gardner been keeping this diary? How long has he been keeping it here? _

He pushed aside the questions. Those could wait for now. He cast a wary eye outside, but Gardner was still meditating, apparently unaware of the events that were going on inside the hut.

Taking a deep breath, Zeraion turned the page.

_June 13, AB 2178_

_Dear Diary:_

_Damn it. I now owe 5,000 mesos to a certain auburn-haired spearman official thirty minutes ago. Damn him and his Slash Blast. But I'll get even with him when I start practicing my Arrow Bomb._

_Speaking of which, I should probably add that I made my 2nd job advancement ten minutes ago. Of course, that doesn't reduce the debt that I have to pay to Seles, but it's still a monumental event nonetheless. Mom and Dad are making a big fuss out of it, but I wish they wouldn't. I have to write- and for that matter, practice._

_The test was quite interesting, if nothing else. Athena expressed her admiration at my having reached my thirtieth level at the young age of 11. She told me that I will become a great bowman someday, although I can't help feeling it's fluff. But enough of that. I met with the Bowman Instructor near the dungeon. She led me into a hidden cavern where I had to slaughter Horned and Zombie Mushrooms to collect Dark Marbles to pass the exam. Of course, since I've already spent too much of my life training in the Ant Tunnel with Seles, it was easier than cake. I ran back to Henesys with my Proof of a Hero in double-quick time._

_That reminds me, I should probably add another interesting snippet. When I returned, Athena was ecstatic. She kept saying things like "My, Rathias, you're so talented" and "You will become a great bowman someday". Slightly cheesy in my opinion, but at least she's not shouting at me. Besides, being overly complimented by the one remaining bowmistress in the world isn't quite bad, either._

_She showed me the book for a Hunter. It had all the frills, including Bow Booster, Soul Arrow, and even Arrow Bomb. Things I've been envying for about three years so far. However, there was also something else she mentioned; a little-known trick by the name of Final Attack._

_Apparently, according to Athena, this 'Final Attack' has the ability to amplify the power of my skill attacks and turn them into an even stronger attack that is capable of doing great damage to an enemy. However, there is a personal risk that must be taken into account. I know. I've seen her arms._

_But I have to do it. After all, if I intend to become the youngest Bowmaster in existence, I should work on this technique even if it costs me my life. There is no true risk on the path to greatness, just another level of difficulty._

…_Which reminds me, I need to pay back that ass by the time the sun sets today. Guess a trip to the Ant Tunnel is in order._

_---_

Zeraion laid the diary on the table and stared at it in awe for a moment. So, this really was the diary of the great Rathias Gardner, the one person other than Athena Pierce herself to have mastered the legendary technique of Final Attack…

…_other than Gault, _his conscience chides, and he suddenly becomes very interested in reading the rest of the entries now.

The entries that follow through the rest of the year and beyond are all either one or two paragraphs, most of which consist of an angry disappointment of having nearly lost an arm or a leg while practicing Final Attack, but vowing to work even harder next time.

Zeraion knows the feeling. He's experienced it himself many times over; although the scars are long gone from his arms, the lingering pain still remains, and that reminds him of Grace.

More pain. He fast-forwards to what seems to be a relevant entry, its words sticking up from the page because it is written in neat cursive and is more than a page long.

_August 27, AB 2182_

_Wonderful day today. Hit level 50 at long last. Now I'll finally be able to use that Olympus that I found at Maladies while training. Damn them, I still have the scars from dodging those witches. Like the ones that I've accumulated while practicing Final Attack._

…_But I can't talk about that now. I wish I could. I wish I could write about something that bears relevance to my work. Something like arrow velocity or bowstring maintenance, even a soliloquy on the mechanics of Final Attack._

_It happened today when I was practicing. I used Arrow Bomb as usual, and I pulled the string back as usual to focus for another attack, but this time, I thought of **her. **I thought of her, and the string broke, and I was suddenly lying on my back with second-degree burns._

_Not that it matters. I would rather endure a hundred misfires from Final Attack than expose myself to the heartburn I get thinking for her._

_I try not to think of her, but it plays within my mind, over and over again, like a broken record, and every time I try with Final Attack, her voice is enough to break my concentration, her beauty enough to melt my perseverance._

_I can't believe I'm writing this, but I think I'm in love._

After reading this entry, Zeraion lapsed into silent thought. According to the date, Gardner was 15 when he wrote this entry. The perfect age for a love interest. Amazingly, the future bowmaster had captured the emotions of love perfectly on the pages below him. The sensations had felt oddly similar to the times he had been around Grace.

Was this the "her" that Gardner had referred to earlier, the one whom he had wanted to spend his life with forever, the woman who was so special to him that she couldn't even be mentioned by name in his private thoughts- almost as if to do so would be sacrilege?

Perhaps _her _name is written deeper in the diary, but somehow, he doubts it.

He turns the pages arbitrarily until another entry comes up.

_July 18, AB 2185_

_Before I say anything else, I'd like to let it be known to the spirits who read this that Seles has a girlfriend. Lucky bastard. Her name's Arianna, Arianna Castelia. Quite frankly, she isn't bad looking at all, and they seem to love each other. _

_I wish I could say the same for myself._

_But none of that sentimental crap. Today, I have finally reached the pinnacle of bow mastery which I once thought impossible. Yes, after killing what seems like every single undead creature that ever existed in El Nath- twice- I have finally become a level 70 Hunter, soon-to-be-Ranger in a few days._

_I'm going practically insane over the event. I've sold practically everything I own and spent the resulting money on the best of equipment. Golden Hinkel, scrolls included. Dark Linnex, dexterity scrolls included. Gaia Cape, Dark Elf Shoes, Dark Eyes. Hell, even a pair of Metal Silver Earrings. Seles is calling me an overzealous idiot, but then again he's a spearman. Warriors are just mentally tougher for some reason._

_I had a talk with Athena to celebrate the event. Aside from giving me the usual speech of "Rathias, you're the best student I've ever had", and so on and so forth, she did say that she and Sitting Bull will be preparing an extra special third job advancement test for Seles and me. Can't wait._

_Because of our prowess with the second release, Athena thinks we might be ready to work on a third release. In order to prepare us for this, she's decided to give us one #$& of a doozy. Guess what? We're going to Zakum. Yep- that crazy, neurotic statue underneath Ossyria that causes life-threatening earthquakes and avalanches daily._

_Athena seemed worried when she explained all this, but it's not like I have anything to worry about. Not with the experience I've been putting into Final Attack. I can still remember the time Seles and I accidentally blew up a mountain near Perion and caused an avalanche in the Dangerous Valley. God, Sitting Bull was pissed…that's the first time I've ever seen real smoke come out of somebody's nose before. Good times._

_I just hope I can trust that bastard to carry my back. Together, we won't fail. We will defeat Zakum, and we will travel a step farther in our ultimate paths to the legendary 4th job advancement._

_Except maybe now, this might not be the best time to mention it, because Seles and Arianna are…erm…oh, god, never mind. It's just too nerve-wracking to put on paper and I'm afraid this book will spontaneously combust if I attempt to write it down. I'll just pray he isn't too tired tomorrow to kick some statue ass._

_---_

Zeraion blinked at the paper below him in amazement. It was hard to believe that the good-natured, eloquent bowmaster sitting outside had been a foul-mouthed teenager 22 years ago, ready and eager to prove himself ready for the third-job advancement.

As he turned the next few pages, he saw that they were blank, until there was a small line of text crammed at the bottom of an otherwise blank page:

_July 23, AB 2185_

_YES. We did it. Too tired to write now, but I'll fill myself in on all the details later. Right now, I want to sleep, but I'm not sure if I can with Seles and Arianna 'celebrating' in the next room. Somebody save me._

_---_

_July 24, AB 2185_

_Oh, sweet mother of Bera. Where to begin, where to begin…Well, to make a long story short, YES. We defeated that horrible scourge known as Zakum after a long and grueling duel, and we were judged worthy of being able to become a Ranger and Dragon Knight._

_Like all major events, there's good news and bad news. I suppose I'll have to deal with the bad first._

_Apparently, when Seles and I used a third release in desperation to destroy Zakum, we misjudged the effect that Final Attack combined with a third-class ability would have on us. The result blew Zakum to kingdom come, but it also came with quite a heavy price. I felt my arm explode, and this time for real. When the smoke cleared, it was just hanging disgustingly from my right shoulder, like a piece of spaghetti. Thank god I'm left-handed, or I wouldn't be able to write this right now, but my career as a ranger is now kinda shot. I can't shoot with one hand. Damn Seles. Somehow, despite his taking the brunt of the damage, both of his arms are perfectly fine._

_Athena is really beating herself up badly right now. Somehow, she thinks it's her fault that I got my arm blown up, and she's feeling guilty to no end. She must have apologized at least a thousand times today when I saw her, and she was crying, which was rather unpleasant. I talked it over with her, and she thinks that with intense physiotherapy, the nerves in my arm just might be able to heal. It's a long-shot, but then again I don't have much choice._

_But I won't stay on such miserable diatribe for long. I'll spill the big news now. Guess what: Arianna's pregnant. Yeah, I know. I was surprised, too. I celebrated by pouring ice water in Seles' armor this morning, which I guess he didn't appreciate too much given the magnitude of the scream that erupted from his room yesterday, but I'm happy for him. Really, I am._

Zeraion notices there is a single stain on the paper where the ink has smeared here.

_They're excited like bunnies, and Seles is, to my amusement, going mental. He's acting like this is a bad thing, which it sort of is, if you find out you have to raise a kid one-handed. But I'm sure he'll come to appreciate his new son or daughter more in the years to come._

_For his sake and for his child's sake, I hope he does._

_Yet somehow, I can't help feel a tiny bit of sadness in the corner of my heart, because I know I'll never get to be with **her. **I can dream and pull petals off daisies as much as I want, but I don't need silly rhymes to tell me what I already know._

…_Heavens help me, I think I just wrote sap. I wish this quill had an erase function._

_---_

That concludes the day's entry from the 17-year old futre bowmaster, and Zeraion blinks down at it with even more disbelief- it seems that no matter how much he thinks otherwise, there is a surprise waiting for him on every page. If Gardner lost his arm to a third release, why on earth would he be risking his student's life to teach him one?

_Maybe because he has faith in me, _Zeraion thinks, touching the weathered page.

_Or perhaps because he really doesn't have any other choice._

He flips through the entries once more, but they have become mundane, descriptions of physiotherapy and learning to use his arm again. No interest whatsoever, becoming more of a medical log than a diary.

The next entry that is of interest to him presents itself a few pages down the line.

_January 4, AB 2186_

_Wonderful news. For the first time since the incident a few months back, I think my arm is healed now. I can pull a bowstring without feeling like my wrist is on fire, and I can even perform menial tasks such as opening a door and unscrewing a jar. Simple tasks, but monumental in the progress they signify._

_Athena was overjoyed when she found out, and I was afraid she was going to cry again. She did. Apparently, the fact that I've finally been able to cure myself of the cursed condition that I've had to endure for the past few months is wonderful news to her. It's like salvation from the terrible crime she's supposedly committed. Not that I blame her- far from it. Mostly, I blame myself for being careless, but at least it's nice to know she cares about me._

_Arianna's five months pregnant now, and it shows. Seles is five months insane, and it also shows. Between the two of them, I think they've eaten enough food to feed the city of Perion for the next five years, but that's just me._

_Speaking of which, I've decided to tell **her. **It's now or never, and I think we're both ready for it now. If I leave this hanging now, I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life, and I don't want that to happen. _

_I'm going to ask her tonight._

Zeraion's curiosity is not assuaged by this enigmatic entry. But then again, he thinks, as he runs a hand across his forehead, that's Rathias Gardner for you.

He is about to turn the page when he notices a small postscript crammed in the lower corner of the page.

_Did it tonight._

Zeraion doesn't want to know what _that _means, so he turns the page as quickly as possible. The rest of the pages continue onwards where they left off, more physiotherapy, more learning to use a bow again, more Final Attack, until a truly surprising entry enters his view.

At first, he can't make heads or tails of the writing, but he realizes that it is because the page is so blurred with tears that the writing is distorted.

_April 15, AB 2186_

_**Damn it. Damn it all to hell.**_

The explanation for this furious outburst is stated explicitly on the next page, as Zeraion soon discovers.

_April 16, AB 2186_

_Damn it. So much has happened yesterday that I don't even know where to start. It seems almost heartless to put it on paper, but I have to. It's the only thing I feel like doing that will give me some measure of peace._

_Arianna's dead. She died of complications during birth, complications being the fact that the baby came out with its head and shoulder wedged out at the same time. It's a rare but highly dangerous condition, and when it happens, the baby suffocates. Naturally, they didn't want that to happen, so they had to cut her open to get the baby out. As you can imagine, this helped her already-weakened body none at all, and a massive infection set in. The rest, as they say, is history._

_As if to add insult to injury, their son is maimed as well. During the whole ordeal, it turns out, he lost circulation to his left arm. Better than losing circulation to his heart or lungs, but it's devastating nevertheless. The kid's arm is useless; it's nothing more than a bauble dangling from his shoulder. And I know how that feels._

_Seles did something I never would have expected. He offered to sacrifice his left arm in order to give his son one. Apparently, there's a magical surgical procedure that, when done correctly, will allow his healthy nerves to be transplanted in place of his son's destroyed ones, restoring use of the limb. I can't believe what he's doing- he's basically sacrificing his entire livelihood as a spear-user, considering he has to use two hands to wield a spear, but it is his own son, after all, and I think I probably would have done the same thing had I been in his place._

_They tell me that Arianna named her son with her last breath before she died. His name is Aslan. It means 'courage'. Well, he's going to need a lot of that if he plans on getting through this next operation. I don't think Seles will be able to take care of Aslan with only one arm- I guess the child will have to be sent to a foster home. Seles has a friend, Kain Marron, whom he could send the child to; I guess that's better than nothing._

_Speaking of which, **she's **now four months pregnant. I can only wish the best for our child- I don't know if I will be able to take care of him or her once he/she is born._

_Please, Goddess, don't let me fail to be a good father to my children…_

Zeraion closed the book shut with a loud thud, breathing hard, and at that exact same moment he heard the sound of breathing behind him.

His heart flying into his throat, Zeraion turned around slowly to see Rathias Gardner standing above him.

"I see you've been doing some reading, Zeraion." The expression on Gardner's face is emotionless and it drives the ranger nearly insane- does he know that he's been reading his diary? If he does know, what is his reaction?

"I…I had insomnia." Zeraion fakes the excuse lamely, but it seems to satisfy the bowmaster. "You know, what with the island shifting and all that." He quickly picks up the book and cradles it to his chest, so that Gardner will not see it, and tucks it back into its original position on the bookshelf.

"Nothing like reading to soothe an upset soul, Zeraion." Gardner smiles at his student, giving no evidence that he has seen anything of the book. "I suggest that if you are not too tired, you venture outside for a quick run. Daybreak has begun."

"R-right." Zeraion stumbles from the chair and runs out quickly, not daring to look directly at the bowmaster's face.

Despite the speed with which he rushes by, he can still feel Rathias Gardner's eyes searing into the back of his head as he runs, seeing nothing and yet everything at the same time.

* * *

_My daughter…_

She slumbers on in silence, not hearing anything.

_My daughter…_

As if from a trance, she awakes, staring at him with wide eyes in disbelief. He cannot be here, not here, not now…

_Why are you here? _she whispers, her voice unnaturally soft in the cold walls of the room.

_I am here for your destiny, child. The destiny that you wrought upon yourself so many years ago._

_My destiny? _she asks, a single question amongst the darkness that she sits in.

_Yes, my daughter. _The voice seems to drift away as it speaks, disappearing into the abyss. She tries to run after it, but an invisible force has pinned her down. She cannot move her arms or her legs, or for that matter, any part of her body. She can only watch and listen.

_Your destiny…is with me, child._

-----

Then suddenly, images begin to flood her mind as she struggles to remain conscious. The image of a tall, strong man with orange hair and a great regal blade, standing next to a hooded woman with a sapphire-colored bow draped across her back. The image of a young girl playing with her friends in the fields of Henesys. The darkness and death of years that have passed long ago, the image of a tall, dark-haired person with a large, silver dragon-head bow in his grip, a ferocious, inhuman roar that pierces through the silence and fills her mind, and then-

_He _appears; tall, dark, forbidding, as he strides across the burnt plains to meet her. She tries to move or defend herself, but she is powerless as her limbs move of her own accord- it is as if she is merely a puppet on a puppeteer's string. She marches forward along the plains as the acrid taste of smoke and blood harshly lies in her mouth.

Then, a hand moves as long, dark hair flutters about his shoulders. An incantation is spoken as magic crackles at the tips of the man's fingers, and then a knife of darkness and blood-red is suddenly in his hand, death traced upon its spectral edge.

He raises the blade of the dagger and points it at her figure, and then suddenly, she is down, helpless upon her knees as the sound of the monster's roar rips through her ears, granting her a fate worse than death as his bloodstained dagger points at her upon the ground with all the authority of Fate itself.

-----

Natalia Arundale jerked awake, grabbing at the glass of water that Athena had left by her dresser to keep her company. This wasn't the first time she had had a nightmare when left to her own devices, but it was definitely the first time it had seemed so…so real.

She shook her head and ran a hand through her messy hair, trying to remember the dream, but it all slips so fast through her fingers like water. There were lingering images of darkness, she remembers, darkness and blood, and above all, a tall, dark-haired man with a dagger of cruel blood-red.

Her parched throat does not let her make any noise other than a hoarse, gasping whisper, and it is then that she realizes that she is thirsty.

The water feels cool and refreshing as it slips down her throat.

* * *

There's a lot I would like to say in this space before I depart for a month, but by the time you read this, I will probably already have left. Just want you all to know that I was highly sleep-deprived near the end of the chapter, so don't graphically murder me if you find a couple of spelling/grammar errors. I know this chapter raises a lot of questions and red herrings, but I will answer all your questions when I get back from my month-long sabbatical.

So, without further ado, I present my ending speech to you in three concise words:

Review, or die.

-Kal Ancalas


	21. Of Dragon's Light and Phoenix's Flame

**Chapter 18**

**Notice: Sorry for reuploading this chapter, but I took the liberty of correcting several grammar and spelling mistakes that my incompetent spell-checker left out (thanks, velocidrome.) In addition, I've also revised the ending of the chapter because I felt the original simply didn't have the effect I wanted. Hope it's better this time. By the way, it wouldn't hurt to play a song like Everlasting or My Heart Will Go On while reading the ending, even if you hate BoA and/or Celine Dion.  
**

_Primary Warning: In order to compensate for being lazy and procrastinating on this chapter, this chapter is super long (sorry, Chief.) I would recommend not reading this unless you have at least an hour to spare (and that's if you're a fast reader.)_

_Secondary Warning: Yes, there is a huge, five-page author's note with way too many parentheses ahead, but what do you expect after spending over a month away without teh internets?  
_

!Pathetic!Psycho!Author's Note: I'm back! (Collective groan)

Yeah, yeah, I know you all hate the author's notes, but you do have to pay a small price for reading this kewl story. However, for those of you that truly can't be bothered, I offer a painless solution besides complaining to me and being ignored: It's the little key at the extreme right of your keyboard with the words "Page Down" printed on it.

And yes, I realize that this author's note could practically be its own crack chapter, but I really need to say this stuff after being incarcerated for a month- I know I'll regret it a lot if I don't. So, before I get down to the inevitable review-picking of this author's note, I would like to say that I hope you're having a slightly better summer than I am, and I hope you haven't forgotten this story in the wake of Deathly Hallows (which I haven't been able to buy yet because there's a 999-week waiting list- boo, shame.)

Anyway, after a month with no iPod, very little internet access, and lots of time to stir up my stagnating creative juices, it's understandable that I would have a lot to say in regard to the reviews that I've received for this chapter. First of all, as a collective whole, I really have to express my utmost sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed, whether it be a few lines of chatspeak, a tightly-crammed paragraph, or a huge soliloquy telling me that I shouldn't be creative in writing battle scenes (which I've been getting a lot of lately, thank you very much.) A record 35 reviews have been obtained for this new update, and once more, I greatly thank all of you who took the time to share your opinions.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), I neither have the time, patience, or tact to write 35 review replies, so I will do the second-best thing and merely reply to the biggest-addressed issues without quoting actual comments. Please understand that all replies are written as a honest means of debate and that I do not intend to insult, berate or otherwise offend anyone with my words. To quote an earlier reviewer, take these with a pinch of salt, and maybe a little tequila while you're at it.

**-----**

**1. Canonicity (press Page Down if you must)**

While I appreciated the large volume of input given to me regarding canonicity in this story, I have to say, frankly, that canonicity is one of the few things that I honestly don't care about (I would use more descriptive language here, but I'm afraid of causing somebody's eardrums to spontaneously combust). Although this is strictly opinion, I feel that in the world of fanfiction, canonicity should be low (comparatively, at the very least) on the list of things that authors need to worry about. I would rather have someone tell me that my romance and battle scenes need more detail (which they do) as opposed to being told that I should take out a bunch of fancy techs simply because it's not conventional. Hello- I think the whole _point_ of fiction is not to be conventional (Yes, I know I've said this before, and I know people are still going to say that there's a fine line between creativity and pure retardedness. I do acknowledge that, but I'm much too tired to clutter my chapter prologues with useless debate any longer, so just take these words and leave it at that.

In deference to those who commented to tell me what a prick I am for inventing (stealing) attacks and techniques that don't exist, I won't fault you for saying so. I'm not going to go so far as to blame these people for jealousy (in fact, nothing could be farther from my actual opinion), because I know what it feels like. To quote a handful of reviewers, my taking creative license with the battle scenes has "taken the MapleStory flavor out of it" and that I should "go back to basics" because "a fanfiction is no longer a fanfiction when it contains elements not remotely connected to the game it is based on". (Memo to Chief: Pray tell, how come _I'm_ the one getting all these kinds of comments and you aren't?)

Well, I don't deny that these people have a point, because I sometimes get the same idea when I reread my chapters to myself during sleepless nights, but to quote another reviewer (slightly edited for grammar), _"More important to keep yourself happy over your readers' happiness, no matter what they say. I mean, sure, you might piss off a couple people, but screw the public- if you work on keeping yourself happy, you might be able to focus on writing even more. You never know."_

Well said. I've been thinking of printing this out with WordArt and framing it on the wall of my bedroom, and I guess this says a lot more than any sappy, sarcasm-laced rant than I could hope to contrive here.

As a kind of weak defense in my point of view, I've mostly used canon techniques for large-scale battle scenes, such as the point where Perion gets destroyed second time around, and I delegate the fancy stuff to the main characters because they're, well, main. Please understand that I don't deliberately do this kind of thing to invoke hostile feelings (although I like to think of it in that light).

I've noticed over the months that a handful of reviews have said that my story was good at the beginning, but got crappier as it went along, which I think is in large part due to the non-canonicity and gradually using a larger vocabulary. (Do not misconstrue this as me saying that those people are retarded- I do realize that lots of people, including me, dislike stories that make you spend more time with a dictionary than the actual book.) In regard to the larger vocabulary, I guess that's just a habit I picked up from reading other people's better-written stories and trying to emulate their language, but that's just me. However, on the non-canonicity issue, that's a separate story, which I will now tell below.

As many people have noticed, Revolt of the Archers now bears very little resemblance to the story it was nearly 8 months ago. For one thing, in December, there was no 300,000+ words, 300+ reviews, 50+ favorites, no fancy adjectives, and definitely no non-canonicity. Just another Maple fic, plain and simple.

Unfortunately, the "plain" and "simple" parts soon began to spiral out of control as this story picked up momentum, and before I knew it, this story was 8 months pregnant with plot holes, emo characters, and yes, non-canon attacks. (Bad metaphor, I know, but you can blame all the foreign movies I've been watching in my hotel room over the past month for this statement.) Hell, even the title doesn't fit anymore. This story should be retitled "Tales of the Evil Ancient Demon That Wants To Destroy The World" or something cliché like that, but too many people already are used to the outdated title. I'll probably change it after I finish the story.

The most significant change that one would notice in this story is around Chapter 8-9 (don't remember which and too lazy to look it up), when the towns are destroyed by Zeraion (possessed by Gault, if you still remember) and Athena forms the Elaesian Armed Forces as a means of resistance. Why the sudden change of plot? Why the sudden turn away from the world of normalcy and into the untested realms of weird attacks and whiny reviewers?

Because I got my level 80 Ranger effing hacked, that's why.

To be a little more chronologically accurate, I actually got hacked around Chapter 4-5, but it took Nexon four chapters' time to reset my PIN, and when I got it back I found that everything was missing (sans the clean, cruddy equips I'm wearing now which I assume the hacker didn't have time to steal, or maybe he/she wasn't interested). And just like that; mental degeneration, insanity, thoughts of suicide. (Okay, I'm dramatically exaggerating here, but I think we all know the feeling when a totally legit 3rd-job character gets hacked by some PMSing n00b with no life.) Oh, and for those of you about to say "OMG KAL BUT ITS JUST A GAME GET OVER IT AND GET A LIFE ALRDY LOL.", if that's the best argument you can venture, I highly doubt you should be reading this story in the first place.

To put it simply, I use non-canonicity as a defense mechanism (which is a pretty bad defense mechanism in the majority of my readers' viewpoints, but I really don't care), so if you'd like to comment more on this issue, well and good, but know that I will probably not pay any attention, because I don't want to put you through the indignity and suffering of another 5-page author's note because another couple people didn't get it.

So, in conclusion, I appreciate all of you speaking your minds on this sensitive issue, but PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEFORTHELOVEOFFREAKINGGODDON'TSENDMEANYMORECRAPREGARDINGSPECIALATTACKSORTHEKNSYSTEMWHICHIONLYWROTEANEFFINGPAGEABOUTBUTSTILLGAVEEVERYONEHEMORRHOIDSANYWAYBECAUSEITWASTOONONCANONANDANYWAYIMONLY14ANDTHISISMYFIRSTFANTASYEPICANDANYWAYSITSMYSTORYANDICANDOWHATEVERIWANTTOITANDITSNOTLIKEIMFORCINGYOUTOREADITORANYTHINGSOPLEASEDONTPISSALLOVERTHEFLAMESOFMYCREATIVITYBECAUSETHENI'LLHAVETOGOEMOANDINVENTNEWPLACESONMYBODYFORMYSELFTOCUTSOTHANKYOUALLVERYMUCHANDHAVEAGOODSUMMERLAWL.

**1a. Special Attacks (Joke Section)**

_My greatest thanks to Spiraea Kozak for inspiration for this section, and hope that he/she will not kill me for taking a well-meant suggestion in good fun._

Yeah, yeah, I know everyone hates teh Thunder Spears, but then again I have to do something in the way of melee fights, because bows are boring. One of my kind reviewers, Spiraea Kozak, has politely offered a list of alternative suggestions for me to use, which I will now proceed to mercilessly dismember (Disclaimer: This is a joke intended for personal stress relief and not meant to offend. Please lighten up a little.)

_1. Bow swing_  
I think this has already been used under the name "Power Knock-Back", but as you can tell from the great multitudes of comments that have been pouring in lately, I could be mistaken. I'll remind myself to check later.

_2. Bow boomerang_  
What happens when an Australian archer runs out of arrows exterminating roos on his property but still feels the primal urge to throw a curved stick of wood at wild animals? Well, here's your answer…

_3. Whip lash with half-attached bowstring  
_All right, I'm just going to unfasten this string here and wait for that large, fire-breathing Balrog with bloody claws to come close enough so I can hit it in the face with this string…

_4. Strangling with bowstring  
_Never mind the fact that my spleen's missing from the previous encounter, I think I'll just run up to that thing's face and try to get this string behind its neck and…_OHGAWDMYORGANS!!--_

_(end transmission)_

_5. Cutting with bowstring_  
As soon as I get out of the hospital for emergency organ transplants, I'll take this string again and…

On second thought, maybe I could just use Strafe.

_6. Sonic attacks with bowstring _  
Fear the power of my sonic bowstring! (Holds up dangling, broken string) Yeah! Take that! You're scared now, aren't you?!

_7. Pole vaulting with high tensile bow_  
Because of budget difficulties, organizers at the 2008 Summer Olympics have recently decided to combine two of their events into one. I'll demonstrate. (Running footsteps) Here I go…

**(-!CRACK!-)**

…Uh, guys, could you go get the medical dictionary and look up "stabilizer" and "lung"?

_8. High jumping using bowstring as trampoline_

All right, I'll just put my bow here and jump like so…(-snap-)OWWWW!!!

So much for starting a family now…

_9. Rocket propulsion by blasting the ground _

Flying For Dummies: Plant explosives under your feet and see what happens. Burn insurance sold separately.

_(Ed. Note: I used this in the temporal arte scene when Delly was fighting Llewellyn, but I don't think anyone noticed.)_

_10. Circle strafing_  
I told you already, it's strafing…with circles…oh, never mind.

_11. Firing arrows to block blows _  
Welcome to the special Beran edition of MythBusters, where aspiring author Kal Ancalas will now attempt to find out if it is indeed possible to halt an incoming 200-ton anvil in its tracks simply by firing arrows at it. Remember, kids, don't try this at home.

_12. Using arrows as daggers_  
But I only use Soul Arrow, so I'll have to make a new attack called Soul Dagger or something like that…

Or I would, if everybody wasn't threatening to rip out my kidneys for inventing another "non-canon" attack.

_13. Usage of arrows with altered stabilizers to create warped flight paths_  
If anyone can first tell me (without using Google, Wikipedia, or any reference material whatsoever) what a stabilizer is, much less how to alter one, I'll give them a cookie.

That aside, I appreciate Spiraea Kozak's well thought-out suggestion, but if I may, I suggest a simpler solution for creating different flight paths, known commonly as "aiming".

**2. SEX0rZ-(ahem) Romance**

I might have said this before in a previous author's note, but I'm too lazy to go back and check, so here goes: I sux at writing teh romance.

Without playing the "OMGIMONLY14" card and violently raping Caps Lock in the process like I just did above, I will merely say that certain emotions and circumstantial situations are very difficult to write well without having experienced them previously, such as love. Although my natural charisma and handsome figure have been the talk of the local social circles lately, I have thus far been unable to find a potential mate in this ever-changing world, and thus cannot muster the creative energies to write a decent love scene, so most of my "romance" comes from cheap films and pulp novels that I read on a whim. My apologies, but I still have nine chapters or so to improve, so I'll work on that.

Also, as a side note, the end of this chapter contains some really cheesy/mushy stuff (though nothing that actually requires a parental warning), so you've been warned.

**2a. Delinia Arklanser/Luke Sinclaire**

Yeah, yeah, I KNOW IT WAS RUSHED. Good lord, can't I make two people kiss without having to crap out an endless stream of cheesy, mushy talk and starlit nights in preparation?

All badly worded sarcasm aside, this was one of the most difficult pairings I ever intended to write in the story, mainly because the two don't spend a lot of time together, and very little of what Arklanser thinks of Red-Haired Perv- I mean, Sinclaire isn't shown in the story. I did put some of that in the temporal arte scene, but everybody skipped over it because it was so corny (another five hours of my life I won't be getting back), so no help there.

As with most of the pairings addressed here, I plan to develop the romance in the last few chapters of the story, but then again, this is from the hand of a 14-year old virgin (props to everyone who caught the implied pun), so don't expect any steamy scenes in bed any time soon.

**2b. Ascion Blade/Iris Gaiden**

This isn't so much a pairing as it is a cartoonish experiment in matchmaking by me. Probably to compensate for the fact that I'm a horrible romance author, I made everyone's favorite smart-arse priest hopeless at dealing with girls.

Incidentally, I enjoyed writing interaction between them at the end of this chapter (this is sarcasm).

**3. Chapter Length**

What can I say? I just have more to write about than others (sorry, Chief.)

The reason I made Chapter 20 unbearably long was because I wasn't going to update for a month and wanted to compensate for the wait.

I won't put down how many pages are in this chapter, because I don't want to give people heart attacks, but as stated in the author's note above, I would definitely recommend budgeting your time so that you have at least an hour, preferably an hour and a half, if you want to finish this chapter.

If you'll notice, my chapters keep getting progressively longer, and this is no exception. Mainly, my reason for making this one so long is because I haven't updated for 40 days (travesty!) and wanted to make it up to you all for putting up with my procrastination. Besides, there's a lot I wanted to say in this chapter, and I found it would be too long to put in one chapter and too short to put into two, so I went with the former.

Also, a small unrelated aside to the person who asked: Warriors actually can KS bowmen, if said warrior is level 30+ and has Slash Blast and said bowman is level 10 and doesn't have PKB, as was the case in the first chapter. (Will people _please_ pay attention to details next time before signing their name to comments?)

**4. An Unrelated Tidbit**

At the moment of this writing (August 10, 2007), there are currently 117 Google results for "Kal Ancalas". (Note that 99 percent of these are either from FF as referrals or the Sleepywood forums.)

By the way, I'd like to apologize if there are any grammar/formatting mistakes in this chapter, but you haven't experienced pain until you've spent three hours straight hunched over an obsolete laptop correcting all the bunched-up text, missing punctuation, and broken text styles because FF decided to be a bitch and forced you to upload in plain text, so please cut me a tiny bit of slack here.

Also, this is sort of off-topic, but if anyone could PM me the link to a working KOTOKO - Face of Fact MP3, I would really, really appreciate it.

Thanks, and review.

-Kal Ancalas, 8.10.07

(finally end useless, boring author's note)

* * *

The air siren exploded throughout Ellinia with the force of a bomb, its shrill cry sending shock waves through the veins of every magician sleeping at their desks in the forest city. 

Cries of surprise and shock burst into the air as the biometric defense mechanism broadcast its inevitable message through the city. The news spread at the speed of sound; a large mass of Balrogs had been seen heading due east from Perion, whose communications systems had apparently been all but destroyed. Not even a single message had managed to reach the other cities, save for one.

And now Schuyler Kusanagi had to decide what to do with it.

The fire/poison archmagistress silently sat at her desk and kneaded the grain of the wood against her gloves, sparks cradled in the palm of her hand. With the archmage Grendel away on official business in Henesys-Elaesia (what _that_ meant, she could only guess at), the head of the Ellinian Research Institute suddenly found herself in a very uncomfortable position. At her command, over a thousand specially-trained assault teams could be sent to combat the invaders- but what difference did that make when they were outnumbered nearly five to one?

_I have to do something,_ she told herself silently, a bead of sweat making its way down the back of her neck and melting into the creases of her luminescent flame-colored gown. _I didn't stay up for a week making the gravity arte for nothing, and I'm not about to stop now._

Absentmindedly, her fingers located a scroll curled up on the corner of her desk and automatically unfurled it. She eyed its contents with a half-awake glance- according to the census report she held in her hands, over two thousand battlemages and six hundred temporary thief forces on leave from Kerning City rested in her hands, along with the three couriers that Athena had sent.

It was up to her to seal their fate with a single command- a fact she was unfortunately all too aware of. She felt like the losing player in a game of chess, outnumbered and outmaneuvered until no measure of hope was left.

_We have to survive,_ she repeated in her mind, postponing the inevitable onslaught of death, destruction, and chaos that was sure to come.

She glanced at the clock behind her.

There were twenty minutes left.

A sudden commotion in the hallway outside her office made her raise her head off her desk a fraction of an inch, as her fiery hair bobbed at her shoulders. The sound of the door opening reached her ears as a dark figure stepped across the threshold.

"Good morning." Ascion Blade calmly inclined his head towards the barely-awake magician. "You may need to get up. We'll have one hell of a time dealing with the Balrogs if you're not there to lead us."

"Mm." She blinked groggily in response and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, light diffusing into her pupils. The priest stood silently in front of her, a series of dark-ridged plates buffering his nightshade-colored robe and giving him even more of a dark, forbidding appearance than usual. His Magicodar wand glittered sinisterly at his belt.

"Nice outfit." she finally muttered, having nothing else to say at the moment. "I suppose you'll be all right, then?"

"_I_ am." he replied, with a bland shrug. "I don't know about those two, though…" He inclined his gaze towards the now-opened door, where the source of the commotion was happening.

"Are you kidding me?!" Joseph Stalrigarde exhaled sharply and rumpled a hand through his blonde hair. "This is a freakin' bathrobe!" He cracked his knuckles and balled the corner of his left sleeve in his fist. "If I have to kill bloodthirsty demons, I'd rather not do it looking like this!"

"You don't have to worry." Iris Gaiden calmly brushed a hand through her emerald hair and buttoned the straps of her ivory-colored brocade jacket as though she were doing nothing more than attending a social event. "It's not like there's anything for them to see anyway."

The alchemist turned a nasty shade of puce. "Shut up." He calmly pressed his fingers together and laid them over his chest, whispering "Alchemist." A flash of blue light covered his form as an alchemic glyph spread across his figure, the fabric of his robe seeming to melt over his body. When he removed his palms, the robe had transmuted itself into a flexible hauberk-like garment.

Ascion raised an eyebrow in slightly impressed amusement. "I hope you have time to make fashion statements on the battlefield."

"Be that as it may," Schuyler tiredly announced, drawing herself up to her full height and hiding a yawn underneath her expression, "the only thing I can say is don't take unnecessary risks. We can't afford to lose any more people than we have to."

This dismal statement was met by a chime from the antique clock hanging on the wall. The fire mage threw a furious glare at it before silently sinking back into her chair with an emotionless expression. "You should go out. We have about fifteen minutes left until- you know." She waved the three out of her office and locked the door behind them with a silent incantation.

Ascion eyed the door with a dark expression. "She's cheerful today."

"Like somebody we all know." Iris replied shrewdly, causing the priest to blanch lightly. "Let's go."

A calm breeze met them as they stepped outside of the dim, lifeless research facility and into the Ellinian sunshine, bright and warm against their weary bodies. However, they had no time to enjoy it- the serene atmosphere was broken by the sound of marching as hundreds of magicians with stark, emotionless expressions filed past, weapons at their sides.

Ascion opened his mouth to say something, but his words were drowned out by the shriek of the air-raid siren, and he settled for nervously fingering a curved spike on his shoulder guard.

Iris turned towards him. "Did you say something?" she asked, in a surprisingly gentle tone. Oddly enough, he could hear her voice clearly over the scream of the siren- he suddenly realized that she had cast an arcane arte over them to drown out all other noise in their vicinity.

"I didn't say anything." Ascion muttered, neatly sliding his left hand into his pocket as he turned his face slightly away from the older mage.

"You said something." she replied curtly, refusing to back down. "I heard the words 'Ark' and 'Zeraion."

The mention of his older brothers' names sent the priest into a brooding silence. "Yes- I did." he finally concurred, after a drawn length of time. "So what if I did?"

"It's very unusual of you," Iris murmured, choosing her words carefully, "to, um, show affection towards anyone."

"They…" Ascion calmly replied, plucking his Magicodar from his belt and twirling it between his fingers for a brief moment, "…are my brothers, Iris." He raised his head upwards and stared into the sky, a single wisp of cloud streaking the landscape.

"I know what you mean." she whispered, following his gaze upwards. "I wish my older brother was here, too." A wistful expression crossed her face for a moment as her hair fluttered at her shoulders and waist.

His eyes darted back to earth and met hers for a brief second before the moment was lost, and they became simple pawns in the game of war once more.

Because of their position as commanding officers, they should have been at the frontlines of the guard, but then again Schuyler had warned them not to take unnecessary risks, and putting themselves in excessive danger would not help matters. Ascion finally compromised by finding a rank near the midsection of mages, while Iris took a position one line behind him and Joe one several feet ahead.

There was a swishing noise behind him and Ascion barely had time to catch the hem of Schuyler's blood-crimson and gold gown before it vanished towards the front of the large contingent of fighters. At the appearance of the understudy to the leader of Ellinia, the large bickering crowd fell silent, leaving the great forest feeling eerily empty at that moment.

"Attention." Schuyler's voice resonated over the silent trees as the units raised their heads in preparation. "There's not much I can say at this point. You all know very well that a group of Crimson Balrogs about five times our number is flying our way and are about to wipe us out in five minutes." Her words hung over the mages' heads ominously like swords hanging on slender threads.

Suddenly, her voice grew louder and stronger, more resourceful, more determined. "You all know that this is our home. We've had it destroyed once before and we all know what happened that time. I don't want to see half our population dead and the other half dying. We're not heroes. We can't- and we won't be able to all survive today." Her voice paused for the slightest fraction of a second before it rose up again. "but we have to fight. For our families, for our homes, and for this world. For our _future!_"

Her words were met with a massive storm of cheering as countless mages and thieves raised their weapons to the sky. "Yes! For our world and our future!" Caught by the euphoric mentality sweeping the ranks, Ascion relinquished his self-control and let out a savage battle cry that quickly carried far across the thousands behind him.

There was an explosion-like noise as lightning suddenly arced across the clear sky, which quickly began to darken as an eerie shadow spread across it. Clenching the sleek handle of his wand so hard his knuckles turned white, Ascion sucked in his breath and watched as a series of black specks suddenly dotted the sky, which grew steadily larger by the second, wings unfurled and claws bared in a storm of destruction and death.

The Crimson Balrogs had arrived at last.

* * *

Ark Wolfen's steps thudded lifelessly against the ground as he pulled himself across the soft loam of the Sleepywood forest. 

"How- much farther is it?" he managed to growl before he forced himself to lean on a tree for support.

Two paces behind him, Dariel Marron gave an emotionless shrug. "A couple more hours, give or take. With the most recent battle, our current rate of speed will be slowed even more."

"That's nice to hear." The axe-crusader resolutely steeled himself and continued on, his insides shifting uncomfortably in the metal shell that was his cuirass. Every step seemed like its own eternity when he walked, yet, when strung together, the pace was somehow relaxing in its own way.

Trying to keep himself from fainting or throwing up, whichever came first, Ark put a hand to his temples and let his fingers slide down to the base of his shoulder, leaving a dark melange trail of dried blood. His fingertips touched something hard and cold and he opened his eyes to find he was clutching Ascion's pendant.

_Ascion…_

The thought of his younger brother alone in Elaesia left a slightly bitter taste in Ark's mouth, and he forced himself to solder on, keeping a firm grip on his neck that looked oddly like he was going to strangle himself.

"Wolfen." The Paladin's voice broke the dismal silence. "As much as I'd like to see you die a horrible death by asphyxiation, I would rather leave that to the Taurospears."

"Shut up." the latter growled, in a less-than-amicable voice. "I was thinking of- Elaesia."

"I see." The blonde-haired swordsman contemplated the trees around them for a moment before slowly sinking back into his usual silent posture. Ark sighed inwardly at the dismal atmosphere, the dark, shadowed trees reflecting off his current state of mind.

"Is something bothering you?" Lisande asked a few steps off to the side. Ark raised his head to look at the princess before finally tearing his gaze away from her. "Nothing."

Lisande faintly raised an arched eyebrow and looked cautiously at Ark before turning her attention to Ryden and Marron, lazily marching off to the side, and shooting them a serious look. Both swordsmen exchanged dubious glances before inclining their heads and slowing their pace, allowing the princess to talk privately with the wild-haired crusader.

"Ark." Lisande's voice awakened the axeman from his resolutely slow pace. "What troubles you?"

"Perion being on fire, perhaps?" the latter replied, in a slightly colder tone than was intended.

Lisande exhaled and gently reminded herself to be a little more patient. "You're not thinking of Perion. It's something else- something much closer to your heart." Her raven-blue eyes gently met his for a moment before they turned away.

"How did you figure that out?" Ark muttered, somewhat rhetorically. Lisande watched him unclench his fingers from around a small pendant hanging about his neck, after which he ran his fingers across a large rift in his cuirass. "I'm thousands of miles away from my home-"

"Ten." she corrected, at which he pretended not to hear. "-and for all I know, some madman's attacking the city of Perion, which happens to be in close proximity to the city of Ellinia, which happens to be where my brother is stationed right now."

"Ah." Lisande opened her mouth a fraction of an inch before she closed it. "Sibling love."

"It's nothing like that!" Ark snapped, in a slightly more brusque tone that he should have used. Lisande blinked, and he took a breath before running his knuckles across his forehead. "Sorry. It's…I really don't have anything to be worried about, after all…I mean, he is sixteen, and he has Iris to take care of him…" He laughed humorlessly before going on. "But, you know, I'm just used to that sort of thing. It's hard to believe that whiny brat grew up to become one of the most skilled magic-users in the history of Bera…"

"Hm." Lisande couldn't resist a small smile herself. "Your parents probably raised him well- as they did you."

She meant it as innocuous conversation, but she knew she'd said something wrong when she heard the crusader's breathing cease abruptly for a moment. "Ark, what-"

"It's nothing." His raven-black eyes blinked several times in the direction of the sky before he turned away, silently scrutinizing the trees as they walked.

The elven princess was shrewd enough to deduce what had happened from his expression. "What happened?" she asked, in a compassionate tone.

Ark directed his gaze to the forest floor and clenched his teeth. "My…my mother died giving birth to my brother." He exhaled sharply and twisted his palms behind his back.

Lisande instantly became quiet, a shadow falling over her face. "Oh, Ark, I'm sorry." she whispered, laying a hand on his cracked shoulder guard.

He gently pushed her away. "It doesn't matter, Lady. He's still my brother, and I don't blame him. I can't." He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, his pupils gazing at the treetops. "How much time until we reach Elaesia?"

"Three- three and a half hours." she replied, a tiny trace of something- could it be emotion?- coming into her voice.

"Thank you." Ark replied starkly, before turning his attention back to Marron, who had inexplicably moved up to his original position among the ranks. "Dariel."

"What?" Marron said, in a slightly caustic tone. "I'd like to help you, Wolfen, I really would, but unfortunately, I have no experience with lovers' quarrels-"

"Cut your crap!" Ark snapped, rumpling his hair erratically; the Paladin seemed slightly surprised at the outburst. Shaking his head, Ark put a hand to his temples. "Sorry. It's just that I've been on a loose end since we saw the smoke over Perion-"

"That isn't all that's loose, Wolfen." Marron muttered under his breath, but Ark had enough tact to pretend not to hear.

"Look, I really would like to listen to more of your idiotic sarcasm, but some other time, okay?" He exhaled sharply and chewed on the tip of his tongue. "I need you to do me a favor. As a friend."

The swordsman raised an eyebrow, strands of golden hair fluttering across his forehead as his massive blade hung dangerously across his back in its regal sheath.

"What kind of favor?"

* * *

The sky over Elaesia was calm and serene, fluffy strips of cloud boiling over the calm afternoon sky as wind gusted over the dry plains. The scene was picturesque more than anything as leaves danced through the air and the grass fluttered in the wind. The surrounding land looked as though it had been freshly taken from an artist's canvas, various hues of color splashed over the landscape. 

However, Colonel Reneas Aries of Alpha Division, Epsilon Regiment had no particular interest for nature whatsoever.

"Strafe!" he commanded, raising his sapphire-colored Metus bow into the air and releasing the string; with a vibrant twang, four bolts of light splintered from the limbs of the winged weapon and lanced through the air before neatly piercing through the center of a target approximately a thousand feet away.

Reneas lowered his bow and closed his eyes as the wind strew his hair messily across his face. He wiped his forehead and turned to the rest of his platoon. "Let's see how well you can do." he ordered in a curt tone, neatly sheathing his bow in his quiver.

There were mutters and the sound of gutstrings twanging as the bowmen lined up behind him readied their weapons, raising them into the air. With a collective shout of "Strafe!", several hundred spectral arrows knifed through the sky and buried themselves at the far end of the shooting range.

Reneas lifted his eyes to examine the results and sighed balefully when he saw that only about half the projectiles had managed to hit their marks. "For your sake, I sincerely hope you don't slack off when training. Just because Colonel Sinclaire's getting laid tonight doesn't mean he'll be any less pissy when he sees that aim of yours." There were snickers at the colonel's remark about his colleague, but Reneas only allowed himself the faintest of smiles before he turned back to the strip, all business. "Let's practice your elemental abilities now." he said, as he aimed his Metus and yanked back the string, red-hot flame glowing at his fingertips. "Inf-"

"Colonel Aries!" a voice abruptly shouted, and Reneas accidentally misfired, sending a bolt of flame into a small clump of brush several yards away, causing it to ignite with a loud retort. A random sniper quickly raised his crossbow in response and commanded "Blizzard!", sending a cloud of ice in the direction of the blaze. There was a loud hiss as steam rose over the troops, the flames extinguished.

Reneas nodded a quick thanks before turning his attention to the source of the voice, which, surprisingly enough, turned out to be Athena, her silvery gown and copper-shaded hair billowing in the breeze. "Can I help you, Athena?" he nodded politely.

The bowmistress sighed. "I was merely wondering if you knew where Colonel Sinclaire is right now." She did not blink or pause as she posed her request. "There is an urgent matter that I would like him to take care of."

Reneas considered the question for a brief moment before disinterestedly replying, "Haven't seen him. He's probably in his dorm right now."

"Thank you, Aries." Athena inclined her head for a brief moment before she turned in the direction of the Alpha Division barracks, her footsteps echoing in the breeze.

Reneas' eyes followed her before he noticed that the activity behind him had ceased to a standstill. "What are you waiting for? Get moving." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the archery strip.

Seeing everybody spring to attention, Reneas silently turned his back on the units and stared up into the sky.

"He'd better not have her in his room when Athena comes." he mused faintly, before turning back and casting his hawk-like gaze over the rest of Epsilon Regiment.

---

Meanwhile, the very colonel that Athena was seeking was indeed sitting cross-legged on the bed of his dormitory, silently gazing at the nondescript bedsheets. Every once in a while, he would run a hand through his dark auburn hair and give a baleful sigh.

Delinia Arklanser was in the room with him.

She said nothing as he brooded to himself, but rather watched him with her eyes, calm orbs of crimson within the dim walls of the officer's room.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Colonel Luke Sinclaire turned his gaze towards the woman sitting opposite him upon the bed, her flame-colored hair draped over her back like a cloak. "Is there anything I can do for you, Delinia?"

"No, thank you, Luke," she replied calmly, but even the ranger could tell that she was lying- despite her words, she seemed uncomfortable, as though there was something gnawing at her mind that she desperately wanted to say.

She finally said it five minutes after Sinclaire feigned disinterest in her and turned his gaze back to the whitewashed ceiling of his dorm.

"Why?"

Sinclaire blinked and cocked his head towards the rangeress. "Excuse me?"

Her gaze sharpened as her crimson eyes met his. "Why, Luke? Why, of all people, did you have to fall in love with me?" There was something in her tone- something he couldn't quite place, but sounded almost like regret.

Sinclaire blinked for a split second before he quickly assumed a casual expression. "I should be asking you that question. You're the one who kissed me in front of practically everyone I know- which, by the way, isn't going to help my standing when I go on evening patrol tonight." he added, somewhat sardonically.

"I have my reasons, Luke, but I'd like to hear yours first." she replied softly. He sighed and mentally untied the knot in his stomach- he both loved it and hated it when she used his first name to address him.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he whispered quietly, his voice a wisp of sound in the nearly-empty room. The words sounded so corny- why, he thought, did everything he say in the way of romance sound painfully overused- but he made the most of them by brushing aside his hair and fixing his gaze directly on the object of his affection.

Arklanser opened her mouth a slight crack for a reply and shut it immediately after, intently gazing at him. She murmured something under her breath to herself, but Sinclaire either couldn't or pretended not to hear.

"Look, Delinia-" He busied his right hand with wiping another handful of auburn hair from his face while he considered what to say. "I know this sounds cliché, but you've got to believe me. When I first saw you, I was…well, it wasn't under the best of circumstances." he finished lamely, remembering their first awkward meeting in the walls of Athena's office. "But when I laid eyes on you, I knew…I knew there was something special about you- something I couldn't find in anyone else." He sighed and tousled his hair, gazing upwards into the nondescript ceiling. "It- it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

She blanched ever so slightly at his unintentionally double-edged words, but he didn't see it. "Even after the incident with the ring, that hasn't changed anything, because I…I still like you a lot." he faltered, wisps of pink creeping up his cheeks. "Goddess, I feel so embarrassed right now." he muttered quietly to himself.

Surprisingly, she shuffled closer to him and took ahold of his hand, the one that had been ruffling his hair moments ago. "You don't need to be." she sighed. "I suppose I didn't receive such a great first impression from you when we first met. I thought you were a colossal pervert, but…" She fiddled lightly with her fingers as he turned a shade of pale pink. "I guess you do have a heart under all of that, Luke." she gently whispered, touching a hand to his uniformed jacket.

Sweating profusely, the ranger silently pushed away the urge to hug her and settled for lying back on his bed. "That's nice to hear." He lapsed into quiet thought as he chewed the tip of his tongue, wondering what to say next.

He thought of what Tales and Igzarion had told him in the conference room- so long ago, it seemed- and he wanted badly to embrace her and tell her he understood, but that would require an explanation of how and why he knew her secret in the first place, and he didn't feel like putting himself through that.

"So," he finally found himself saying, to break the ice, "why the sudden change of heart?"

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, raising an arched eyebrow in slight surprise.

"You know perfectly well what I mean." he replied, holding his dark crystalline ring up to the light and examining it. "Why, after you came back, did you suddenly feel the urge to-" He broke off the end of his sentence, but Arklanser knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

"You mean when I destroyed your social standing in Elaesia some minutes ago?" she replied bluntly, tossing a handful of her crimson hair behind her back.

"You don't have to put it like that." he muttered, chewing on his lower lip.

"If you really must know, Luke…" She sighed and turned her gaze towards the ceiling as well, wondering whether to tell him the truth or not. It was some time before she spoke, in a barely audible voice.

"…It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

His face softened slightly before he turned away from her and stared down at the bedsheets, at which she followed suit. There was no need for words anymore; what needed to be said had already been said.

After what seemed like an eternity, he shifted his glance to the glittering stone on his finger, its facets shining sinisterly in the afternoon light. "Delinia- I'm sorry." he muttered quickly, referring to the fiasco with the ring that had erupted a couple of weeks ago. "I…I didn't know-"

"I know you didn't." she replied, in an unmistakably tender voice, as she gently caressed the hand adorned with the jewelry.

He sighed balefully and reluctantly withdrew his hand from her touch. "I…I had been meaning to give this ring to you as a present." he said, his pulse shooting through his veins. "But if it bothers you, I won't-"

She silently touched a finger to his lips and plucked the ring from his hand, her fingers caressing the cool crystal. "No, Luke. It's okay." She silently held the jewel up to the light, examining it minutely. "After twelve years, I can let it go now."

He silently let his head fall back with a thump onto his pillow, breathing heavily. Just a couple weeks ago, she had been intent on burying him several feet under the ground, and now here she was, having already kissed him and was now sitting in front of him.

_What else is new?_ he silently thought as he reached out and fingered a strand of her long hair.

He got his answer all too soon when he felt her hand- adorned with the ring- being pressed back into his palm.

"Luke…" He tilted his head upwards a fraction of an inch to see her intently gazing at him. "I know this sounds all too sudden, and I've barely known you for a couple of weeks, but…" For the first time in his life, he saw her cheeks blush a shade of deep, beautiful rose, as she clasped their hands together and stared intently into his eyes.

"…I'd like to get engaged."

* * *

_"Final Attack!" _

The words pierced through the air with determination and excitement as a bolt of white-hot energy pulsed through the island forest, shooting along the ground with the speed of a bullet and colliding head-on with a large lizard-like beast. It barely had time to make a sound before its body exploded, showering a large portion of the now-scorched vegetation with still-smoking flecks of charred ash.

Zeraion Phoenix let his arms drop to his sides and surveyed the smoldering wreckage with a unique half-disgusted, half-satisfied look plastered upon his face. "Far cry from a few years back, huh, Athos?"

The limbs of the Abyssal Arund shone merrily in the sun, as they always did. _I've only known you for a negligible amount of time, dragon child._

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Zeraion gave his usual look of exasperation at the ancient bowmaster's words.

As usual, the sleek, dark weapon made no reply.

"Never mind." Zeraion silently plucked the string of the Abyssal Arund and was pleased to find it held. "It seems incredible to believe, but I actually haven't used Final Attack for quite a while-_  
_

_ You seemed more interested in swinging that glowing stick of yours._

Zeraion blanched lightly as Athos' retort echoed in his ears. "Shut up. I don't particularly like using a spear, you know- I was born and raised an archer. But Gardner said it would be useful for tight situations and I suppose I might as well take his advice." He sighed and rumpled his hair. "Sometimes, I wonder why I'm stranded on this- island." He paused, refraining from using a word he knew he would regret, and continued. "If it weren't for Gardner, I would have flied back to Elaesia weeks ago."

_Rathias Gardner is a Bowmaster, Zeraion. _The capitalization of the title was apparent even in the spirit's tone._ They do not grow on trees- you know as well as I that he, Aethenea, and Gault are the last three remaining fourth-class bowmen that reside upon Bera. If he were to suggest that you forego your ranged tactics for some time and practice your abilities in close combat, you would be hard-pressed to find a reason to doubt him._

"I know, I know." Zeraion flicked his fingers, but only a single spark made its way into the air before it fizzled out. "When…when the island switched position, I was so pissed. I wanted to fly all the way across the ocean and get back to my brothers, but I couldn't. It just feels wrong, to be living in the lap of luxury while countless others are dying thousands of miles away."_  
_

_ Spoken like a true bowman. _The phantasmic voice washed over Zeraion for a moment before it floated away. _Now, I suggest you practice Final Attack a bit more. It is your only-_

"-hope of kicking Gault's ugly ass and saving the world, I know." Zeraion muttered somewhat dryly, bringing the Abyssal Arund back to his shoulders and aiming its sight at the hind of another large lizard-beast. "Double Shot!"

The simple technique sent a pair of twin bolts flying at the monster, hitting their mark with loud retorts. Angrily, the creature swung its gigantic neck to catch a glimpse of its attacker, but Zeraion was quicker; with a second retort of the string, he charged forward. "Final Attack!"

There was a loud explosion as the wayward energy refocused itself and sent itself barreling like a missile into the reptile's chest. With a groan, it staggered and collapsed to the forest floor; Zeraion examined its badly wounded body before deciding to end its life with a merciful arrow through the heart.

"That…was weird." he muttered, flecks of ash crumbling between his fingers.

_In what way?_

"I haven't used Double Shot for an eternity now." He silently looked at the corpse once more before turning around and walking through the forest. "But now that I have once more, it just felt…so much more powerful. It didn't feel anything like the time I was at Fire Boars and met Grace-"

The effect was instantaneous. It felt as though someone had punched him in the chest with a gauntlet made of ice, as he wordlessly reeled of the shock that her name gave him.

Even though he didn't want to admit it, he still clung to the single hope that there just might- after the whole mess with Gault attacking Victoria,_ might _be a way to save her soul and bring her to life.

_Zeraion._ For once, Athos' tone was gentle, like that of a parent's. _You cannot._

"What do you know?!" A moment of rage pulsed through the ranger's veins. "Even if Gault is a lying, stinking bastard, I still believe him! I'll torture his guts out and nail him to a cross if I have to, but I will get Grace back, and you won't stop me!"

There was a moment of silence as Zeraion realized the enormity of what he had said. He opened his mouth for an apology and shut it halfway. Even if he had overreacted, every word he had just said was true.

He loved her, and he would save her no matter what, even if it cost him his own life.

It seemed a year before Athos spoke. _I won't. But you must remember that her soul will do you no good if you cannot stop Gault Isentryx from annihilating Elaesia._

For the second time, Zeraion started a reply and did not finish, his mouth hanging open by a millimeter as he trodded on towards the waterfall with bow in hand.

It was the way that Athos had spoke that most struck him- for the first time, he thought he could hear the faintest trace of regret in the ancient spirit's voice, as though he was sharing the pain and heartache that he himself was experiencing at this very moment.

As he walked, he suddenly remembered a single sentence Athos had said to him, whether it be from days or weeks past he did not know.

_Please, Zeraion…for the sake of the world, do not make the same mistakes I did._

Zeraion fell completely silent, both physically and mentally, but as he walked, he could not help wondering for the faintest moment of time whether the legendary Asthathos Rindelasca had ever loved another.

-----

When they returned to the waterfall, as expected, Rathias Gardner was waiting for them with his arms folded, leaning against a large, gnarled tree. The limbs of his Shinebow, still resting in its quiver, gleamed in the sunlight for a moment.

"I trust you had a good excursion, then?" Gardner chose to ignore the streaks of ash and blood that lined his student's expression.

Zeraion wiped his forehead with his gloved knuckles. "Yes."

"So, you can use Final Attack with third-class artes, such as Strafe and Inferno. Am I correct?" Gardner's voice was somewhat urgent, as if he wanted to get the conversation over with as soon as possible.

Zeraion blinked, a little unnerved by the bowmaster's tone, but replied once more with "Yes."

The muscles in Rathias Gardner's face seemed to relax a little before he spoke. "Good. I remembered seeing you practice on the grounds of Henesys. In that case, we will save valuable time moving on to the next part of our…training."

"And that would be…?" Zeraion asked tentatively, his curiosity aroused.

Gardner closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them, his cobalt-blue pupils cutting into Zeraion's gaze. He shuddered and blinked- he both revered and feared the bowmaster's stare at the same time.

"I would like to see if you've been practicing your techniques, Phoenix." Gardner said, in a polite, conversational tone. For a second, Zeraion expected him to command "Puppet!" and summon several doppelgangers for him to violently destroy, but instead, he drew out his Shinebow and strung it.

"Your objective," Gardner said, as he deftly tied a silvery-red length of cord about the tips of his dragon-emblazoned weapon, "is to survive for as long as you can upon Silver Hawk. I will be aiming attacks at you from below. It is your job to dodge them in midair. While I will not be aiming to kill, I strongly advise you to keep a clear head when flying. Oh, and don't fly too high." he added, in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe his student's nerves.

Zeraion gulped, his mouth dry, and nodded. "Yes, Gardner." As he silently drew a blue-tinted summoning stone from the pouch hanging on his belt, he tasted bile and forced himself to keep from being sick. He had used his summoning techniques, using the hawk to fly reconnaissance over the island for training spots, but did Gardner honestly expect him to actually survive more than a minute a hundred feet in the sky?

_I guess it'll have to come to this eventually,_ Zeraion thought, as he clenched his fingers about the cool, blue stone in his palm. "Silver Hawk!"

There was a flash of white light as he felt the familiar rush of fatigue wash over him- he had never really gotten used to artificial summoning- and a loud shriek as the great bird materialized in front of its master, sedately pecking and clawing the ground.

Adrenaline quickly replacing blood in his veins, Zeraion seized ahold of the hawk's feathers and yanked himself onto its back, his bow balanced awkwardly upon his back. He lay low, his stomach pressing against its arched figure, and eyed Gardner calmly gazing at him, his bow drawn and strung.

"Any time you're ready, Phoenix." Gardner's voice was cool and calculating- the same one he had used in the chess game, he suddenly realized.

His throat feeling like sandpaper, Zeraion nodded briefly before digging his heels into the hawk's sides, and he felt himself rise into the air as the lustrous green shade of the trees quickly gave way to serene azure sky.

His only warning was a shout of "Strafe!" before he heard the noise of arrows flying upward to intercept him. Without thinking, he jerked the creature's neck to the side, and it gave a loud cry as it veered sharply to the right, the spectral bolts nearly hitting him.

Panting profusely at his narrow escape, Zeraion blinked and forced his gaze towards the ground, where Gardner lay in wait, his bow raised. Swallowing and forcing himself to get over his vertigo, he carefully gauged the bowmaster's minute movements upon the ground, mentally calculating where the next attack would strike.

There was a shout of "Inferno!" as a sudden plume of flame exploded through the air, its heat nearly searing Zeraion's cheeks. He had survived by guiding the great bird several yards upward, its talons barely feet away from the blazing onslaught.

From above, he examined Gardner's face, but could not tell whether the expression on his features was satisfaction or disappointment. He waited a second too long, for in the next second the bowmaster raised his weapon upwards. "Strafe!"

The arrows came faster than he could think, and he quickly jammed his heel into the bird's side, not caring which direction it flew. It gave a shriek of pain, and he opened his eyes a crack to see that one of Gardner's arrows had struck the very edge of its wing, a few silvery feathers drifting to the ground below.

Gritting his teeth, Zeraion drew the Abyssal Arund from his back and quickly strung it. As Gardner raised his bow for yet another assault, Zeraion raised his as well.

"Strafe!" Two voices rang out as one as a storm of spectral bolts flew from both archers' bows, the sky being crosshatched by the sharp edges of eight arrows. Two of Zeraion's arrows impacted against Gardner's in midair, both ricocheting off each other and dissipating; Zeraion quickly maneuvered out of the way of the other two with a short dive.

"Impressive." The boom of the bowmaster's voice rang through the sky. "So you do know some basic aerial maneuvers, at the very least." He calmly examined his target in the sky before raising his bow. "Strafe!"

Zeraion quickly strafed to the side to avoid the bolts, but nearly felt his heart explode when he saw Gardner's bow leveled at him once more, tracking his every movement. Knowing there would be no time to dodge, he reached inside himself for a quick spell and cried "Guardian!" in desperation.

An emerald-colored barrier surrounded him for the faintest of moments before the arrows crashed against it. Zeraion felt something like a migraine rip through his head as his protection was forcibly broken by the assault, but he noticed that the arrows had been deflected just enough to miss him.

He could hear Gardner click his tongue on the ground below, obviously impressed. "Well done, Zeraion." There was a moment's pause between the two, both eyeing the other, before Gardner suddenly raised his bow and roared, "Arrow Rain!"

_ Oh. Shit._ There was a whistling sound as hundreds of shimmering sapphire bolts cut through the air like raindrops, and Zeraion knew the end was coming fast. In a desperate attempt to evade the incoming attacks, he tightened his grip on the hawk's neck and whispered, "Down." Obediently, mindful of incoming danger, the hawk dived.

Too fast.

He saw the ground coming up to meet him, the grass and dirt becoming closer and closer by the second, until an almighty impact burst through him as pain rippled through the fibers of his muscles. Bright light obscuring his vision, Zeraion clutched his head in his hands and staggered to his feet, wildly stumbling around as he struggled to regain control of himself.

Once the pain in his head abated somewhat, he opened his eyes and saw the visage of Rathias Gardner swimming into his field of view. He shook his head and blinked, and saw that the world had stopped spinning, although a lingering ache still remained from impact.

"I appreciate the effort, Phoenix." Gardner's stiletto voice floated through the murky haze of his jumbled thoughts. "However, I may humbly suggest that there are better ways to avoid an incoming Arrow Rain assault than dive-bombing yourself into the ground."

Muttering a mixed stream of swearwords and complaints, Zeraion hobbled to the side of the waterfall and knelt at the edge of the tide pool, hoping that the cold water would bring his head some much-needed relief.

He plunged his head under the water, and suddenly he saw a flash of light in its depths. Astonished, his eyes abruptly flew open, and through the clear water, he could see blonde hair, a warm expression, and beautiful eyes of lovely sky-blue…

_"Grrcccfffcff!!"_ The scream exploded underwater, bubbles erupting from his mouth as he cried out her name. He nearly fell over into the water, his hands wildly reaching out for her- but the next moment, she was gone, and his need for air was making itself apparent as sirens went off in his brain.

There was a noise like a balloon violently deflating as he surfaced, drawing great lungfuls of fresh air into himself and breathing heavily, as water dribbled from his hair and face into the ground below. He blinked and frantically rubbed at his eyes, staring intently at the clear water, but no face greeted him other than his own.

"Grace…" he repeated softly, his voice slightly waterlogged as he stared forlornly at the great waterfall, her eyes still visible to him in its depths.

* * *

**"The Crimson Balrogs are here!!"  
**  
Ascion knew not whether it was his own voice or somebody else's that shouted out the desperate statement, but he knew he had to follow battle orders, and his instincts from years past fighting the Balrogs with his brothers on the deck of the airship from El Nath kicked into overdrive as he raised his Magicodar to the sky and let loose a fierce war-cry. Behind and ahead of him, he could see Joe and Iris rushing forward without even a sideways glance at him as they prepared to unleash the full measure of their power upon the demons that threatened their homelands. 

"Assault teams 667-1000, retreat and provide tactical support from the rear!" Schuyler's voice bolted through the forest with the dexterity and urgency of a wild deer, and the magicians behind them heard. With loud roars and cries, they raised their weapons to the sky and aimed the full force of their arcane knowledge at the demonic invaders. A maelstrom of flame bolts, ice beams, lightning bursts, and holy blades streamed through the air before meeting the head of the Balrog forces head-on. There were roars of pain as the artes hit their mark, several corpses dropping to the ground.

After their shock at being hit by the initial assault, the Balrogs quickly regrouped and began to launch themselves with all their might at the Ellinian defensive line, guarded by hundreds of magic-wielding mages and sorcerers. Deadly sparks and bolts flew through the air as the magicians' elemental techniques met with the force of the Balrogs' necromancy, many a corpse flying through the air as explosions quickly seared the landscape.

As Ascion charged forward, his wand glowing with immense power, he abruptly saw the person in front of him shriek as a bolt of lightning struck him head-on, sending his limp body flying aside like a useless puppet. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Ascion jammed his wand upwards and commanded, "Shining Ray!" A brilliant flash of blue-white light lit up the landscape as the holy arte struck the Balrog in the face. It gave a ear-splitting howl as it fell to the ground, blood soaking the ground.

Ascion silently regarded his fallen prey, but there was no time to think as another Balrog lunged at him. He quickly detected the disturbance and dive-rolled across the ground, the demon's claws raking the ground where he had been moments ago. Before it could retaliate, he raised a palm and roared, "Eclair de Larmes!"

A brilliant cross appeared upon his palm before a similar symbol was etched under the ground at the demon's feet. Before it could register what was going on, the holy spell detonated, a column of light blasting through the air as another life was forfeit to the ravages of war. Ascion took a moment to brush flecks of ash off his cloak before charging forward once more, his voice blending in with the countless hundreds that stood off against the Balrogs.

Nearly avoiding being decapitated by the claws of another Balrog moments later, Ascion flexed his wrist and commanded, "Prism Lancer!" The wing-tipped javelin materialized in his palm in a blinding flash of light; with surprising dexterity, he flung the lance through the air, ripping through three Balrogs before dissipating into mana once more. At the death of its comrades, a fourth demon lunged at him, its claws coming close to piercing his face, but he flicked his wand and commanded, "Magic Guard!"

There was a crashing noise as the claws rent against his invisible shield, just inches from his body. Wincing as a brief fatigue washed over him from impact, he clenched his teeth and thrust out his arm, commanding, "Shining Ray!" A blinding burst of light, another blood-curdling shriek, and the Balrog had joined its allies in the halls of purgatory as well. However, there was no time to rest, as there were still countless numbers of the winged menaces flying across the sky, as they raised their claws and sent meteors hurtling upon the unfortunate magicians that lay below.

Aiming to strike down the aerial bombers that the demons were using, Ascion raised a palm and closed his eyes, white motes of light dancing around him as he prepared his attack. Narrowly avoiding being struck down by a burst of dark lightning, his eyes blazed with fury as he unleashed his arte. "Photonic Ray!"

The attack, burning with more might and radiance than a normal Shining Ray, exploded through the air and neatly pierced a straight line through the sky, bringing down all unfortunate enough to be in its wake. Unfortunately, one spell could not stand against multitudes of invaders, and the Balrogs retaliated through sheer numbers, meteoric explosions rocking the landscape as corpses were strewn through the air.

Through the chaos and disorder, he could dimly hear Schuyler roaring, "Assault teams 1 through 500, lead a direct attack at the frontlines!" A gigantic cheer met her words as the magicians surged forward to intercept the Balrogs, racing through the air in groups of two or three. A magician brought down a Balrog with a roar of "Explosion!" as his teammate enveloped him in the protective shine of a Bless spell. Even thieves were joining their numbers, as Ascion suddenly remembered the reserve forces from Kerning City.

Using a quick Heal spell to soothe his minor cuts and bruises, Ascion leapt into the fray with renewed strength, his wand flashing as it took out one foe after another with lethal bursts of blinding white light. No attack could faze him as he shielded himself with Bless, Invincible, and Magic Guard, and yet the demons kept coming, threatening to annihilate them all if by sheer numbers alone.

Indeed, as Ascion glanced around, he suddenly found himself surrounded by three snarling Crimson Balrogs, their claws and eyes focused on him menacingly as he stared them down. Weighing his options, the priest felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. He could easily wipe out one or two of them, but three-

"Lancreaver!" a voice roared, and Ascion blinked to see the trio of Balrogs suddenly viciously impaled through the chests as gigantic spears of ice burst forth from the ground without warning. Brushing ash and sweat from his temples, he looked around to see Iris, perspiration decorating her hair and head as the fangs of her Kage glowed dimly.

"Thanks." he muttered shortly, flicking a few strands of hair from his face. "You're all right, then?"

She grunted in response, her silver-colored jacket already streaked with ash and blood from fighting. It contrasted sharply against his own night-colored armor. "Absolute's beyond the scope of my abilities, so this is the best I can do." she said, somewhat humbly, brushing flecks of viscera from her emerald locks.

Ascion took a moment from the fighting to eye her strangely. "Three Balrogs in one hit, and you say that's the best you can do?"

Her eyes gave him a half-amused, half-annoyed look. "Prove me wrong, Brigadier General Blade." she muttered, and then she was gone as she vanished in a flash of blue light.

With nothing left to focus his attention on, Ascion ducked as a set of razor-sharp claws flashed over his head, and cried out, "Starburst!" The air seemed to ripple for a moment before it exploded in a burst of dazzling light, sending bits and pieces of dismembered demon flying. Ascion shielded his face from the explosion and winced as a wet chunk of something hit his sleeve with a thud, dark crimson fluid dripping from its edge.

"Disgusting." he muttered, shaking his sleeve- however, he nearly ended up losing his arm when a bolt of lightning cut through the air near him, so close it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. In retaliation, he raised a palm and slashed through the air with his fingers, holy magic illuminating his hand. "Reprisal!"

The arte neatly dispatched the Balrog with ease, slashing aside the demon as though with an invisible sword. Ascion tensed and raised his hand in preparation as a sudden flash of blue light lit up in front of him, but it turned out to be none other than Schuyler, her face shadowed by her flame-red hair as her cloak billowed out behind her. Her Kage glimmered evilly at her waist.

"At ease." she said, and Ascion could notice a series of burns and cuts decorating her crimson-gold gown. "You…aren't hurt, are you?" he asked tentatively.

She tossed her head in annoyance. "If I want to be healed, I'll ask you for it. Anyway, I have to remind you that you- and the other two that went with you- need to survive at all costs. If anything hasn't happened, our courier should reach Elaesia by now with the news. It'll be a bit of a stretch, but if we get reinforcements, we'll be able to drive them back." Despite the circumstances, she managed a smile.

Ascion couldn't help the corners of his lips turning up as well. "That's good to hear. You have any other plans for us?"

"Hm." She bit her lip as a ball of dark flame whizzed over their heads, narrowly missing them. "I'd love to stay and have a chat with you, Blade, but I gotta go. The frontlines are getting hammered as we speak."

"Wait!" Ascion uttered, but in a swish of her cloak and a flash of blue light, she vanished deeper into the depths of the forest. Putting a hand to his forehead, he firmly gripped his wand with his sweat-streaked fingers and ventured further into the ravages of the battle, ready to bring death to another wave of demons.

"Shining Ray!" he commanded without really aiming, and his efforts were rewarded by a flash of light and a thunderous roar of pain from above. Instinctively dodging the nearest Balrog's swipe at him, he rolled across the burnt ground and slashed the air with his Magicodar. "Reprisal!"

There was a brilliant burst of light as the spell neatly did its work, two halves of Balrog rendered towards the ground. Behind him, there was a shout and a brilliant flash of blue light as a Balrog screamed in pain; a corpse dropped with a loud thud to the ground as Ascion recognized his teammate.

"Joe." he spoke up briefly, and the alchemist gave a quick nod in recognition. "You've seen the frontlines- how are we doing?"

The alchemist shook his head, tufts of scorched blonde hair fluttering into his face. "All right, I guess. I mean, a party of Crimson Balrogs attacking our defensive line is no picnic, but we have significantly more magicians than Perion, so we've got a few more healers to help cover up any holes in our defense." He brushed ash off his gauntlets before turning to face the priest. "You're not having any trouble, are you?"

"No." Ascion shook his head as well, in a vain attempt to clear his smoke-smarting eyes. "You- haven't seen Iris anywhere, have you?" he added as an afterthought.

The latter seemed slightly surprised (and suspicious) at the question, but truthfully shook his head. "I don't know. There's at least a hundred mages here with green hair, and she could be any one of them. Shit!" he yelled suddenly, as a bolt of dark flame arced across their heads. With a quick flick of his fingers, he commanded, "Earth Transmutation!" There was a loud scrunching noise as a large spear of rock suddenly pulled itself from the ground and impaled the nearest demon, accompanied by a howl of pain.

"Nice." The priest allowed the faintest bit of admiration to creep into his voice. "If only all the reserves from Kerning were half as skilled in alchemy as you, then these Balrogs would all be dead by now."

Joe spat on the ground. "Well, they aren't." His pupils seemed to dilate briefly for a moment- Ascion heard him faintly mutter something that began with an "R" before he quickly said, "Well- battle on." Before Ascion could say any more, he was gone with a swish of his scarves.

"Damn." Ascion swore silently as the sounds of battle raged over his ears, explosions rocking the landscape as bodies were strewn every which way. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he found himself thinking once more of his brothers.

A sudden bolt of lightning exploding at his feet made him spring back to reality, and he retaliated by swinging a fist upwards. "Photonic Ray!" The spell exploded with a burst of golden-white light as sparks of light energy lit up the sky; Ascion kneaded his fingers through his hair and breathed deeply, but all he got was the stench of burning corpses and blood.

Out of the corner of his ears and above the din, he could hear a female voice unmistakably bellowing, "Assault teams 800-1000, retreat and cast support artes! Assault teams 400-799, deploy to the frontlines at once!"

He had no idea how Schuyler could possibly manage to keep all the numbers of Ellinia's combat units straight in her mind, but there was no time to ponder that- with over two thousand magicians fighting at the border that separated the great forest city from the rest of the world, it seemed as though they were evenly matched- sheer numbers versus magical skill. The fight could easily tip to either side with a little nudge.

_I can provide that nudge,_ he thought to himself, as a little bit of courage he hadn't known was there before blossomed inside of him. Through the haze of fighting, he imagined for a brief second that he could see Iris, her flashing green hair and silver jacket every bit as beautiful and deadly as the ice and lightning artes she unleashed from her fingertips.

He clenched his fist, drew something from the inside of his cloak, and bellowed, _"SUMMON DRAGON!"  
_  
A divine gust of wind blew across the landscape as the summoning arte took hold, scions of mana and matter fusing in mid-air as a blue light enveloped the ground before him. Both demons and magicians stopped fighting for the slightest fraction of a second to watch the spectacle before them, the gigantic silhouette of a figure making itself apparent through the shady forest.

Finally, the great cobalt-blue wyvern materialized in front of its master, dangerously snarling and purring as it clawed the ground. Unlike the rest of the smaller drakes that flitted through the air, Ascion's dragon was easily the size of a small house, its great wings unfurling in the midst of the air.

Swiftly, Ascion flicked his fingers and commanded, "Teleport!", instantly sending himself upon the back of the dragon's mount. He then stared straight ahead into the midst of the demons that were flying towards him, death in their crimson eyes.

Thinking of Ark, Zeraion and Iris, Ascion Blade shouldered his wand and carefully rose into the air, as the wings of the great dragon beat through the air, creating a rhythmic pulse that matched the throbbing of his heart.

"Let's go." he whispered, soaring forward.

* * *

Zeraion Phoenix silently leaned against a large tree in the great forest upon the Isle of Ascension, the Abyssal Arund shouldered at his side. 

"Strafe!" he commanded, sending a quartet of bright golden arrows into the air with a flick of his wrist. The projectiles hovered ever so briefly in the air before returning to earth with a vengeance, striking what seemed to be a nest of lizard-beasts.

"Uh-oh." the ranger mouthed quietly before a swarm of sharp-toothed reptillian hatchlings exploded forth from the damp forest soil, ready to claw him into breakfast.

_You know what to do, Zeraion._ Athos' voice chided him.

"Right." He spat briefly on the ground before raising his bow and commanding, "Inferno!" The fire-based arte exploded forth from his arm as a orange-crimson wave of flame surged forth along the ground, searing several of the incoming lizards where they stood.

"Final Attack!" The familiar surge of wild energy ripped through Zeraion as his arms crackled with bursts of golden-range lightning. He struggled and closed his eyes as an orb of orange-hot energy coalesced at the limbs of his bow, before literally ripping itself from his hands. The burst of energy ripped across the earth with much more force than the original attack, incinerating a wide range of land several hundred feet in front of him.

_You've improved. _Athos' voice carried nothing except a base sense of satisfaction.

"Thanks to you." Zeraion shrugged disconsolately, eyeing the destruction he'd wreaked moments ago. "Funny how that never happened when I was using it before, though."_  
_

_What never happened?_ The spirit's voice was almost teasing.

"You know, with the whole energy-being-ripped-out-my-arms deal." Zeraion shook his arms, keeping his laissez-faire attitude as usual about his training. "Is that supposed to happen?"

_ Ah. You mean energy localization. _The ancient bowmaster's voice became slightly more serious. _Yes, that can happen if you build up a strong enough charge beforehand or if your technique is…advanced enough._

"Really?" Zeraion asked, his interest piqued.

_Hm- well, in your case, I suppose it is just sheer luck._ Zeraion blanched slightly as the bow trembled in his hand. _It is a common side effect of a not-so-common technique._

"Is…it good or bad?" Zeraion ventured to ask.

_Well, that depends. _Athos' voice became somewhat conversational once more. _It provides quite an effective boost in terms of power to your Final Attack technique, but I suppose it also goes without saying that the risk of injury to your person is significantly larger._

Zeraion winced inwardly, remembering what had happened the last time he'd injured himself while practicing Final Attack (his insides also gave a momentary lurch). "You don't think…"

_Oh, I sincerely doubt anything life-threatening would happen to you. After all, it all depends on the mental strength of the person utilizing the technique, and your mental abilities are quite capable from what I can fathom. Besides, if anything goes wrong, I will aid you._

"That made me feel a lot better." Zeraion muttered, shouldering the Abyssal Arund and listlessly taking aim at a stray anthill on the ground.

He regretted making the shot almost as soon as his fingers left the string, for a sudden storm of surprisingly large insects suddenly exploded from the seemingly inert mound of earth, headed towards him with vengeance on their mind.

"Oh, for-" Quickly, Zeraion reached into the pouch on his belt and held up a summoning stone. "Silver Hawk!"

Within seconds, he was safely in the air, the Abyssal Arund holstered across his back in his quiver. He eyed the ground with derision as he gently soared across the sky, riding the wind currents.

"That's the last time I do_ that _again." he muttered.

_You could have just used Puppet to divert their attention._

"Yeah, but-" Zeraion shook his head in annoyance. "-where's the fun in that? Besides, Gardner said I need to practice this anyway, and this seemed like a good time to start."

_I find it reassuring that you practice only when being chased by hordes of angry Formicidae, Zeraion._

Zeraion silently lay closer against the body of the hawk and muttered something that sounded like "Shut up."

It took him the span of a few minutes to reach the waterfall, the cascade of magically-enhanced water rumbling through his ears when he came within range of the great watercourse. He landed with the slightest of thumps and caressed the hawk affectionately before it disappeared. Looking around and noticing with some relief that Rathias Gardner was nowhere to be found, Zeraion settled for stretching on the ground, the soft grass tickling the back of his neck- even after days of strenuous training, he still found time to appreciate the natural beauty of the island.

"Phoenix!"

_…shit._

Trying without much success to stifle a yawn, Zeraion pulled himself up from the ground and looked up into Rathias Gardner's face. "Hey, Gardner."

"And the best to you as well, Phoenix." Gardner replied calmly. As Zeraion examined the man in front of him, he could see, surprisingly, that Gardner's brow was furrowed with sweat. This shocked him a little- he had always thought that the bowmaster was the kind of person that never sweated, or showed any form of stress for that matter. What exactly had he been doing?

Hiding his curiosity behind an expression of blank indifference, Zeraion asked, "What are we doing now?"

"I would think that would be apparent to you by now, Zeraion, since we've been doing the same thing for weeks." Gardner replied, his eyes closed. When this elicited nothing more than a blank look from his student, he answered, "Training."

"Oh…right." Zeraion muttered, feeling rather stupid at the moment. Gardner neatly strung his Shinebow and raised it to the sky, firing a single arrow into the air. Zeraion watched the arrow fly through the sky before it passed over the sun, forcing him to look away. He turned back to the bowmaster with a puzzled expression. "What was that for?"

"You'll see." Gardner said flatly before resuming his normal expression. "Now, if you please, I think it would be prudent to practice your fusion artes."_  
_

_ What do you think I've been doing the past few hours?_ Zeraion nearly retorted, but he remained silent and shouldered the Abyssal Arund, aiming blankly at a tree. "Inferno Strafe!"

The fireballs quickly coalesced at the string of his bow and catapulted themselves at the tree, striking it squarely in the trunk with great explosions later. Mere seconds later, it had been reduced to ash.

Gardner did not give his usual "You've improved since I saw you last" speech to his student, but rather remained thoughtfully silent, examining the ashes as though he expected something to rise out of them any moment.

Slightly unnerved by his teacher's silence, Zeraion reshouldered the bow and aimed into the sky, blue lightning crackling at the limbs of his weapon. "Arrow Vanquisher!" The bolt of lightning shot into the sky like a rocket and disappeared briefly into the blue abyss before a sudden series of cobalt-colored beams rained from the clouds, bringing death upon multitudes of monsters below. Zeraion winced as the bolts scattered in the forest in the background.

He started to open his mouth, but Gardner silenced him with a wave of his left hand. "The ecosystem of the land is well balanced, Zeraion. You would be hard-pressed to destroy this island, save for a truly cataclysmic event- and while fusion artes are impressive, I am sure, they are nowhere near the amount of force needed to derail the Isle of Ascension from its position in the sky."

"What about changing the time of day?" Zeraion muttered out of the corner of his mouth, but Gardner did not hear the comment.

He raised the bow once more and recited the last of his three fusion techniques. "Omega Crush Rain!" A helix of flame and lightning exploded from the points of his bow and erupted in a wide arc through the sky, splintering into an innumerable number of fiery orbs that crashed across the forest, sending plumes of smoke into the sky. Zeraion lowered the bow and brushed off a few droplets of perspiration that had accumulated on his forehead.

Gardner eyed the wreckage and pronounced himself satisfied with a swish of his head, his ponytail fluttering in the wind. "Well done, Zeraion. There is a matter I must attend to in the forest, so I trust you will be sensible enough to practice by yourself for a while."

He turned around and ventured into the forest, his enigmatic exit not soothing Zeraion any. Sighing and thinking of the events going on in Victoria Island at the moment, Zeraion briefly considered tailing the bowmaster to see where he was going, but thought better of it. Given Rathias Gardner's dexterity compared to his own, it was virtually certain that he would be discovered, and although the bowmaster had never lost his temper in front of his student, Zeraion did not feel like tempting fate.

He aimlessly wandered to the edge of the waterfall and peered into the tide pool, as though expecting to see her face once more in the clear water, but the only face that stared back up at him was his own. Silently muttering, he splashed a few drops of the cold water into his face and turned back to eye the forest scenery.

"Fuck this." he muttered, the swearword awakening his tired senses more than the cold water on his forehead. Resigned to the fact that the rest of the day would probably be very uninteresting, Zeraion turned the Abyssal Arund over in his hands out of boredom.

That would not have been very productive if not for the fact that a sudden flash of light- very brief, but unmistakable- caught the ranger's eye. He squinted, looking down at the bow's ornate material, as flexible as wood yet harder than steel, and something on the surface of the bow's limb caught his eye.

He carefully examined the bow once more, bringing it just inches away from his face, and saw that there was something edged onto the surface of the weapon, an elegant carving of some sort. As he looked closer, he could see that they were letters- nearly invisible, only visible in the bright sunshine of the Isle.

It took him some minutes to read the narrow, convoluted script on the weapon, but he finally got the letters straight in his mind and pronounced the single word aloud:

_ "Falchion."_

* * *

Miles away from the destruction occurring at Ellinia, three figures sat in the shade of several large palm trees overlooking Florina Beach, the waves lapping at their toes as a gentle breeze ruffled their hair. 

"Hm." Rysdale Tales got up from his seat in the sand and cracked his knuckles, his hands illuminated in the sunshine that streamed from across the horizon. He wore a rather modest swimsuit that seemed a cross between shorts and a pair of martial artist's pants, but as if to compensate for not wearing a uniform at this moment, a scarf was tied about his neck in a deft knot, its two ends billowing in the breeze. "It's nice weather, isn't it?"

"Heard there might be a rainstorm over Ellinia." Traphes Igzarion responded calmly, his face shadowed by his long jet-black hair as he lay on the cool sand with his head against the tree trunk, his arms folded. A black-colored Metus bow was partially buried in the sand next to him. Almost as if to accentuate his dark, forbidding image, a crimson bandana was loosely tied about his forehead.

"Well, Ellinia's different." Tales raked a fistful of hair from his face and lay back against the sand once more. "The place has so much magic running through it at any given moment, it's virtually impossible to predict the weather. Remember when there was a sudden blizzard in the middle of March-"

"-which you started, if I recall correctly." Natalia Arundale finished for him, in a gentle, yet temperate tone. Like her two companions, her current beach attire was modest and showed off very little of her otherwise alluring figure, but what was visible was flawless, a very faint tan already beginning to spread across her exposed skin. Her light brown-orange hair dangled at her shoulders as she aimlessly traced patterns in the sand with her fingers.

The sniper brushed off the remark with a short chuckle. "Any sixteen year-old could have screwed up a terribly complicated artificial arte, Natalia."

She sighed in response to his comment and flicked a strand of her hair out of her face. "Artificial artes aren't that hard. You just need to keep the Iselian constant in your mind when summoning-"

"This coming from the one Devil Child who decided to skip all the books and summon the most dangerous weapon known to mankind." Igzarion muttered flatly, his voice directed at his surrogate sibling. "You damn near killed yourself the first time you tried to summon Gungnir-"

"Shut up, Iggy." she retorted, giving the back of his hand a quick slap as her cheeks turned a shade of pink; the latter rolled his eyes. "Okay, so I might have gone a little bit overboard with that particular trick- but it all turned out for the better, didn't it?" She tried to make a weak smile that quickly died against the sober looks of the other two. "Without it, I never would have got past the temporal arte-"

There was a snicker from Tales, while Igzarion looked somewhat chagrined. "It's just lucky you have a high magic tolerance," the night-haired ranger muttered, twisting a few strands of his long hair between his fingers, "otherwise you'd never be able to last more than a year practicing that technique-"

"Cut her some slack, Iggy." Tales murmured, staring up at the great fronds of the palm that rose above them. "She is a lot more skilled in lightning magic than we all are, and she is Athena's niece. There's no need for you to be jealous."

Igzarion turned a shade of puce. "What?!" he spluttered, sitting up and glaring down at the sniper with fury. "I was not- I mean-"

"I rest my case." Tales pronounced, satisfied as he sat up as well. "You want a duel or no?"

"I'd rather not." Igzarion muttered, as he turned his still-simmering face away from Tales to his bow.

"Suit yourself." He shrugged before turning to Natalia. "And you?"

"I'm not sure if I should in these clothes." she murmured shyly, tugging lightly at the strap of her suit.

The sniper adjusted his glasses and gave his trademark sly grin. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." he said, in a teasing tone.

Natalia's face went several different shades of color before it returned to normal. "Fine,_ Rysdale,_" she huffed, "if you really want, I'll give you a fight to remember." She indignantly plucked her Golden Arund from the sand and strung it, the tone echoing across the seashore.

Without making even the slightest motion of discomfort, Tales drew his Marine Raven from the sand and strung it as well, holstering the large weapon at its side. "Iggy, would you do the honor of serving as referee?" he called from the side.

"Whatever." Igzarion barely glanced upwards, looking as though he would rather be doing anything than officiating a deathmatch between his two friends. "Any time you're ready."  
There was a combined shout as both bowmen drew their weapons, aiming for each other.

"Blizzard!"

"Inferno!"

A series of glacial floes ripped forth from one end of the shore even as an incoming bolt of orange-red flame rushed from the other. The spells collided in midair, the elements of fire and ice canceling each other out as the attacks fizzled out into sparks and steam.

Running neatly along the sand, Tales raised his crossbow and aimed it at Arundale. "Strafe!"

In response, she threw herself backwards and dive-rolled out of the way of the projectiles, the heavy bolts crushing through the trunk of a wayward palm instead. In retaliation, she drew back the string of her bow and aimed without hesitation. "Arrow Rain!"

Tales had a moment's warning before the sapphire-colored bolts of energy arced downward to strike him from above. With little time to dodge, he raised his hand and commanded, "Puppet!" A large plush dummy materialized above his head just in time, absorbing the force of the incoming attack just in time.

She nodded briefly before saying, "I doubt we'll be able to get at each other much with ranged attacks, Rysdale."

He paused before replying, "Well, suit yourself." He flung his Raven aside, sending sand flying into Igzarion's face, and folded his hands. "I summon thee from the frozen depths of the abyss! _Blizzard Sword!" _An arcane glyph formed underneath him as he focused the power of the artificial arte into his hands, ice-blue bursts of energy crackling at his fingers. Within moments, the thin, deadly brand was resting in his palm, four feet of unbreakable crystalline ice ready to cleave any enemy apart.

Arundale's eyes flashed for a second before she, too, tossed her bow into the golden sands aside her stepbrother and pressed her palms together. "Open thy gates of hell to vanquish thy enemy! _Gungnir!"_ There was a massive flash of white lightning as the gigantic six-foot long wing-tipped lance rested securely in her hands once more.

They met with a ferocious impact as sparks were thrown in the air from the collision of lightning and ice. She breathed heavily before swinging her arms above her head and preparing to bring the blade of the spear upon his head; he quickly swung the blade of the great sword upwards to nullify the incoming attack and lunged, the thin edge of the sword whistling as it knifed the air.

She twisted herself out of the way, the point of the deadly sabre barely missing her by a couple of inches, and whirled around to face him once more. "Astatos!" she roared, plunging the blade of the divine weapon into the sand. There was a thunderous retort as a bolt of white-hot lightning suddenly ripped forth from the ground where he had been standing moments before, but he was prepared- with practiced dexterity, he rolled out of the way, his hair flying in the breeze, and flicked his left wrist. "Frigid Grave!"

Large, pointed spires of crystalline ice erupted from the sandy shore of the beach as the arte took effect; Natalia quickly gauged the disturbances in the air and leapt aside of the great icy towers that threatened to impale her where she stood. Dodging a sudden eruption of frozen sand underneath her feet, she raised her hand just in time to hear him command, "Icy Hellpike!"

She swore silently as he cast the follow-up arte, icy-blue spikes much sharper and deadlier than the original spell blossoming like rosethorns from the large slabs of ice already set in the ground. Using Gungnir to flay aside the incoming tendrils of ice that lunged towards her, she clenched her fist and swung her hand in a circular motion as she dodged an incoming shard of frozen magic. "Lightning Saber!"

A large, curved sword formed of volatile, blue-white bolts of electricity tore itself from the air around her, protons and electrons in the air separating to form a deadly bolt of magic that hurtled towards Tales with the force of a ballista. With little time to respond to the attack, he leapt aside and commanded, "Bastion!" A sheen of emerald-colored magic threw itself in front of him as the defensive arte blocked what Puppet could not, bursts of electricity exploding just a few feet from his face.

Deciding to forgo casting spells for the moment, she lunged forward, sparks still tickling her cheeks, as she held the lance of destruction in her hands. She thrust forward with a crescent slash in midair and felt it strike thin air; the next moment, the everfrozen blade of ice was flying towards her midsection. She quickly plunged her left arm downwards, spear in hand, and managed to stop the sword just inches from her body.

"Impressive." he whispered, just loud enough for his voice to tickle her ears.

She wrenched aside his icy blade with a sudden burst of strength and did a pirouette on the heels of her bare feet upon the sand, lashing out at him with the lightning-charged lance. He quickly averted the attack by throwing himself across the sand, before vaulting himself upward with the hilt of the sword, and she could see his weapon glowing an eerie iridescent bluish-white in preparation for another spell.

"Absolute!" he called, swiping the air with the blade.

"Lightning Tempest!" she shouted, stabbing her lance through the air.

The two spells briefly coalesced in the same area before they exploded simultaneously, a gigantic maelstrom of icy wind and lightning sparks storming in the blast radius of the artes. Both Tales and Arundale leapt to the side as the magic detonated with a thunderous retort, sending frozen sand, sparks, and chunks of earth flying everywhere.

They both panted from exhaustion upon the ground as the mana in the air dissipated; Tales finally broke the silence, his blade disappearing into the abyss with a flick of his wrist.

"Good duel." Tales murmured, in a strange tone- whether it was sarcasm or grudge, she did not know.

"R-right." Arundale felt her mouth going dry. "You too."

They were interrupted by a disinterested noise from the side by Igzarion, who was eyeing the pair while wiping flecks of dirt and sand from his face.

"We have a visitor." he muttered, gesturing upwards, and both Tales and Arundale looked up to see Delinia Arklanser eyeing them, her hands folded across her chest and her White Nisrock slung across her back.

"Nice get-up, Iggy." the rangeress muttered, eyeing the latter's bare chest and bandana, before focusing her attention to the other two Devil Children. "I-I have something urgent to say."

"Well, say it quick. We were having a nice walk on the beach until you arrived." Tales untied his scarf from around his neck.

Arklanser's eyes flitted briefly across the smoking crater in the sand before she shook her head, her flame-colored locks dancing about her waist. "I…it's…" She struggled for a moment with what she was about to say.

"Oh my god!" Arundale clapped a hand to her mouth. "Are you pregnant?"

Both Tales and Igzarion abruptly burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, while Arklanser looked mortified. "No- of course not!" she snapped furiously, the faintest traces of pink creeping up her cheeks. "I…I just wanted to say that L-Luke's getting deployed to Ellinia!"

"So…you ran all the way from his room to tell us that your boyfriend was taking a little training excursion to Ellinia?" the sniper said, between chuckles.

"It's- oh, _shut up, Rysdale!" _she screeched, clawing at a handful of her hair. "It's not about L- I mean, Colonel Sinclaire at all!" She breathed, trying to steady herself, as she put a hand to her forehead. "It's- Ellinia's under attack by Gault!"

Both Tales' and Igzarion's chuckling stopped dead at her last sentence. "What?" the sniper said blankly, apparently at a loss for words for what seemed like the first time in his life.

"I told you, Ellinia's under attack!" she cried. "There's a group of Crimson Balrogs attacking the city's defensive line as we speak, and a courier just came from Ellinia to ask for reinforcements!"

"And I suppose they sent Epsilon Regiment to deal with the situation." Tales muttered, resuming his usual caustic demeanor as though nothing had happened. "Just accept what happened and move on, Delinia. It's just a simple military campaign- these things happen all the time, and he was in the EAF after all. It's not like you didn't expect this thing to happen-"

"No, I didn't!" she snapped, and he could see a tiny tear of dark crystal forming at the corner of her eye. "What- what if he-"

Tales bit his tongue in exasperation as Arundale reached forward to steady her friend. "Oh, Delinia." she murmured gently. "It's not like his fate is sealed. He'll survive."

"This is Gault we're talking about." Arklanser snarled, steel in her voice.

"Good point." Tales cracked his knuckles. "And I suppose if you want us to go all the way there and risk our lives for his sorry-"

"Rysdale, I thought you were the one who was all for taking a direct offensive against Gault." Igzarion muttered, still lying under the tree with his arms folded. "How do you think Laura would feel if her dear little brother broke his promise to go after the one that took her life?"

Tales turned his head a fraction of a degree towards the ranger, his gaze deadly serious as a vein bulged in his temples. "I was being _sarcastic_, Iggy." he said in a level tone.

"Right." Igzarion made a gruff noise as he shrugged his shoulders and rubbed a few grains of sand off his Black Metus. "All right, let's go-"

"No." Arklanser's voice cut him off. "Rysdale's right. I can't have you risking your lives for something I want-"

"This is war, Delinia." Tales retrieved his Marine Raven from the sand, his mood changed after Igzarion's remark. "I believe the whole point is to risk our lives here. Besides, we've been friends since childhood, and I think I'd regret getting the chance to blow up Gault's sorry ass without you."

She bit her tongue. "Thank you, but I insist. If we know Gault, he'll probably attack the other cities while we're still in Ellinia, and then where will we be?" She sighed and fingered a strand of her hair, gazing into the sky. "I'll go alone, and you three will go back to Elaesia just in case Athena needs- something else." she finished, somewhat lamely.

"All right, Delinia- I guess you just want to be alone with _Luke._" Tales muttered, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. She turned a light shade of rose as he cracked his knuckles once more. "I don't blame you for doing so, but I really don't like the idea of you running off alone into the untamed wilds without support." The sniper's eyes slyly flickered to Igzarion, still lying recumbent on the sand. "Have Iggy go with you."

Igzarion sat bolt upright. "What?!"

"Oh, you were the one so eager to get up and knock off a few heads, Iggy." Tales said airily, waving a hand. "Anyway, you need the battle practice- I think you're still rusty from the temporal arte."

"You-" Igzarion's knuckles whitened briefly on the handle of his bow. "I…don't want to go if you don't feel like going, either." he muttered feebly, which did nothing to help his situation.

"So, it's settled then." Tales smiled as amicably as he could under the circumstances. "Iggy, you'll go with Delinia to fight off the rogs, and Natalia and I will go back and wait to be sent on another suicide mission. Come along." He took ahold of the latter's wrist and pulled her towards the ship near the docks, who managed to throw Arklanser an apologetic glance before Tales pulled her away.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Igzarion drew his bow from the sand, grabbed his clothes, and cast a glance at Arklanser, she just a centimeter taller than him. "Well, I suppose- we should go then." he said, with an involuntary jerk of his neck. He then directed his gaze towards the sea and clenched a fist. "Silver Hawk!"

Igzarion's hawk burst from thin air with a loud screech, its talons thirsting for blood as it bayed towards its master. Without so much as a backwards glance at her, he pulled himself onto the great bird's back and rose into the air. On the ground, he could hear a second shout of "Silver Hawk!" and saw Arklanser rise into the sky next to him moments later.

"Thank you for going with me, Traphes." she murmured as they flew onwards to Ellinia.

Igzarion merely gave a noncommittal shrug as he stared forward into the sky. "It was nothing. I just wanted to get away from Rysdale, is all." He silently gripped the neck feathers of his hawk. "Besides, with Gault against us, I guess we're all in the same boat now."

He turned towards her, and he was surprised to see a faint blush across her cheeks- he hadn't seen Delinia Arklanser's cheeks turn red in what seemed like a decade. "Why are you so interested in Colonel Sinclaire, anyway?" he muttered suspiciously, a few locks of his dark hair flying through the air as he flew.

"I- I have my own reasons, Traphes." she muttered, turning her gaze to her own bird. Igzarion silently gazed at her for a moment before staring back into the sky- another thing Arklanser hadn't done in over a decade was stutter. Why the hell was she-

Almost out of habit, his gaze flitted back to her for a precious moment, and as he looked, he thought he could detect what seemed to be a ring of black crystal hanging upon the fourth finger of her left hand.

Igzarion's expression didn't change, but Delinia caught his sharp, hawk-like gaze and shyly glided off to the side, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking at that very moment.

* * *

The Crimson Balrogs continued to soar over Ellinia as war continued to erupt between the magicians of Bera and the demons of the Sanctuary, lethal spells exchanged between the two sides as the death count numbered higher and higher. 

Schuyler Kusanagi jumped and swore as the tree she had been standing behind broke with a tremendous crash, a Balrog looming above it; she angrily thrust her Kage upwards as the fangs of the demonic staff glowed with fiery mana. "Explosion!"

There was an almighty outburst of flame and a howl of pain as the Balrog imploded, flame bursting from every pore of its body as its lifeless, blackened husk dropped to the forest floor. The head of the research magicians-turned leader of the Ellinian resistance grimaced slightly as she kicked its scorched body aside.

Well, at least she couldn't deny that this was a lot more exciting than working a desk job at the laboratory.

Wincing at the number of minor cuts and bruises she'd accumulated over her aching body, she silently staggered to her feet and waved her staff, silently commanding, "Meditate." Maybe she had been a little too arrogant when talking to Blade a few hours ago, but she would really have appreciated that Heal right about now.

A sideways glance at the frontlines told her that although her forces were valiantly trying to prevent the Crimson Balrogs from breaking their defensive line, there seemed no end in sight to the numbers of demons that threatened to enter the city boundaries at any moment- and if that were to happen, the citizens of Ellinia would be done for, just like the ones at Perion.

_That must not happen,_ she silently told herself, as she forced herself to ignore the aching in her limbs for what seemed like the thousandth time.

However, she couldn't avoid the more-than-inconvenient truth any longer- unless some kind of miracle occurred within the next hour, they were all doomed.

"Oh, Goddess." the fire magistress whispered, closing her eyes and uttering a quick prayer. She had never really been the religious type before, but now seemed as good as a time as any to pray for salvation.

Suddenly, she heard a loud cheer from behind her and opened her eyes a crack, but there was nothing to be seen. As she began to turn her head away, there was a sudden loud gust of wind and a loud crack as several trees fell, and then something gigantic and blue whizzed into her field of view for a fraction of a second before it disappeared, followed by several loud explosions and flashes of light.

"…!" Schuyler scrabbled to her feet and saw that the thing she'd mistaken for a missile had turned out to be a gigantic dragon, its great spiked wings unfurled and its talons drawn as it let out a thunderous roar. She strained her eyes and saw that there was a single figure seated upon the dragon's back, but he or she was too far away to see any clear detail.

"Teleport!" she commanded, snapping her fingers, and a flash of blue light swallowed her up before it deposited her upon a high-seated branch several hundred feet away. As the dragon rushed past her with a gust of wind that nearly unbalanced her, she caught a glimpse of the priest's face, his determined expression as unmistakable as the chocolate-colored hair that wavered in the breeze.

"It can't be." she whispered, as she stared in shock and awe at the figure that was quickly speeding off into the distance. "Ascion…"

As the Balrogs stared in amazement at the great blue figure that was speeding towards them, they had a moment's warning before it roared, "Judgment!" There was a sudden pause as the sky's fibers seemed to ripple for a moment, then utter chaos as bolts of heavenly light ripped forth from the thin air, striking down the demons where they stood. Taking advantage of the temporary break in the opposing forces, Ascion charged forward straight into the heart of the Balrogs' formation. "Shining Ray!"

His spell exploded with the force of a missile, throwing several Balrogs out of the sky as they fell to the wrath of his holy abilities. A quartet of the demons charged forward to intercept him with death in their eyes, only to be blown away as he commanded, "Eclair de Larmes!" A cross appeared on his palms before bolts of light erupted from his hands, skewering the Balrogs several times before they fell to the ground, dead.

Meanwhile, upon the ground, Iris Gaiden was valiantly dueling the demons that were swiping at her with their dangerously sharp claws, her Kage staff glowing with arcane energy as she cast arte after arte at them. "Ice Strike!" she roared, slamming the point of her weapon into the ground. The earth trembled loudly before gigantic ice crystals erupted from the ground, freezing the Balrogs with arcane pulses of icy magic; a simple cry of "Thunder Spear!" was enough to dispatch them from there.

"Shit." she muttered as she saw another wave of demons rise up from behind a hill, their eyes focused on her. The handle of her staff was slippery with sweat. "Don't these guys ever give up?" she moaned as she readied herself to fight some more.

A Balrog soared at her, its wings spread wide as it raised its claw, but she was ready, and she slashed the air with her staff as electricity crackled about her. "Thunder Spear!" There was an almighty crack and a burst of lightning as her attack struck its mark, the Balrog crumpling to the ground. Another soared towards her with its fangs wide; she spun out of the way and roared, "Cold Edge!" A curved wave of icy mana spun from her staff, striking the demons around her and knocking them back; she finished them off with a cry of "Lancreaver!" The ground rent itself apart as she cast her ultimate arte, ice and blood decorating the landscape.

"Ascion…" she mouthed silently, unheard by all except herself. "Where…are you?"

She got her answer mere seconds later when she heard a familiar roar of "Reprisal!" above her; she shrieked and leapt out of the way as two dismembered halves of a Balrog hit the ground at her feet. Wincing and looking upwards, she could see the silhouette of a great cobalt-blue dragon, its gaping maws wide as it sent blasts of light energy at its enemies. Riding upon its back was a short figure, with unmistakable chocolate hair and dark, forbidding robes-

"Ascion!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the trees, but he either didn't hear or couldn't, as several Balrogs were now surrounding him; there were more flashes of light from above, and more Balrogs fell. Iris swore silently and clutched at her staff; how could he put himself in danger like this-

"Lightning Transmutation!" a voice called from behind, and the ice mage spun on her heel to see a familiar blonde-haired alchemist, his face streaked with ash as cuts decorated his armor. Blue energy crackled at the tips of his fingers as the transmutation array on his palm quickly faded. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

"All right, thank you." she replied, which was a lie. "And you?"

He gave a sly grin and cocked his cap sideways on his head. "Oh, this is cake. Just set a few convenient trap seals behind some trees and the rest practically takes care of itself-" He cut himself off upon seeing the somber look on Iris' face. "Is everything all right?" he asked, more gently this time.

"It's Ascion." she muttered. She regretted saying the words almost as soon as they tumbled from her mouth, but Joe paid little attention to her words' meaning.

"Oh, you mean the little joy rider up there?" he muttered, pointing a finger into the air. "I wouldn't worry about him. He can take care of himself up there. Earth Transmutation!" he suddenly roared, and Iris spun around just in time to see a large fireball hit the makeshift shield of rock that Joe had transmuted from the ground a split second ago. "You need to keep your wits about you in this place." he added calmly, now twirling a Steely knife about his finger- where he had got it from, she could only guess.

"How much longer is this fight going to last?" she muttered, raking beads of sweat from her forehead.

The hermit shrugged. "Truthfully, I'm not sure. We've been fighting for a few hours, but then again, I can't say how many Balrogs they're going to throw at us." He sighed and flicked the knife into the air, catching it with a quick motion of his wrist. "They'll have to run out sooner or later."

He was right, but not in the way he'd expected.

The air was suddenly filled with screams and explosions as an earthquake-like noise filled the air, and Iris and Joe whipped their heads around to see a herd of Tauromacis, Taurospears, and even Wild Kargos rushing at them from the front. What these lesser monsters lost in power to the Balrogs, they easily made up for in speed as they mowed across the magicians, cleaving them aside like blades of grass.

"Shit!" Iris knew not whether it was her own mouth or Joe's that had swore before the hermit suddenly held a pair of shining knives between his fingers. "Shadow Partner…Flare Transmutation!" he shouted, in short order, as a pitch-black silhouette of himself seemingly detached itself from his body and flung two projectiles into the monsters' midst to join his own. The quartet of knives each struck a monster before they detonated, shards of red-hot metal flying everywhere as the alchemist finished his spell.

"How did you do that?" Iris gaped, as the smell of ashes rose into the air.

"I simply transmuted the carbon steel of the knives into flammable and combustible elements, such as phosphorus, and used a small magic charge to detonate them." he replied, in a tone that suggested the transmutation he'd just performed was no harder than clapping one's hands. "Anyway, you need to go and join the frontlines- they need you! Now!" he shouted, with sudden urgency, as more monsters from the Sanctuary streamed across the ground.

Iris blinked as the alchemist seemingly vanished into the stream of activity, as shouts and explosions rang through the air. Knowing the truth in his words, she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and gripped her staff firmly. _I've got to do this. For Ascion…and for everybody._

With a furious battle cry, the head of her staff blazed with angry lightning as she unleashed the full measure of her power, joining the ranks of hundreds of magicians that would soon do battle against the monsters that threatened their home.

Meanwhile, Schuyler watched the ongoing battle below with trepidation as she hung on the branch of a large tree high above, unseen by all. Quickly applying an arcane arte to enhance her eyesight, she scanned the fields below and found that the ranks of Crimson Balrogs were quickly diminishing, replaced instead by hordes of Tauros and Kargos. They seemed to do a much more effective job than their larger predecessors, moving across the landscape with shocking efficiency.

"F…" The fire mage ground her teeth, her swearword hidden by a sudden hiss of breath through her teeth. She felt immensely guilty, as though the massive battle and slaughter that was going on below was all her fault, and in fact she was powerless to prevent it.

"I need to do something." she muttered, rubbing her temples with her right hand- but in fact that had been what she had been telling herself the whole time. It was about high time she got off her lazy behind and decided to do something about it, she thought, as her staff blazed in her hand.

With lightning precision, she inserted her hand inside her robe and nimbly picked out a scroll from within its depths, the paper tinted a slight yellow from oxidation. Unfurling the scroll, countless equations and theorems scribbled upon its musty page, her sharp eyes briefly scanned the arte for a second before she stowed the scroll back inside her gown.

"Let's see if this will do any good." she muttered aloud, as she raised her staff to the sky and kneaded her hands in preparation to cast, bits and pieces of arcane knowledge whirling through her mind like a miniature tempest.

With a roar, Schuyler Kusanagi launched herself off the high tree branch several hundred feet in the air, the head of her Kage blazing an eerie lavender color. As she fell, she slashed the air with her staff and bellowed, "Caustic Aura!"

At once, the head of her staff blazed fiercely with energy as a burst of lavender-white light erupted from the jaws of her weapon and diffused through the air, blanketing the entire battlefield in its wake. For the briefest of seconds, both sides paused to look into the sky, which now looked as though a great purple blanket had been thrown over it, the very fabric of the air seemingly disintegrating.

Only seconds later, the true nature of the magistress' arte was realized. Mere moments after inhaling the purple-tinted air, the monsters began to slow their assault as the magic in the air invaded their systems. Then, all hell broke loose as large groups of Tauros and Kargos suddenly stopped their attacks in mid-lunge and began writhing and having convulsions upon the ground. The magicians quickly took advantage of this opportunity and slew the dying monsters by the hundreds, demonic blood soaking into the Ellinian ground.

As Schuyler fell, moments before gravity and the ground were about to bring her a painful death, she closed her eyes and uttered "Teleport!" just as the hem of her long gown came within yards of the grassy earth. The arte whisked her to safety as she landed feet-first upon a pile of monster corpses, slightly windswept but otherwise unharmed.

"S-Schuyler!" The flame-haired leader of the magicians whirled her head around to see Iris Gaiden rushing towards her, her face pale. As Schuyler neared, she could see that the emerald-haired mage was having trouble breathing. "Calm down."

"What the hell did you do?!" she gestured wildly, pointing at the violet fog that blanketed the forest.

"Oh, just a little poison arte I devised a little while back out of boredom." Schuyler said in a dismissive tone, examining her fingernails. "Damn near risked my life getting a good position for it, but I guess it was worth it." She eyed the field of monster corpses before her and laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, and you can breathe." she added, taking note that Iris was literally hyperventilating. "It's only modified to attack the physical systems of non-humanoid organisms."

Iris relaxed and took a deep breath, wiping perspiration from her temples. "I guess Tauros don't qualify under humanoid organisms, then." she muttered dryly, gazing at the corpse-littered ground. "Have you seen Ascion, by the way?" she added as an afterthought.

The fire mage shrugged. "Who hasn't?" She breathed deeply and stared into the sky. "He's still daredeviling the pants off the Balrogs stupid enough to stay here, but I have to admit that despite the obvious danger, that is a brave idea." She exhaled, blowing purple haze into the air. "He's probably the strongest unit we have here at the moment, though."

"Aside from you." Iris added quickly, and Schuyler raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you were one to kiss asses, Gaiden."

The ice mage immediately flushed several shades of puce, but Schuyler pretended not to have seen her subordinate's expression. "Anyway, that aside, I think I've bought us a little time with my airshow just now, but unless those reinforcements from Elaesia get here soon, our defensive line won't hold up much longer."

Still pink in the face from Schuyler's crude comment, Iris swallowed and wrung out a handful of her hair. "R-right. I guess I should go back to the frontlines now; can't have that happening." With a feeble laugh, she waved her staff and commanded, "Teleport." There was a flash of blue light as she disappeared, leaving the fire mage to her own devices.

Before Schuyler could collect herself, she saw more demonic troops coming at her from the side, and she forcibly swore. Her poison arte had only covered a localized area, and it would be much too exhausting to climb up a tree again and throw herself off it.

Lunging forward, she commanded, "Magic Composition!" Two orbs of red and green magic briefly formed at the jaws of her staff before they merged and launched themselves forward with a loud bang. Smiling grimly, she slashed her staff repeatedly through the air, the fiery poison-laced bolts soaring across the landscape. Each one hit its mark with a small explosion as caustic steam rose into the air. A Taurospear charged forward at her with its lance raised, intending to run her through; she deftly teleported out of the way and aimed the jaws of her weapon at it. "Meteor Lancer!"

A thin shaft of red-white flame pulled itself from thin air and slammed itself into the ground underneath the oxlike beast, before it detonated with power that belied its weak look. Bits and pieces of dismembered monster flew everywhere as Schuyler pulled a sleeve over her eyes; the Tauros were still streaming forward, and there were still no sign of the Elaesians.

Silently cursing under her breath (she found she was doing a lot of that lately), she cast a Teleport spell and found herself standing upon a fairly tall branch of a large tree. Maneuvering herself carefully across the wide limb, she closed her eyes and focused herself upon the battle below. She could still see Ascion, zooming around on the back of his dragon as he ferociously dueled any Crimson Balrogs still foolish enough to enter the fray.

Aiming her staff at the furious melee below, she closed her eyes and uttered, "Explosion!" There was a thunderous noise as her arte ripped apart the air with large bursts of heated flame, displacing a Balrog just mere feet away from Ascion. The latter briefly raised his head and nodded his thanks towards her before doing a barrel roll to avoid a bolt of lightning in midair.

Still keeping her point upon the limb, she steadied herself and focused her sight on the ground below, where hundreds and hundreds of monsters and magicians were still dueling ferociously. Keeping a careful grip upon her Kage, she slashed the air and commanded, "Magic Composition!" Using the high altitude of the branch as vantage, she furiously sniped away at the monsters from below, doing anything she could to tip the outcome of the battle in their favor.

Ascion noticed Schuyler flinging bolts of magic at the demons below them with deadly accuracy; he barely had time to recognize her face before a Balrog swept at him, its claws raised. He dived, the Balrog's claws coming so close they swept through his hair, and quickly spun around. "Reprisal!" he roared. A thin bolt of light spun from his fingers and flung itself towards the Balrog, the holy magic slicing through its body like paper. The dragon below him let out a massive screech as it opened its mouth and let out a blast of white lightning, incinerating a small line of beasts upon the ground.

The priest's hawk-like eyes scrutinized the ground as he silently contemplated a plan. _They seem to be gathering more units on the ground below and are trying to surround us. If I can break their formation…_

He exhaled, stroked the back of his dragon's neck, and brushed perspiration from his forehead. The collar of his robes were soaked with sweat and he loosened them, undoing the topmost pin near his neckline. Far below, as he squinted his eyes, he thought he could see a flash of emerald hair upon the ground, dancing and twirling in the wind.

For a fraction of a second, the tiniest droplet of regret rested in Ascion's chest.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, a sliver of breath in the cool air.

Then he dived.

The monsters and humans dueling upon the ground had a moment's warning before something blue and gigantic hurtled towards them with the speed of a rocket. People below screamed as the figure of Ascion Blade finally showed itself in all its terrible glory, his robes flying behind him as he brandished his wand furiously through the air, the roar of his dragon drowning out all other sound in the area.

Iris Gaiden raised her head a fraction of an inch to see white pillars of flame erupting like steam vents from the forest floor below her, shooting their deadly payload into the air and scorching countless scores of monsters to a fiery crisp. Though she was at least fifty feet away from the source of the magical conflagration, she could still feel the heat sear her face and stepped back gingerly.

Once she'd applied an ice arte to herself to prevent herself from succumbing to the extreme heat, she dashed forward and examined the burnt, scarred ground. She picked up a handful of ashes and stared in wonder; unlike normal ashes, the cinders she currently held were snow-white and crumbled to microscopic flecks in her hand. Her mouth hung open in amazement as she wondered what kind of arte could be powerful enough to merit this level of destruction-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout from Ascion overhead as more pillars of flame exploded forth from the ground, neatly striking down countless Taurospears and Kargos and reducing them to charred shells of white that crumbled at the slightest touch. The heat was intense, too intense, and Iris would have collapsed if not for the fact she'd summoned a temporary ice wall around herself to guard herself from the flames.

And then, suddenly, she remembered.

"Sacramental fire." she whispered, a single murmur in the now somewhat deserted clearing; no one dared venture into the burnt-white area save for her. She had read about it in Grendel's gigantic encyclopedia on a rare occasion when Ascion hadn't been in his room, and it was probably _the _most dangerous spell a priest could use- aside from Heavenlapse, of course- but how the _bloody hell_ could he possibly have used such a complicated and destructive arte? There had only been three recorded instances of sacramental fire being used in history, countless hundreds had lost their lives attempting to practice it- and for the Goddess' sake, he was only sixteen!

Well, _that_ was another thing she'd have to ask him, if she ever got the chance.

* * *

Far off in the depths of the ancient city Meteon E'traia, Gault Isentryx made not even the slightest noise of anger or discontent as he scryed the fields near Ellinia, the image of the teenage priest slaughtering monsters by the dozens with bursts of snow-white flame. 

"Hm." The faintest and deadliest of smiles crossed his face for a fraction of a second before he broke the telepathic link between his mind and the battlegrounds, opening his eyes. The shock of his crimson pupils seemed to fill the whole hall with an evil air as he breathed, eyeing each tile of the ancient destroyed city as though each one had done him a personal wrong.

The sable-haired bowmaster silently tapped his fingers on the arm of his makeshift throne of ice. It definitely suited his sinister image more than anything; the cruel king ruling over his frozen lands with an iron fist.

He closed his eyes and seemed to mouth something, the faintest of hisses making their way out of his mouth, unintelligible to all except the demons of eld that had inhabited Bera since its creation; the Balrogs.

Sure enough, moments after his utterance, a tall, forbidding figure with great wings folded across its back stomped into the hall, footsteps echoing like miniature earthquakes across Meteon E'traia's walls. A gigantic crystalline spear made of ice rested in an ornate sheath draped across its back, easily the size of a grown man's height and a half. Ice-blue plates adorned the foul creature's body as a helmet of convoluted, icy spikes rested upon its head.

_"Is there something you require, milord?"_ Balthazar of the Devil Three spoke. His voice, although horribly distorted and grating, was still barely intelligible- indeed, he and his two companions were the only arch-demons in existence capable of human speech.

"Do you think I called you here for a cup of tea?" Gault replied, in a silky tone that sounded as though the next person who sought a cup of tea with him would die an exceedingly painful death by poisoning. "I wanted to ask for your opinion on a certain matter."

Balthazar merely shrugged and said humbly, _"I doubt I should be the one to consult on such matters, Lord Isentryx."_

Gault's pupils flashed briefly. "Who do you suggest I ask, then- one of your dim-witted companions? Or perhaps Raizen?" The bowman gave a caustic laugh at his own jest, as the Omega Balrog remained stonily silent. It was some time before Gault resumed the conversation. "As it is, I would normally handle such a matter myself, but I find such trifle somewhat stifling to the brain. Besides…" He kneaded his knuckles on the arm of his seat. "I prefer asking your opinion, because you seem to have quite the penchant for bloodlust." The silky tone had crept back into his voice somewhat.

Balthazar sighed deeply._ "If that is your will, milord, then so be it."_ He folded his massive barrel arms across his chest and asked, _"What is our current status in Victoria?"  
_  
"Not bad, actually." Gault closed his eyes in thought for a moment. "It is true that our demonic forces are being diminished at a rapid rate, but it is no matter- after all, our units outnumber the Victorians ten to one." He smiled briefly at the thought of more bloodlust before he continued.

"Currently, Perion is in shambles. Ellinia is, as we speak, besieged by a few thousand Crimson Balrogs, Taurospears, Tauromacis, and even a few Wild Kargos that I suppose decided to tag along for the ride. The magician forces are fighting valiantly, and I must admit it is one of their few honorable traits- but as we all know, death is the one thing in life that is certain."

_"I see." _The Balrog considered the information for a moment. _"And what do you propose to do about the city of Ellinia? Do you plan on sending yourself into the fray?"_

Gault immediately held up his hand, silencing the Balrog like a candle being snuffed out. There was a slight bit of contempt on the bowman's face as he stoically replied, "As things stand, I have no intent of showing myself to the populace at large. I will only do so at Henesys-Elaesia, when Athena Pieralasca herself decides to surrender." There was a brief moment of madness that showed in his face when he said the sentence- an expression that managed to unnerve even the Balrog for a fraction of a second. "For now, a simple solution to this problem will do."

Balthazar remained silent for a moment before he spoke up. _"With all due respect, milord, I believe the situation should require a bit more consideration. You see, the Ellinians have a fighter on their side that is extremely skilled in holy artes. His name is Ascion Blade-"_

"What?" Balthazar winced as Gault raised his voice, showing genuine interest in the conversation for what seemed like the first time ever. "You mean Zeraion Phoenix's younger brother?"

_ "Yes, the youngest son of the priest Rafael Wolfen and the swordswoman Avelyn Blade."_ There was a slight touch of bored farce in the Balrog's tone._ "His ability with holy spells is impressive- he has even mastered the art of sacramental flame. Only Lisandea, the prophet of the Final Four, Grendellus, the leader of Ellinia for several centuries, and Rafael himself have ever used that deadly technique in history."_ Balthazar exhaled, completing his soliloquy. _"I doubt he should be taken lightly."_

"Yes, Zeraion Phoenix's little brother." Gault repeated, sounding as though he had not listened to a word the Omega Balrog had just said. "Younger siblings are quite troublesome, aren't they, Balthazar?"

Balthazar looked somewhat confused for a moment before he replied, _"I'm not sure I can answer that, milord."_

Gault exhaled in annoyance, tapping his fingers against the arm of his seat; the Balrog winced ever so slightly. "Be that as it may, I do not worry about Blade- or even the whole city of Ellinia, if need be. Whatever losses we may suffer will be minimal. I will make sure of that."

The Balrog looked as though he was going to ask for clarification of this dark statement, but he shut his fanged mouth in mid-speech. However, Gault noticed his second-in-command's baffled expression and said, "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Balthazar. The Holy Grail of secret weapons, if you will."

"_Ah."_ Balthazar sedately scuffed his clawed greaves across the floor. _"You mean Raizen."_

Gault opened his mouth a fraction of a centimeter before he closed it, then said, "Yes. Grace Raizen is the perfect vessel for my use. She is an accomplished ice/lightning archmage with unsurpassed abilities, and she picks up forbidden magic and artes like moths to the flame. As if things couldn't be more convenient, Zeraion Phoenix happens to take her as a love interest. _Ha!_" he suddenly shouted, as Balthazar really did flinch this time. "The harlot!"

Balthazar looked unconvinced, but decided wisely not to question Lord Isentryx further. _"I see. So is that all you plan to do regarding Ellinia?"_

"Yes." Gault threw a hand up in mock exhaustion. "That is all."

Feeling slightly convinced that his superior had recently sustained head injury of some sort, Balthazar turned without another word and left the hall of Meteon E'traia, leaving Gault Isentryx to his own devices.

* * *

While the malevolent bowmaster Gault Isentryx brooded silently in the caverns of Meteon E'traia, the burdened ranger Zeraion Phoenix sat upon the bank of the tide pool on the Isle of Ascension, skipping stones over the surface of the clear water. 

With a heavy sigh, Zeraion flicked his wrist and sent a flat piece of stone flying across the tide pool. It skimmed the surface of the water once, briefly, before it hit a ripple in the water and sunk to the bottom of the water.

Oh, to be that stone, Zeraion thought, as he bounced another pebble on the flat of his palm. Even if he sunk to the bottom of the water, at least there he could be with Grace for a precious moment, and never have to worry about the fact that there was somebody out there named Gault Isentryx that was attempting to purge Bera of all that were non-bowmen.

"Inferno!" he muttered, the stone glowing cherry-red as it lay in the flat of his palm, yet the hot rock did not sear his skin. With a quick motion of his wrist, the heat-enchanted pebble skipped four times across the surface of the water, kicking up a cloud of steam and a hiss with each bounce until its heat died out and it sank to the bottom of the pool.

He watched its descent with a heavy glance, then pulled himself off the bank of the pool and silently trotted to the wood hut that he shared with Gardner. Evening had fallen, and the bowmaster had ventured into the forest for another one of his matters- what that entailed, Zeraion did not know, but as he'd learned from reading the diary, it was better not to ask questions where Rathias Gardner was concerned.

He cast a glance at the sky; the sun was beginning to set, and for a moment, he thought of Ark, Ascion, and the rest still in Victoria Island, but he forced himself to tear his thoughts away from them for a moment. They could wait. Defeating Gault was all that mattered now.

_You've grown,_ a voice in his head said, and he immediately checked himself for the Abyssal Arund out of force of habit. However, the voice was not Athos'. It was his own.

He turned towards the waterfall and gave one last sigh before turning back to the clearing, cracking his knuckles. The Abyssal Arund was currenly lying on his bed, and he did not feel like running the distance, short as it was, back to his room. Better to just practice melee techniques for now, he thought.

He held out his wrist and commanded in a low voice, "Thunder Spear." There was a soft crackle as the bolt of lightning materialized between his fingers, throwing a dim light over the forest in the background. He casually twirled the weapon over his head in a circular motion before bringing it down to the ground at his feet, exhaling in a simple breath.

Without a second thought, he closed his eyes and launched himself forward, the spear flashing through the air as it struck down several imaginary enemies. He ducked low and aimed a leg sweep at the ground, the blade of the electric lance crackling as it decapitated a few blades of grass. He followed the maneuver with an upwards thrust, the edge of the spear bursting with electricity as he alighted on his feet with the grace of a dancer.

Letting his breath escape in a hiss, he charged forward and thrust his arm forward, crying "Thunder Lance!" There was a brilliant flash as a supercharged bolt exploded through the air, streaking through the sky. Without pausing, he twirled on his feet and gave a sideways lunge, neatly trailing the fingers of his left hand along the ground as an invisible foe lay dead at his feet. He then spun the haft of the lance upwards and roared, "Impaling Heaven!" as a series of waves of energy burst forth from his arm and took the leaves off several branches of a tall tree nearby.

He then swept the ground, spinning the center of the spear in his right hand for several revolutions before launching into his final attack. "Radiant End-"

He lunged forward, and the spear unexpectedly impacted against something hard and immovable. Puzzled, Zeraion opened his eyes and saw Rathias Gardner standing a foot away from him, his gaze turned away from the ranger as a brilliant lance of his own was gripped in the fingers of his left hand, deftly blocking the blade of the ranger's lance a few inches from the side of his head.

"Good evening to you as well, Phoenix." Gardner replied leisurely, avulsing the spear from his grip with a flick of his wrist. "I see you've been practicing."

Zeraion turned a shade of claret, in light of accidentally having tried to assassinate his teacher. "Sorry, Gardner." he muttered with as much clearance as he could muster in his voice. He withdrew the shaft of the long bladed weapon in his grip and lowered it. "Should I keep practicing?" he asked, slightly rhetorically.

Gardner, surprisingly enough, replied with a "No." Wondering at the change in the usually prompt and clear-cut bowmaster's demeanor, Zeraion vanished the lance by clenching his fist. "Why not?" he asked, in as conversational a tone as possible.

"Suffice it to say that there are those who would have you practice…more conventional techniques." the elder bowman replied, with a touch of knowing sarcasm in his voice. Slightly incensed, Zeraion grumpily muttered, "Who would 'those' people be?"

Gardner merely gave his signature dry, omniscient smile and turned away from Zeraion, saying, "Go and fetch the Abyssal Arund. I would prefer you remain armed for this exercise."

Knowing _that _couldn't be good, Zeraion sulked towards the direction of the hut. He made a rude gesture at Gardner from behind, but he regretted doing it almost instantly as he could almost feel the bowmaster's eyes searing into his back; yet, when he chanced a backwards glance, Gardner was sedately glancing upwards at the treetops.

Zeraion tiredly entered the dimly lit room and found the Abyssal Arund calmly glittering upon the disheveled sheets of his bed, its limber form reflecting the evening's light. He quickly picked up the weapon and felt the familiar surge of power as Athos and he joined consciousness; he saw the elegant carving of the word "Falchion" on its left limb and wondered briefly about it before remembering that Gardner was waiting for him outside, and immediately rushed out the door with the bow in hand.

When he ventured outside, he found Gardner silently gazing at the sky as usual, the first of many stars beginning to appear over the dark orange horizon. The bowmaster glanced at Zeraion, seemingly as if noticing him for the first time, and made a nod of recognition. "Excellent, Phoenix. Since you are here and prepared, I suppose we can begin this evening's torture session." He smiled amicably, while Zeraion merely offered a nervous smile at the bowmaster's caustic brand of humor.

Gardner unsheathed and strung his Shinebow in one fluid motion, the fangs of the dragon-emblazoned weapon sparkling even in the dim light. "Now, I suppose this may sound something like a broken record to you, but you have improved much in the weeks we've been here- and at a much faster rate than I could have imagined. I would like to congratulate you on the progress you've made so far."

Although Zeraion feigned modest embarassment at the bowmaster's words, he secretly felt a deadweight drop in his chest, for he knew that Gardner would not have required him to bring his bow just for a pep talk. His expectations/fears were confirmed when the latter spoke once more, his voice slightly more serious. "Because of this, I think it is time to begin a new stage in your education, a new stage that I sincerely hope will allow you to gain a foothold over Isentryx should you two meet."

At the mention of Gault's name, Zeraion's trepidation simmered into resentment as he clenched his fist- he would kill that bastard for what he did to Grace, no matter what. Surprising himself slightly with his own indignation, he stepped forward and said, "I'm ready."

Gardner raised his left eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "I see. Then I surmise you won't be averse to running…let's see, thirty laps around the waterfall."

The deadweight in his stomach returned somewhat as Zeraion nodded dumbly, his throat dry, and took off. Despite his slight inability to cope with strenuous activity, he found that thinking about Grace rekindled his determination and took the edge off the strain of running. When he finally finished the last lap in what seemed like a several-hour run, he coughed briefly before drawing himself to his full height in front of his teacher. "Done."

Gardner folded his arms, a slightly impressed look on his face. "Well done indeed. I regret that I will have to regale you with a strenuous bit of talking here, so you may sit if you wish." Zeraion's knees buckled briefly in protest, but he shook his head and remained standing.

"So." The bowmaster calmly turned away from Zeraion and began to pace slowly, talking as he walked. "As you've resided here, you've matured both physically and mentally from a young ranger to a much wiser and more capable bowman. You've learned a multitude of techniques and tactics to serve you in battle, and I can honestly say that were the need to arise, you could single-handedly face a large division of Taurospears without facing significant danger."

Zeraion wondered for a brief moment where Gardner was going with all this praise, before the latter continued speaking. "However, I regret having to tell you that because we have a slightly bigger threat on our plate than a division of Taurospears, it falls to me to teach you what more I can to prevent you from succumbing to the scourges of war, including introducing you to a few more…slightly advanced techniques."

In a swift motion, Gardner turned on his heel and looked his student directly in the eye; Zeraion nearly bit his tongue in shock when he saw those flashing orbs of lightning-blue.

"Those include the techniques of a Bowmaster."

Adrenaline blossomed through Zeraion's veins as he considered the implication of the bowmaster's words. Did this mean he was finally going to be a-

"It is true that it is very dangerous for one who is not a bowmaster yet to practice fourth-class techniques, but time, unfortunately, as I've told you countless times before, is not on our side." Gardner's eyes seemed to dilate for a moment before he went on. "I suppose it is also reassuring that you've been practicing Final Attack for some time now, so you should have a good tolerance of practicing dangerous artes." He smiled briefly before folding his arms across his chest. "Which brings me to my next point." His eyes sharpened. "Have you been practicing Silver Hawk?"

Forcibly reminded of a certain episode with an anthill, Zeraion bit his tongue and said, "Yes."

Gardner looked slightly unconvinced, but as usual, he offered no comment. Instead, he chose to say, "Excellent. Then I hope you won't have any trouble with this next technique I am about to teach you…Phoenix."

Gardner then turned away and drew something from the inside of his hauberk; closing his fist, he raised it to the sky and commanded, "Fire Phoenix!"

There was a thunderous bang like a cannon shot, and Zeraion had to shield his eyes as a massive orb of flame coalesced in the middle of the clearing, threatening to burn everything in its vicinity. He strained his eyes through the light and could see the outline of a gigantic bird, much more streamlined and elongated than the figure of a regular hawk, through the conflagration.

Finally, Gardner turned aside his wrist, and the flare-like light in the area dimmed as Zeraion heard a loud bird-like screech. He blinked his eyes several times and could see the figure of a large phoenix, its body ablaze with orange-crimson flame as it clawed the ground, a plume of brilliant fire adorning its head like a crown. The heat was intense, and he could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

Gardner allowed Zeraion to admire the great bird for a moment before he flicked his wrist, causing it to disappear in another flash of heated light. Zeraion could only stare in awe at the smoking patch of burnt ground where the bird had once stood. "How did you do that?"

"Through a combination of dedication, steadfast patience, and elbow grease." the bowmaster replied without batting an eye. "It is my wish that before we leave this island that you at least familiarize yourself with this ability."

"All- all right." Zeraion swallowed, his insides feeling rather dry at the moment. "How do I start?"

"If you are familiar with Silver Hawk, then this should not be too much trouble. Think of it as a fusion arte between Silver Hawk and Inferno. It is not a particularly strenuous or demanding technique, but it does require some practice to get it down pat, so don't feel too bad if nothing happens on the first time- or if you accidentally blow yourself up." Gardner added, (un)helpfully.

Zeraion inwardly winced and nodded, drawing a summoning stone from the inside of his pocket. "Right. F-Fire Phoenix!" he commanded, as a sudden burst of energy suffused him and he struggled to keep conscious.

The stone in his hand suddenly grew extremely hot, feeling like a burning piece of charcoal on his palm. He yelped and tried to drop it, but it felt as though it were superglued to his hand as it began to glow with energy. At the same time, as he strained his eyes to see through the light, he could see the very outline of a crimson-colored bird forming in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous explosion as Zeraion felt himself being tossed into the air like a piece of refuse, unstable mana shooting painfully through his brain in recoil. He arced briefly through the sky before hitting something hard, cold, and wet- the waterfall, he realized, with a sudden jolt.

As he fought to get to the surface, he opened his eyes and thought, for the briefest, fleeting moment, that he could see her eyes, staring sorrowfully at him as though they wanted to see him for just one more second.

He exhaled noisily, blowing droplets of water out his mouth and nostrils, and climbed out of the pool, his clothes sodden down as his brain felt slightly waterlogged.

"That…went well." he muttered, wringing his hair onto the ground, as his burnt skin still smarted from impact.

Gardner merely gave his student a dry, casual glance, as if Zeraion had done nothing more than tripped over a stone on the ground. "Yes, I agree." He folded his arms. "In Elaesia, Athena and I debated on whether to begin your introduction to bowmastery with Fire Phoenix, Dragon Pulse, or Hurricane." He exhaled softly, his breath a small zephyr in the air. "In the end, we finally decided on the former. Dragon Pulse and Hurricane are mighty indeed, but they carry a very high risk, higher, even, than that of Final Attack, and I argued that it would not do you good to end up amputating your own limbs before you faced off against Gault."

Zeraion opened his mouth to argue that exploding one's self and being thrown under a waterfall were risk enough, but he fell silent in the face of the bowmaster's expression, and settled for pulling himself up to his feet, brushing wet hair from his face. "I'll try again, then."

As he rummaged in his pockets for another summoning stone, he heard Gardner say, "Do not push yourself too hard. Practicing fourth-class techniques is not easy on one's body and mind, and it is not recommended- especially for one so young and inexperienced like yourself- that you practice for more than half an hour."

"Hm." Zeraion answered with an inconsequential grunt and finally closed his fingers around the cool, blue stone. "Fire Phoenix."

The stone grew red-hot in his hands once more as energy began to spiral in front of him, bringing itself together to form what would be the body of a great phoenix. He found that performing the summoning technique the second time around was both easier and harder at the same time- summoning the volatile energy towards himself was slightly easier, but keeping it controlled was too much for his already-drained body. He saw the white-hot outline of the phoenix flash in his mind once more before the mana released itself and detonated, throwing him across the ground like a marionette. When he finally managed to stagger to his feet, he was bloody, battered, bruised, and had dirt on practically every square inch of his body.

Zeraion cursed and spat out a mouthful of earth, raking his scorched hair from his forehead. Seeing his situation, Gardner drew something from his pocket and tossed it over to his student; Zeraion caught it in mid-air and saw it was a vial full of the healing unguent that he had used while practicing his defensive techniques- the one that tasted like sewer water, he remembered with a jolt, as he reluctantly uncorked it. As the putrid stuff flowed down his veins, his burns receded as the aching all over his body stopped, and he resignedly drew out another summoning stone from the inside of his pocket.

"Fire Phoenix!" he commanded once more, as the stone quickly disintegrated in his hand, lending its magical power to his own as the summoning arte quickly took effect. A pattern of red magic spiraled from his palm as white-hot waves of energy quickly materialized in the scorched clearing before him. He clenched his fist tighter and winced as beads of perspiration dribbled down the back of his neck, trying to harness the unstable magic as it twisted and turned from his grasp- it was like Final Attack all over again, he suddenly realized.

Then, all of a sudden, something happened that he never would have believed- as he struggled to maintain the figure of the great fiery bird before him, he suddenly saw a flash of light in the distance that was not from his spell. Greatly surprised, he twisted his head a fraction of an inch away from the clearing, and he saw the tall, elegant figure of Grace Raizen standing just a few yards away from him, her staff clutched behind her back as she sadly stared at him with her beautiful eyes of sky-blue, with the exact same expression that he had seen underneath the tide pool.

Whether it was from utter surprise, or the longing, burning desire in his heart to see her and be with her once more, he concentrated fiercer than he had ever done in his life, and he heard a sudden screech as the body of a great, flame-crowned phoenix suddenly materialized in front of him, letting out a great cry as it clawed the ground with its heated talons.

Then, the results of his mana exhaustion caught up with him, and there was a fierce explosion as the phoenix disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing except a trail of iridescent flame in its wake. Dimly, he registered that there were very painful burns covering much of his body, but he cared nothing except seeing that precious ice/lightning wizard one more time, to revisit the precious halcyon days before the whole mess with Gault.

He heard footsteps in the back of his head and turned his gaze to see Rathias Gardner, breathlessly running towards him as he displayed excitement for probably the first time Zeraion had ever seen him. "Phoenix, that- that was amazing!" he spluttered breathlessly, wiping perspiration from his forehead. "No one has ever managed to fully summon the Fire Phoenix on their third try in the history of Bera! How did you-"

Slightly unnerved by Gardner's sudden rise of interest in his abilities, Zeraion muttered something unintelligible as he wiped a tuft of blackened hair from his forehead. "If- if you don't mind, I'd…I'd like to take a walk and get some fresh air." he said, in a listless tone. "I'm a bit exhausted."

Gardner blinked for the faintest of moments before acquiescing with a nod. "If you must, then by all means, of course."

Muttering a hurried thanks, Zeraion stuffed the Abyssal Arund into his quiver and took off, in the direction where Grace's spectral form had been standing moments ago. The burns he'd acquired from using Fire Phoenix still lingered on his body, but he ignored it- love had completely caught him in its tender, treacherous embrace, and was now pulling him into the forest with reckless abandon.

He could feel the ancient bow thrumming with discontent against his back, which he disregarded, throwing into the back of his mind- quite frankly, he couldn't have cared less what anyone thought of him right now. Grace had completely vanished from physical view, but he could still, somehow, feel her presence in the forest- he silently pounded on throughout the trees, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his head that told him how corny that sounded.

He heard the bushes to his right rustle, and without pausing to think, he leapt aside and pushed aside the thorny branches, neglecting the many scratches that accumulated on his arms. As he ran, he thought he could hear footsteps, and shouted, "I'm coming!" as he forced aside a low-hanging branch with his arms.

He could almost hear her voice now, and she was close, so close…

With an almighty outtake of breath, he forced aside a group of interlocked tree limbs, the wood splintering as the aching in his extremities skyrocketed, sweat running from the back of his head and running into his hauberk. There were scratches all over the sleeves of his armor and on his cheeks from the thorn bushes, and he also realized he was very thirsty.

He took another deep breath and leaned against a tree trunk for support, glancing at the landscape. He was at Selena Pieralasca's statue, the elf staring stoically into the forest as her gown of cold marble stone fluttered almost lifelike at her heels, a Shinebow of gold-streaked stone slung across her back. Despairingly, he stared up at the figure of stone, his fist clenched, as tears streamed from under his eyelids. He was a fool, a perfect fool to go chasing into the monster-infested forest for somebody he didn't even know was there. Grace had been simply that- a hallucination of his overworked mind. The footsteps he had heard had probably been some wild animal- for Goddess' sake, why the _hell _had he even bothered to come all the way out here?!

Angrily, he yanked at a handful of his sweat-soaked hair and lashed out with a savage kick at the nearest tree. There was a loud snapping noise as both the tree bark and something in his foot cracked; Zeraion felt pain shoot up his right leg, but he ignored it; the pain in his gut was a hundred times worse, his stomach feeling like a dark pit of despair at this very moment.

He desperately cast one last look at the statue of Athena's great-grandmother before resignedly turning back into the forest and wiping tears and sweat from his face. Gardner would want him back to practice Fire Phoenix, after all…

"Phoenix."

The voice was magical, like a fairy's whisper, and he froze dead in his step as he heard her voice. Her tone had a touch of warmth in it, almost as though she were alive, even though he knew that couldn't be. He silently clenched his fist, his knuckles and his heart throbbing at inhuman speeds. If only, if only-

Zeraion Phoenix turned his head back and saw Grace Raizen illuminated by the evening sun against the marble sculpture of Selena Pieralasca's figure.

Somehow, she now looked different- her blonde hair was now slightly longer and and dangled past her waist, and instead of mage's robes, she wore a strange garment that looked like a cross between a toga and a bikini- but he paid little attention. All that mattered was that she was here, next to him.

Silently, his mouth dry, he took a step towards her, and she did not disappear. She only continued to stare sadly at him with her pearly eyes of blue, as though she knew his sorrow, shared it, was it.

For a second, his mind warned that this could be an illusion, a trap of Gault's, but he shut the thought out almost as soon as the possibility presented itself. Something as pure, as beautiful as this could never be evil, he thought, as he continued to lock gazes with her.

They stood, illuminated in the light of the dim sunset, ranger and mage, eyeing each other with eyes of blue, one with an expression of longing, the other with an expression of sorrow. The silence was so precious, almost tangible, as he tried to say something to her and felt the words die on his tongue.

Finally, after what seemed like a decade- a beautiful decade- of silence, she stood up and walked towards him, as he remained rooted to the spot. Her figure shimmered in the light, and although he knew in the back of his heart that she was nothing more than a spirit, that thought was thrown to the abyss as she touched his cheek with fingers made of real flesh and blood in that moment.

She silently gazed at him as her fingers caressed his cheek, her lips just inches away from his. He wanted to kiss her once more, but to do so now would utterly ruin the moment, so he merely remained stone and savored the moment as it passed.

Finally, she broke contact with him, leaving him feeling eerily empty inside as her fingers left the side of his face. He opened his mouth to say something- anything- but his words died in the face of her radiant beauty, as she turned away, her gaze gone from him.

Then, she looked back up at him, those eyes of pearly-blue scrutinizing him once more.

"Come with me, Phoenix." she whispered softly, as he could do nothing but watch. "There is something I would like to tell you."

* * *

"Shining Ray!" The shout erupted through the Ellinian sky as the priest unleashed another measure of his holy abilities, a pair of Crimson Balrogs falling to the forest floor, vanquished by the power of the arte. 

Dangerously alighting himself on the back of the gigantic cobalt-blue dragon he rode, Ascion Blade brushed sweaty, slightly bloodied hair from his face and shouldered the spear of light he currently held in his right hand, its enchanted handle firmly in the grip of his fingers.

With a primal yell, he flung the lance from his hand at an enemy on the ground, striking the Taurospear in the chest. It gave a howl of pain and surprise before it toppled to the ground, blood soaking into the Ellinian soil. A mirthless expression on his face, Ascion let sparks of light dangle at the corner of his fingers.

He brushed more sweat from his face and neck as he contemplated the destruction below him; the demonic forces had been severely driven back by his use of the sacramental flame, that holy force which no one dared use due to its staggering power. The ground below him was scarred pure white, a mark of the teenage magician's extraordinary skill and finesse.

He smiled dryly to himself, wondering if Iris had seen him. Of course she had- no one could have avoided seeing him fly all around the city on a wyvern the size of a small house- but had she really known he was there, seeing his face, imagining him in her heart…

He forced himself to put aside the mushy thoughts for a bit and nearly paid for it when a burst of lightning from a Crimson Balrog nearly knocked him off his seat. Cursing himself for his inattentiveness, he rewarded the attacker with a shout of "Reprisal!" The highly efficient arte did its work neatly as it carved the demon into two, the dismembered pieces hitting the ground below with a sickening thud.

To his credit, Ascion took another glance about him and realized with some comfort that the Crimson Balrogs were nearly all gone- most of them were now decorating the landscape of Ellinia with nightmarish shades of claret and obsidian. The few that remained were either avoiding him at all costs or fleeing from where they came.

Unfortunately, he quickly realized that that did nothing to help stem the flow of enemies coming from the ground. Despite their lack of power compared to their larger comrades, Taurospears and Tauromacis had the benefit of swift, deadly melee attacks and much greater range of movement and evasion. Even with his abilities, it would take quite a job to strike them down without hurting anyone else in the process.

Wondering for a moment when Schuyler's courier would get through to Ellinia and bring back reinforcements, Ascion bided his time by setting his palms together and commanding, _"Incandesca!"_ There was an almighty flash of light and a volcano-like explosion as a sudden torrent of sacramental flame poured forth from the ground, catching a wave of demons in its deadly wake. White smoke rose into the air as the beautiful, yet deadly streams of holy fire struck down tens and tens of demonic foes and stripped them down to ashes within moments.

He almost laughed as he thought of how he'd learned this technique- yeah, that would be a great thing to tell Iris after this whole fiasco was over. While reading from a textbook written by an ancient bishop when he was devising the wide-range healing arte, he'd taken note of a section that was labeled _"highly dangerous and should only be used in dire circumstances__",_ underlined and bolded several times in the text.

Naturally, _that_ had piqued the teenager's attention, and he then learned that sacramental flame was a highly dangerous technique used to banish demons forever from the earth, and only used successfully in history by two people: Lisandea, the legendary elven prophet of the first war with Razier, and Grendel himself.

Of course, the adolescent priest had no idea that there had been a third person after them; Rafael Wolfen, his very own father and a brilliant priest in his own right.

And that was how he'd gotten himself into this mess, blasting demons into purgatory with claps of his hands while riding on top of a huge dragon- although Ascion made sacramental flame look almost easy, not even Rafael's progeny was immune to such difficult artes. He had sustained a nasty burn on his left shoulder and arm while practicing; the skin and flesh, burned a ghastly, lifeless white, would never heal. Currently, he kept the wound covered with a sleeve at all times- it was the best he could do.

While Ascion silently brooded upon his dragon in mid-air, occasionally taking the time to snipe down an enemy from below with a shout of "Eclair de Larmes!" or "Shining Ray!", Iris, Joe, and Schuyler, among countless others, were still fighting valiantly against the demons that threatened their existence and their home.

"Avenger!" the blonde-haired hermit bellowed upon the ground, flinging a gigantic spectral star composed of three Steely knives fused together at his enemies, while his shadowed replica repeated his maneuver, flinging one as well. The gigantic projectiles crushed one Taurospear into bloody thirds and embedded themselves in the armor of a second behind it, who collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap.

Joseph Stalrigarde silently regarded his fallen foe with a sharp gaze and folded his left hand in his pocket, keeping a shining knife in the fingers of his right. Although it gave him an enormous advantage in battle, he rarely used alchemy on the pretense of not drawing attention, preferring instead to stick to basic shuriken-do techniques.

However, following Ascion Blade's example, sometimes a little attention was needed to turn the battle in their favor.

He shook his head and drew more knives from the inside of his trench coat, flinging them at various monsters hiding amongst the landscape. As they charged at him, he swiftly planted his palm upon the ground and commanded, "Flare Transmutation!"

Elements in the air diffused as the ground blew itself apart in brilliant bursts of red, orange, and white flame, pieces of earth and Taurospear being flung every which way. He swiftly cast his eyes around the ravaged ground; the ground was either burned a brilliant white or a dark black from various spells that had been cast earlier.

"Please." There was a slight scoffing noise behind him and the alchemist turned to see Schuyler Kusanagi standing behind him with her Kage drawn. "You're embarrassing all us fire mages."

A tinge of pink rippled across the hermit's cheeks. "Who asked you?" he muttered, drawing another Steely from his jacket. "In any case, it's all I can do to not get myself blown up here, not with Taurospears swarming the place-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." There was a laissez-faire expression on Schuyler's face that implied she was paying more attention to the background than him. "I'd like to see more of your ersatz magic tricks later, but I need you to do me a favor."

Joe's cheeks flushed a slight shade of fuchsia. "What kind of favor?" he muttered, tucking his left hand into his jacket pocket.

She gave him a look as though there was a tree growing from his forehead. "I wanted you to check the frontlines and see the stats on the enemy forces." she stated, her voice carrying no indication that she was implying anything else.

The hermit blanched ever so slightly, his face color returning to normal, before nodding and muttering, "Of- of course." Commanding "Flash Jump!", his feet left the ground in a burst of light as he flew through the trees like a bullet.

Schuyler rumpled her hair and muttered something inaudible under her breath as she watched the hermit's shadow streak through the trees. Her father had been right- thieves _were_ idiots.

Well, most of them, at least, as her gaze turned towards the corpses and the scars in the earth that his transmutations had left behind.

She sighed once more, as her mind tried to work through the logistical nightmare that the fight had become. She tried to recall where the magical assault teams were in her mind, but the numbers scrambled with every second as her heart pounded and they gave her a headache.

They had Ascion, of course, and Joseph- certainly, the presence of the sons of the great Rafael Wolfen and Valter Stalrigarde in this battle didn't hurt matters. But be that as it may, two prodigies couldn't take on thousands and thousands of demons swarming the lands of Ellinia.

Two rhetorical questions presented themselves in her mind: How many more demons were they going to have to kill before this battle ended, and where the hell were those goddamned Elaesians? With Ascion and Joe using the best of their abilities, the battle had been in a deadlock; they needed just a few more units to tip the battle in their favor.

That was the last thing that flashed through her mind before a sudden fireball slammed into her chest.

Caught head-on by the devastating spell coming at her, she barely had time to make a sound before the force of the spell slammed her into an incoming tree, the trunk cracking from the force of impact. She hit the forest floor limply as blood seeped from the gigantic scar in her chest, pain exploding through her body as she struggled desperately to hang on to what little life she had left.

It seemed as if the world had turned itself upside down, shades of green, red and blue melting in front of her eyes into monochromatic hues of black and white. Magicians and Tauros became distorted blurs in her eyes as blood seeped from her mouth, pain splitting any attempt at coherent thought in her mind. She had perhaps minutes to live.

Silently uttering a denial and a desperate plea in her mind, she folded her hands across her blood-soaked lap as she prayed for a miracle- but Ascion was probably several hundred feet up in the sky, and he could probably see no more of her than she could of him. She wished somebody- anyone- could see her, but there was no hope left as people rushed by in the heat of battle without taking the least notice of the near-death mage splayed against the tree.

Then, suddenly, a figure blocked her line of sight- a tall, forbidding figure, with long, dark hair streaming behind his shoulders, as his dark eyes pierced through her and a gigantic bow lay slung over his shoulder. Although she could not see his face in her near-death state, she knew well enough to figure out that he was probably not on her side.

She only closed her eyes and waited for death to be swift.

Unexpectedly, she felt a strong, yet gentle hand being pressed against her wound as a voice muttered, "Chakra." Light flashed in her eyes as an iridescent array of magic spread through her body, leaving a warm, comforting sensation that washed through her like a wave. The wound in her chest sealed itself, leaving smooth, slightly tender skin behind as the bleeding abruptly stopped.

Opening her eyes, she realized two things at once: no, she was not dead, and there was somebody standing in front of her.

Her head feeling slightly dizzy, she tried to get to her feet, but the voice held her back, pinning her to the ground with a firm, strong, grip. "Don't move." a rough, gruff voice told her. "You're still very weak and you need to rest."

Obeying the voice meekly, she settled for letting her vision slide back into focus as a wave of color washed over her, reds, greens, and blues returning to their proper place as the sounds of battle came back to her ears. As her pupils dilated, she could see that the person towering above her had long, dark hair and slightly pale skin, a scar at the nape of his neck as a black-winged bow rested in his grip. His eyes were sharp, unfeeling, as he cast his gaze over her as though she was nothing more than a house pet. Somehow, she felt as though she'd seen him before- but from what time or what place, she did not know.

"Hmph." The tall figure gave a shrug and turned his gaze away from her. "You should be thankful you're alive. Not many people can get hit by a fireball from a Crimson Balrog at full force and live to tell the tale."

A tiny pulse of indignation bursting through her veins, she staggered to her feet, despite the aching in her brain, and faced down the stranger with as much dignity as she could muster in her voice. "Although I appreciated you saving my life, I will have you know that I am the leader of the Ellinian resistance forces, Schuyler Kusanagi."

"Although I appreciate your gratitude," the bowman replied in kind, somewhat wryly, "I will have you know that I am a ranger from Elaesia, Traphes Igzarion."

"Igzarion…" She let her lips roll over the unfamiliar name, trying to place just exactly where she'd heard it before. "Have we met?" she asked, out of curiosity.

"Not unless you were at that little skirmish that we had some time back near the Henesys dungeon." he said, in the same wry tone.

"W-wait." she muttered, putting up a hand to steady herself and ease the aching in her head. "Igzarion…You were there when Wolfen got blasted and Blade and Stalrigarde did the alchemic surgery-"

"Yes, I was." he replied, with a wayward wave of his hand. "I see you've gone a long way since I met you last."

"Hm." She brushed off the compliment and eyed Igzarion carefully. "If you came from Elaesia, does that mean our courier arrived there yet? Because Goddess knows we need the reinforcements." she added, in a slightly pleading tone.

Igzarion shook his head in denial. "I wouldn't know. Delinia and I arrived straight from Florina Beach- however, she did mention that Luke was coming here…yes." he murmured, a look of remembrance spreading across his face. "Athena did send at least one regiment to Ellinia, so I believe yes, any messages you may have sent have indeed arrived."

"Well- why aren't they bloody here yet?!" she snarled in frustration, kicking a stone on the ground with her foot (and consequently doing more damage to her foot than the stone).

Igzarion merely closed his eyes and mentally contemplated the war-drenched landscape. "Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Kusanagi."

"Well, in any case…" She brushed a tuft of ashy hair from her eyes and gave the ranger a quick nod. "Once more, I thank you for coming to my aid, and I trust that with your aid- and the rest of the Elaesian reinforcements- we will win this battle."

Igzarion's eyes locked briefly with hers before he nodded. "Yes." With a quick flick of his wrist, he commanded, "Silver Hawk!" The great bird appeared out of thin air with a bright burst of light, clawing the ground at its master's feet as its talons thirsted for bloodshed. Not waiting to take a second glance around him, Igzarion deftly mounted the great bird and soared into the air, his Metus already limbered and strung. The ground quickly disappeared underneath his feet as his altitude rose into the hundreds.

Drawing his bow and scanning the landscape for any enemies that might need slaughtering, Igzarion quickly found a target in a pair of Wild Kargos roaming the landscape and tearing at chunks of corpses on the ground below. "Soul Arrow…Double Shot!" he commanded, light flashing about him as he let loose a pair of golden shafts towards the ground below. The arrows hit their marks with grotesque noises, the bodies of the beasts slumping towards the ground.

A Crimson Balrog slashed at him, but dodging was already second nature to him; he quickly evaded the onslaught and paid retribution by lifting up his fingers in preparation and chanting, "Hell Pyre!" There was a great explosion as dark magic and fire energy fused at the tips of the ranger's fingers before the whole mass launched itself into the demon's prone body, a mangled, burnt mess of sinew dropping to the ground below. Smiling somewhat sardonically as the sensation of bloodlust washed over him, the ranger raised his bow and commanded, "Strafe!"

The four-pronged attack quickly made short work of a Taurospear on the ground below, its mutilated body hitting the ground with a neat thud as its slayer hovered above. Ready to cast an arcane or artificial arte if need be, Igzarion quickly glanced around the landscape, but there was nothing that alerted him to any immediate danger.

There were shouts and explosions on the ground below, and the ranger let his gaze wander to the forest floor, where he could see an iridescent shaft of red-white flame slaking through Tauros and Kargos like butter. Sighing lightly to himself as he put a hand to his forehead, Igzarion guided the hawk downwards and landed next to Arklanser with a soft thud.

"Delinia." he said, alighting upon the ground with his bow in hand, as she pretended not to notice him. "I see you're having fun."

"Do you think I enjoy being out here?" she replied with a snarl, arcing her wrist upwards and causing the edge of her flaming battlestaff to ricochet off the face of an unfortunate Taurospear. "It's good battle practice, I'll admit that, but this is war, Iggy. This isn't just a training session at Florina Beach or something-"

"Right." the latter muttered, looking as though he could have cared less whether he was in a war zone or a peaceful plain. "There aren't a lot of enemies left- we should be able to take them all out within the next hour or so."

"Have the rest of the Ellinian reinforcements arrived yet?" Arklanser replied briskly, her hair flying behind her as she bashed another Wild Kargo aside with the hilt of her weapon.

Igzarion blinked and sighed. "No."

The rangeress swore briefly before causing her staff to disappear with a flick of her wrist, drawing her White Nisrock instead. "Inferno!" she bellowed, a burst of magenta-colored flame erupting from the limbs of her bow and streaking across the plains. The enchanted flames swallowed anything that dared come close to them, destruction reigning supreme over the plains.

Slightly bored of his own accord, despite the pitched battle erupting around them, Igzarion drew his own bow as well. "Strafe!" he commanded, unleashing a barrage of arrows at a small troupe of Taurospears near them. "So," he muttered quickly as the wounded beasts let out a bloody roar and charged, "what do you suppose your dear Colonel is up to?"

Arklanser's face flushed for the briefest of moments as she accidentally twanged her string a little too hard, sending a burst of magical flame into a thicket several hundred feet away. "He'll come." she said stubbornly, more to reassure herself than him.

"He had better." Igzarion muttered grimly, as he unleashed another Strafe to cope with the monsters that were coming towards him. "If I find out I got dragged all the way here for nothing, I'm going to rip off his-"

"Shut up, Iggy, and enjoy the view." Arklanser snapped back in kind, deftly raising an arm over the destroyed, burnt mess that Ellinia's plains had become. Blood and corpses decorated the forest as red and green dominated the area, like grotesque Christmas decorations.

With two of Elaesia's feared Devil Children entering the fray, the monsters were noticeably thinned, so that the remaining magicians had an easier time dealing with them. Slowly but surely, the battle began to turn in favor of the magicians as Ascion, Joe, Igzarion, and Arklanser spearheaded the main force of the Ellinians, driving the monsters back as hundreds of them were struck down.

Unfortunately, about half an hour into the combat, just when it seemed for the briefest of moments that all would be well and they could go home safely, there was a loud yell above from Ascion. Abruptly, he turned in mid-air and dove towards the ground, alighting with an earth-shaking thud. He quickly petted the dragon once before causing it to disappear with a motion of his wrist, then reappeared next to Schuyler with a quick whisper of "Teleport."

Because she was blasting away at a troop of Tauromacis from above, she didn't notice him until he tapped her on the shoulder. "What is it, Blade?" she asked, seeing the urgency on his face.

"There was a convoy of Crimson Balrogs on the horizon." he reported, his face deadly serious. "I couldn't count them from my current position, but I would have to say it's anywhere between 500 and 1,000."

Schuyler's eyes widened for a brief moment before she swore loudly, the foul language sounding like a broken record in her head. "How much more stuff can they throw at us?!"

"A lot." Ascion muttered, somewhat wryly. "It took those Elaesians long enough; if they don't get here soon, then we're all-"

The dismal statement was interrupted by a thunderous explosion, as both Ascion and Schuyler cast Magic Guard at the same time to protect themselves from flying shrapnel.

The Crimson Balrogs had arrived once more, and this time, they were ready to follow the commands of their master and lord to wipe Ellinia from the face of the earth.

* * *

I simply stood there, not knowing what to say. 

"Come here, Phoenix." she repeated, her voice and her expression beckoning to me- as did every other part of her body, for that matter.

I wanted to, I wanted to. I wanted to throw myself to the winds and not have to worry that this could be a trap or an ambush of some sort. I wanted to throw myself into her arms, to tell myself this wasn't an illusion.

But alas, it was not to be. Keeping a firm grip on the Abyssal Arund, I silently returned her gaze and watched as she slowly turned away from me, and then abruptly began to walk deeper into the forest.

"Wait!" I shouted, but she acted as if she had not heard, her silhouette disappearing farther and farther among the trees. Not wanting to lose sight of her, I followed, ignoring the countless branches and thorn bushes that grabbed at my arms and face. She moved as a spirit, as a goddess, her spectral form gliding over trees and rocks as though they never existed.

Still keeping sight of her long, blonde hair, billowing behind her in an invisible breeze, I quickly called "Inferno!" to burn aside a large thicket of thorns that stood in my way, pushing aside the burnt mess and soldering on. She did not look back at me as she walked, but I followed her with every step, determined never to lose her again.

Then, suddenly, she turned to the right, and I followed as I saw a few strands of golden hair disappear behind a tree. With the handle of the Abyssal Arund sweaty in my hand, I pushed aside a few branches and found, to my great amazement, that she was standing on the edge of a large meadow, her hair fluttering at her waist as she silently regarded the landscape.

The scene was amazing; it was as though someone had ripped out a piece of the peaceful Henesys hunting grounds and put it in the middle of the large forest on the Isle, the most dangerous things being snails and mushrooms as a light breeze lapped at my cheeks. Here, the thick forest canopy had disappeared, and I could see to my amazement that the sky was visible, a great scene of red, orange, yellow and purple as the sun set, casting the last of its dim light over the grass. It was perfect, so perfect, and Grace and I were in it alone.

Without warning, she turned her head to look at me and smiled, as though she knew I'd been following her the whole time. Lightning and ice crackled at the tips of her fingers, lending her a deadly, yet still more beautiful look.

For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to truly be in love, as she eyed me upon the sweet meadows of the Isle. Privately, in the back of my mind, I wondered if Gardner had ever felt this sensation before, with the mystery woman of his dreams- who that was, I could only guess, but from his forty years and his life experience, I guessed that Bera's foremost Bowmaster could certainly afford a little romance in his life.

However, thoughts of Rathias Gardner were quickly thrown out of my head as Grace sat down, her back lying against a slanted hill of grass. She looked up and motioned for me to sit down next to her; I obeyed meekly as the soft grass and flowers brushed against my body.

Together, we sat like this, watching the sunset, even though I knew not what her intentions were, or even where she had come from. But, for the sake of the moment, I didn't care. She was here, the same as when I had met her near Selena's statue. It was a precious moment, and I wished fervently in my head that the memories of it would stay forever.

It was she who broke the silence, pensively eyeing the horizon as though she expected something to happen at any moment.

"You've changed, Phoenix."

The sound of her voice stunned me for a moment before I found the courage to reply, "Yes- yes, I suppose." It felt very odd talking to her, since the second-to-last time I had seen her, we had been locked in a deathmatch on the rainy plains of Henesys, but all that vanished when I found myself looking into those beautiful blue eyes.

She kneaded the grass lightly with her fingers and murmured, "I've changed as well, Phoenix, haven't I?" There was something rhetorical, almost regretful, in her voice as she asked the question.

I couldn't reply, despite the fact that dozens of possible answers were dangling on the tip of my tongue. Privately, I could not bear to repeat the truth that rested in the back of my mind- she was dead, her soul in Gault's grasp, no longer the living, breathing being she had been just a few precious years ago.

She silently waited for an answer for about a minute before receiving none, and turned to watching the sunset once more. My insides were burning with curiosity- there was so much I wanted to ask her, but a bit of caution held back my questions for a moment. If Gardner was in this situation, he would probably choose his words with a bit more care. Despite the fact that Grace was here, here at last, I couldn't relax myself completely- after all, there was always the horrible possibility that whatever I spoke here could end up in Gault's ears moments later.

I finally decided to say the one thing I had wanted to say the most since she'd arrived.

"I miss you, Grace." I murmured, as I followed her gaze towards the blood-red sun. Her eyes were riveted upon it, and I couldn't help wondering if she was thinking of the countless people she'd killed under Gault's care when she looked at it.

Her gaze finally turned back to my hand. "I've missed you too, Phoenix." she admitted, a few strands of her hair whipping into her face.

"So…" I tried to think of something to break the ice. "Why are you here?"

She considered the seemingly simple question a moment before responding. "Because I wanted to."

"You came all the way here to see me?" I asked, in a slightly mock tone. Privately, I knew there was no way in hell that Gault would let his best secret weapon wander into the hands of his archenemy.

"Yes, Phoenix." she said, a slight sign of emotion showing in her eyes. "I wanted to see you after all that time in Meteon E'traia. Was that too much to ask?" Her hand was suddenly resting on top of mine, and it was a strange feeling- although I couldn't feel the exact contour of solid mass on my skin, I could feel warmth pulsing through my fingers, almost as if her hand was inside mine.

"How could you?" I whispered, a bit of sadness coming into my tone. "Isentryx would never let you out of his grasp, not after he killed you. I…I wish I could believe that you actually cared so much for me, but it just-"

I broke off the end of my sentence. The pain of holding her bloodied hand and telling her I loved her two years ago was just too much for me to bear.

She sighed and let her fingers caress the ground. "Isentryx…knew about our relationship, Phoenix. He knew about your feelings for me, and he was determined to use this to his advantage. Using an ancient and highly dangerous type of soul transmutation, he bound my soul into a physical form and restored me to this world. By the ancient laws of magic, I am now bound to him and can only follow his will."

Her words were spoken without reproach, yet they struck me like hammer blows. Damn Gault, damn him to hell! For what seemed like hundredth time, my blood boiled in my veins as I thought of him, somewhere in the depths of Victoria Island. Someday, I would find him and make him pay for what he'd done.

I slid my left hand in my jacket pocket and plucked a daisy from the earth with my right, examining it closely as though it were all the treasure in the world. Once upon a happier time, I would have plucked its petals to find out Grace's sentiments, but those days were long since gone.

"Is…" I let the words slip out my mouth before I could stop myself. "Is there any way that you can break free of Gault's control over you?"

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, raking the ground with her fingers. I could see her choosing her words carefully in her mind as her hair fluttered over her shoulders.

"If Isentryx chooses to do so, he could relinquish his control over my spirit," Grace slowly murmured, painstakingly crumbling bits of earth between her fingers, "although I cannot see why he would ever have any reason to do so."

My blood simmered softly as I crushed the daisy in my fist. If it was the last thing I ever did, I promised myself I would make that bastard ever regret having killed her in the first place.

"Why did you come back?" I asked slowly, a question from the deepest depths from my heart.

Grace sighed balefully and slowly turned her head towards me, her blonde hair falling over her eyes. "I am not sure if I should tell you, Phoenix. The truth…may hurt you more than you think."

"Tell me." I uttered, staring directly into her eyes. "Grace, I care about you. I want to know, and I'll only regret it if I don't find out before it's too late."

She stared into the horizon before she spoke. "Isentryx was worried that my feelings towards you could be detrimental towards his plans. He attempted to destroy all my memories of you with a powerful temporal arte known as _Obliviate_. The spell was highly dangerous and it worked to the desired effect, but it also destroyed some of his control over me. During brief lapses- such as this one- I can visit you when I so desire, before I am called back to the halls of Meteon E'traia."

I opened my mouth in surprise and closed it- now I knew I hadn't been hallucinating. She had been here, been here all this time.

"You…really lost all your memories?" I whispered, staring at her and praying it wasn't true.

She gazed sadly at me with her blue eyes and murmured, "All except one, Phoenix."

Then, she drew closer to me and kissed me tenderly with lips that weren't there, as I sunk into her warm embrace, feeling her and imagining she was here right next to me, as memories both painful and bittersweet washed over me from years ago. It was both heart-wrenching and precious at the same time, as I melted into her knowing that it would be the last kiss we would share for a long time.

After what seemed like a precious eternity, she broke away from me, and I could see her sad, knowing smile in the dim light. "Phoenix, I'm afraid we may never see each other again after this."

"Never." I whispered, grabbing at her hand in the grass; though my fingers touched nothing except thin air, I could still feel her warmth on my skin. "Mark my words, Grace; someday, I will save you from Gault's evil clutches. I will bring back your soul, and we can be together again. And then," I added, almost as an afterthought, "when you're back with me, I'll take you wherever you want to go- together, just the two of us."

She almost smiled. Almost. "Anywhere?" she whispered, her voice beginning to fade, just like the sunset's rays.

"Yes, Grace." I whispered, clutching her fingers with what little energy I had left. "Anywhere you want."

This time, she really did smile- although somewhat sadly- as she caressed my cheek with her fingers. "I'd love that, Phoenix." she whispered, her voice growing fainter and fainter by the second.

"Good-bye, Grace." I whispered, as she got up and began to walk off in the sunset, to places I could only guess. As her figure left me, I knew in my heart that this would be the last time I would see her for a long time…but by no means would it be the last.

I would make sure of that.

Before she left the meadow, she turned to face me, and although it was difficult to see her in the dim light, I could still see her beautiful blue eyes, regretfully shining at me through the darkness like stars.

"Phoenix…" she whispered, as a tiny starlit tear fell from her left eye onto the ground below.

"…I'm sorry."

* * *

Both Ascion and Schuyler dived for cover as explosions erupted around, above and below them, bodies being thrown through the air as the acrid smell of smoke and blood filled the area once more. 

"What's going on?!" Ascion roared through the dark smoke that the explosions kicked up. "I can't see a bloody thing- Dispel!" he roared, light emanating from his hands and illuminating the landscape. "Schuyler! Are you all right?!"

Said fire mage staggered to her feet and spat on the ground. "It'll take more than an explosion to kill me, Blade." she muttered in a dry tone (although with an ominous undercurrent in her voice). "Someone's got to get rid of the Crims quick, though."

"I'm on it." Ascion drew a blue stone from his jacket pocket and bellowed, "Summon Dragon!" There was a familiar roar as the gigantic weyr burst from the air in front of him once more; without a second thought, he mounted the great beast as Schuyler climbed up next to him. The dragon kicked up great clouds of dust as it took off and soared into the air, its wings unfurled as both magicians confronted the wave of incoming Balrogs.

"This is going to take a bit of fancy maneuvering, Blade." Schuyler muttered as the Balrogs bore down on them, claws and wings raised.

"I know, I know." Ascion sighed. "Use the most powerful arte you've got when I say three, okay?" He kicked the dragon's flank, and it obediently rose up into the air as both magicians aimed for their targets. "One…two…three!"

Both magicians cast simultaneously, Ascion roaring, _"Incandesca!"_ while Schuyler bellowed, _"Quantum Explosion!"_ The air seemed to shimmer and vibrate for a moment before the sky exploded. Waves of magical force pulsed through the air as white flame and golden energy collided in midair, gigantic explosions of white flame rocking the landscape and soaring towards the incoming group of demons. The Balrogs barely had time to howl before the great wave of flame consumed them, leaving nothing but snow-white ashes in its wake.

Ascion flew higher into the air, both he and Schuyler looking as though they had just been locked in a gigantic oven for some time. Despite their protective wards, burns and scorch marks still covered most of their clothing, and a strand of Ascion's hair was on fire.

"That…was fun." Ascion muttered humorlessly, sounding like he would have had more fun being eaten alive by a Balrog. "Heal." He raised his wand as a sheen of bright green magic threw itself over the two magicians, enveloping them in a refreshing aura as their wounds healed. Ascion pinched out the glowing ember of his hair and slowly flew towards the ground, keeping a sharp eye out for any demons that might have survived the attack.

"Don't go so fast, I think I'm going to be sick." Schuyler muttered, holding a hand to her mouth. Her face looked a little too green for the leader of the Ellinian resistance forces.

"I'm barely moving as it is." the priest replied, slightly annoyed as he guided the great dragon to the ground, allowing Schuyler to disembark. There was a loud retching noise as Schuyler violently threw up on the corpse of a Taurospear; Ascion put a hand to his forehead and shook his head.

Forcing himself to look away from the vertigo-stricken mage, Ascion looked upwards into the sky and saw that despite the magnitude of their combined attack, the assault had only eliminated the bare frontlines of the Balrog force; hundreds more were still coming at them, ready to attack as they descended upon the now-greatly weathered magicians and thieves still struggling to defend the city's defensive line.

Ascion closed his eyes and muttered a string of elvish curses. Did he really think it was this easy- just cast a big arte and expect this whole thing to end? Fatigue pressed upon him like a two-ton weight as he brushed blood, sweat, and ash from his face.

They had to keep fighting. _He_ had to keep fighting.

He raised his Magicodar and was about to call the incantation for sacramental flame before he stopped himself. He didn't want to drain further into his already-exhausted mana reserves- better to just stick with simple spells for now.

Snapping his fingers, he commanded, "Holy Arrow!" as a very light amount of mana drain came over him. The brilliant bow and arrow materialized in his hands with a burst of light as the projectile flew forward, applying great damage to an incoming Balrog- but unfortunately, it was still alive, and very much intent on ripping his guts out.

Before he could react, the thing slammed its great spiked tail into his body, and he felt the wind being knocked out of him as he flew through the air and crashed into a tree, blood running down his face. His Magicodar had flown out of his hand and was now lost upon the ground somewhere, and he was practically helpless. Even if he had his wand, it would do little good- the Magic Guard he'd cast over himself had drained much of his mana as well as his stamina.

He could only stare up at the figure of the great Balrog as it loomed over him, its great paw raised as dark magic crackled at the tips of its claws.

Then, there was a sudden roar of "Strafe!" and Ascion watched in amazement as four spectral arrows streamed behind him and struck the Balrog straight in the chest, causing it to howl wildly in pain as it searched for its attacker. It got its answer when there was a second shout of "Inferno!" from behind, a bolt of crisp, red-hot flame erupting through the air and barreling straight into the great demon's chest.

With a great shriek, as the torrid scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air, the Balrog fell to the ground dead, and Ascion now had the opportunity to look at his benefactor. Tall, with wild shoulder-length reddish-auburn hair, as a golden-colored Nisrock lay in the grip of his right hand. He wore a sleek blue jacket over his armor plates, as the symbol of a hawk lay emblazoned on the right sleeve of his uniform. Behind him, Ascion could see a large contingent of more bowmen wearing similar clothing, their weapons drawn and strung.

"Are…" Ascion coughed as he looked at the face, thinking that it looked familiar from somewhere. "Are you Elaesian?"

"We're not demons, and that's all you need to know." The ranger brushed a bit of his hair out of his face before he gave a brief salute. "It's an honor to meet you, Brigadier General. I am Col. Luke Sinclaire of Elaesia's Alpha Division, Epsilon Regiment. We were sent by Athena to aid you in defending the city of Ellinia, which we were told was being besieged by Balrogs. Oh, and you dropped this back there." he added, handing Ascion a dark, crystalline object which the latter quickly realized as his wand.

"Well, you could have arrived a bit earlier." Ascion muttered gruffly, pocketing his weapon and drawing himself to his full height (although he was still a head shorter than Sinclaire.) "Nevertheless, on behalf of everyone stationed here, I thank you for arriving in the nick of time, and also for saving my life." Ascion allowed a bit of humility to creep into his voice as he said the last four syllables.

Sinclaire bowed. "Don't mention it. Forward!" he commanded to the bowmen behind him, as they rushed to take the frontlines against the incoming demons. "Oh, by the way," he said in an aside to Ascion as people streamed about them, "have you seen a rangeress by the name of Delinia Arklanser, by any chance?"

Ascion blinked briefly before replying, "No, I haven't received any reports of anyone except you guys arriving in this area. You may want to check with Schuyler Kusanagi, though- she's the commanding officer of the Ellinian resistance. If anyone arrived here, she should know about it."

Sinclaire gave another nod and handed a small box to the priest before striding into the forest, no doubt in search of his lost companion. Ascion's eyes followed him briefly before he silently clenched his wand and commanded "Heal." through his teeth. A wave of bright green mana washed over him, staunching his wounds as though they had never been there. Taking note of the box in his hands, which he realized was a medical kit, Ascion opened the case to find a series of prepackaged pills in a variety of colors. He quickly threw a few blue-tinted capsules in his mouth, ignoring the bitter taste, and roughly stuffed the rest in his pocket as he felt his strength return.

Wishing for a brief moment that Ark could be here with him, Ascion rubbed at his aching eyes and settled for glancing around the landscape. With Sinclaire and what seemed like hundreds of bowmen on their side, they could not fail now. He took off at a quick pace, deciding not to expend precious mana on his dragon summoning for now, and charged along with the rest of the colonel's regiment. The cries of war were renewed as the newly-replenished forces of both sides collided against each other, bolts of fire and lightning whizzing everywhere as the death toll continued to mount.

_I need more room to cast. _Following Schuyler's example, Ascion flicked his wrist and commanded "Teleport!" Within seconds, he was nestled within the tall branches of a large tree, leaning against its gnarled surface; his sharp eyes scanned the surface of the battlegrounds below. He raised his wand, aiming it at the ground, and commanded, "Holy Arrow!"

A modest orb of white light gathered at the tip of his Magicodar before launching itself towards the ground, piercing a Tauromacis through the skull. Despite the 2nd-class arte's lack of power, Ascion's intellect could compensate for the weak damage, and he flung bolts of light at any enemy that dared show its face, choosing quick stealth attacks over larger, flashier artes.

The fight dragged on as more Tauros and more humans steadily piled up on the plains of Ellinia. A foul stench had already begun to rest over the battlefield, similar to Schuyler's powerful poison in nature as it blanketed both sides with the scent of death and rot. The Balrogs in the air were being sniped at by Sinclaire's regiment of archers on the ground, and the Tauros could easily be taken care of by Ascion, Schuyler, Joseph, and the rest that fought on the ground below.

It seemed that a single decisive moment could decree which side snatched victory from the proverbial jaws of defeat. And unbeknownst to Ascion, Schuyler or anyone below on the battlefield save for Gault Isentryx, that one moment was coming soon.

* * *

She stepped onto the battlefield, her eyes cruel orbs of unfeeling silver as her hair danced about her in a symphony of death. 

Her gelid touch extended far beyond the reaches of her fingers. The Balrogs and Tauromacis felt it first as she entered from the west side of Ellinia, a seemingly icy shadow spreading across the bloodstained grounds. The demons of the Sanctuary, crazed with bloodlust, paused for the most fleeting of moments as she passed by, as if they themselves were frightened by the being that lurked on their side.

The chilling effect quickly spread from one side of the field to the next, like icy water. Those that saw her were at once taken aback by her beauty and her inherent danger. Those that didn't could still heard the swish of her robes as she walked across the field, could still feel the icy touch that she brought with every step, almost as if she were Lucifer herself, reincarnated for all the world to see.

Even the nature took notice. Those few trees that had not been cut down or burned to ashes seemed to shiver for a moment, their leaves ruffled by gusts of wind that were not there. The vultures that had gathered at the topmost branches to feast gave loud squawks and flew away to find their meal somewhere else, as did every other creature that happened to be in proximity.

Without even uttering the faintest of sounds, she raised her arm as sparks began to converge at her fingers. Then, all of a sudden, there was an almighty flash of light, as if the very fabric of time and space had stopped to fuse itself into the hand of the waiting mage that stood on the plains of Ellinia.

The light faded to reveal a gigantic lance, its height as tall as two men as it crackled sinisterly with blue-gold lightning. Its great blade was about two feet long, its handle encrusted with great pearls of onyx that seemed to shimmer like demons' eyes. Runes were inscribed on the hilt of the spear, visible in the dim light as she twirled it through the air, burying its silvered head in the ground.

She cast her emotionless eyes across the battlefield, humans and demons locked in a battle for the land as war cries and explosions tore through the landscape.

_"Stop."_ she commanded, raising her left palm.

The effect was instantaneous. Every single being on the plains of Ellinia- whether they be human or demon- froze for a split second, trying to see where the mysterious voice had come from. Her voice, magically amplified through use of a simple spell, carried through the forest with all the authority of Fate itself, emotionless in its tone yet its message perfectly clear.

With satisfaction, she saw that the eyes of everyone in the field were now focused on her and the great shimmering spear in her hand. She continued, carrying out her master's orders.

_"You have fought valiantly defending your lands. However, destruction is inevitable. Already you have suffered heavy losses and your forces are greatly diminished. The lives of our demons are nothing compared to those of your friends, of your families, your brothers and sisters. My lord is merciful and does not wish any more blood spilled upon the lands of Bera._

_"My lord has bid me deliver the message that he seeks only one amongst you. The rest of you may leave, to return to your families, your friends, your loves. I speak now directly to this person- you have fought bravely against my lord. However, he does not wish that you continue the fighting and senselessly waste the lives of your friends and countrymen. He asks that you join him, and aid him in his determination and quest to reform the world of Bera and reinstate its former glory._

_"You have two options. The first is to surrender yourself for the sake of your friends and the ones you love, and prevent further bloodshed from occurring. The second is for you to fight to the death, and have every last one of you slaughtered like animals upon these plains. My lord does not wish to take such extreme measures against the citizens of Ellinia, but if need be, he will resort to violence if his merciful request is not accepted."_

Absolute silence fell over the plains as she delivered the ultimatum, not a soul moving, Balrog, Tauromacis/spear, or human. She could see shock and distress scrawled all over the humans' faces, and privately, she smiled- more chaos was good. It would bring more destruction. She hoped they suffered as they died.

Finally, one person, an auburn-haired ranger with a golden-colored hawkshead bow clutched in his shaking knuckles, mustered the courage to call out, "Who is this person you speak of, that your lord seeks single-mindedly?!"

She turned towards him and smiled, a thin curve of death in the rays of the setting sun, and he flinched. _"The person I speak of is one Ascion Avelyn Blade, son of the priest Rafael Wolfen and the crusader Avelyn Blade, born on the fourth day of the fourth month of the year AB 2192."_

Shock immediately prevailed amongst the humans' astonished expressions as a kind of ripple flew through the ranks of people, all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the priest before turning back to face her.

However, no one's facial expression, not even that of Ascion Blade's himself, could rival that which struck Iris Gaiden's face.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing- Ascion, the underage prodigy that she'd known since he was thirteen and her classmate in the Ellinian Magic Academy, was suddenly being marked for death by some crazy mage claiming to pledge allegiance to some "lord"? A series of different emotions hit her with surprising rapidity; bewilderment, shock, panic, and finally, something she couldn't quite place. It felt like…dare she say it?…heartbreak.

No, that couldn't be, she told herself, as she shook her head and forced herself to remain calm. He was only sixteen, and for Goddess' sake, he was just a child! She couldn't- she couldn't actually be in love with him…

…could she?

The uncomfortable question presented itself to her for a moment before she heard a strange noise coming from the back of the crowd that the Ellinian forces had become. Craning her neck to see the source of the commotion, she saw, to her utter amazement and horror, Ascion silently making his way towards Grace, his face shadowed as he kept his head bowed to the ground, like a prisoner about to be executed on death row.

Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as he made his way past her, not giving any indication that he had noticed her. As her gaze wildly alternated between Ascion and Grace, she saw the great spear that she carried at her side, and her heart filled with dread.

She didn't know what Grace was going to do with him, nor did she know if he had a backup plan in that comprehensive mind of his, but it probably went without saying that whatever was going to happen when he reached her was not going to be good.

"Ascion!" she hissed urgently, grabbing ahold of his hand like a viper and keeping a vice grip on his wrist, as he winced briefly in pain. His eyes swiftly rose up to meet hers. "What are you-"

"Don't!" she whispered, staring into his eyes. "You- you can't sacrifice yourself for us-"

Her argument sounded weak and pointless as she said it, and she felt her words disintegrating as he silently gazed at her. She didn't know what else to say, save for what she truly felt, and she would have rather died right then and there than admit what feelings she had towards him- or thought she had, at least.

He gave her a knowing, almost gentle glance, and whispered, "I know. And I'm sorry, Iris." She felt his fingers close briefly around hers as he held her hand for one brief moment, and then he was gone, his cloak fluttering in the nearly-nonexistent light.

"No." she whispered softly, as his warm fingers left hers for what she knew in her heart would be the last time.

He had almost reached her, his figure nearly visible through the crowd.

What occurred next happened in the span of about sixty seconds.

As pure instinct kicked into her and she felt adrenaline replacing blood in her veins, she drew her Kage and muscled her way through the crowd, her emerald hair flowing behind her as she pushed the priest to the ground and emerged in the center of the large circle that the crowd had become.

"You'll never take him!" she roared, courage (or could it have been insanity?) lending volume to her voice until it sounded like a megaphone. "What in the bloody hell could you want with him?! He's only a child!"

There were gasps and mutterings about the crowd, but she honestly didn't care at this point, as Ascion's cheeks blushed a dark (and somewhat cute, she realized) shade of fuchsia upon the ground. Her staff, threateningly glowing with sparks, was pointed straight as Grace's face.

Grace merely looked up and stared down the furious mage, her hair flowing down her back as the gigantic spear rested in her right hand._ "I see no need to disclose information regarding my master's plans with you, Gaiden."_

Iris felt her blood freeze in her veins. "How…do you know my name?" she ventured hesitantly.

_"I know a lot of things that you'll never understand, foolish girl." _Grace snapped, folding her arms across her chest in the most patronizing manner she could. _"Now, stand aside and give up Blade, lest you all perish."_

Indignation burst inside the mage's chest as fury flowed through her veins. "If you want him, you'll have to go through me first!"

Ascion paled upon the ground as Grace merely smiled, a thin crescent in the night. "Your proposal is acceptable, girl."

There was a burst of light as someone shouted, "Thunder Spear!", then a massive explosion as the spell hit its target. Ascion felt like screaming as a brilliant flash obscured his vision for a moment- then he realized Iris was still standing. She had cast the first spell.

Grace skidded backwards and glared at Iris, her silver eyes visible through the night as her lance shined through the darkness._ "That was your last mistake, Gaiden!" _she snarled as lightning arced from the tip of her weapon. _"Thunder Lance!"_

There was a second brilliant flash of lightning as Grace thrust the gigantic spear upwards, creating a gigantic bolt of electricity that hurtled towards Iris with inhuman speed. She managed to raise her staff and command, "Magic Guard!"- barely blocking the attack. Recovering quickly, she slashed the air with her Kage as the air froze in front of her. "Frigid Grave!"

Large spires of ice erupted from the ground beneath Grace as the arte took effect, pulses of icy magic diffusing through the forest floor. Undaunted, the blonde-haired mage easily dodged all the spikes as though there were wings on her feet, her lance crushing through the spikes like fragile glass. She spun on her feet and roared, _"Dragon Buster!"_

The Dragon Knight technique created a sonic boom as it exploded through the air, the resulting burst of wind forcing Iris to block with Magic Guard once more. She skidded wildly across the ground, throwing a cloud of dust and dirt into the air as she panted from mana exhaustion. The last time she had seen Grace on the grounds of Elaesia, she had never known her to be this…powerful.

She took a quick glance at the crowd, but she could not see Ascion's face- had he escaped? Staggering to her feet, she saw to no relief that Grace had folded her arms across her chest in a laissez-faire position, taking little notice of the mage in front of her.

_"Well, this is a very nice development."_ Grace's voice carried like a megaphone across the stunned crowd. _"Hiding behind a scarlet girl to do your fighting for you…Tell me, Blade, who are you going to use as a shield once I kill her?"_

She gave a cruel, cold laugh, as she twirled her spear behind her head, glowing with ice-blue energy. _"You are becoming quite troublesome, by the way."_ she added, turning to the seething ice/lightning mage. "It's time I finished you off once and for all." Her smile widened briefly before she raised her lance. _"Excelsis Blizzard!"  
_  
Iris' eyes widened as she barely had time to recognize Grace's spell- the most dangerous ice arte known to mages after Absolute and Lancreaver- before a burst of icy-blue light exploded from the tip of her lance, speeding at her with the force of a missile and freezing the ground as it rushed past. It struck her chest head-on, throwing her into the air and slamming her head-first into a tree, as she slid limply to the ground. Blood oozed down her face from a gash in her head.

Grace made her way through the crowd, ranks of terrified mages, thieves, and bowmen moving aside as she shot her prey a hawk-like glare. Iris lay prone on the ground, staring blankly at Grace as crimson continued to sheet down her cheeks. Her vibrant green hair was now matted with streams of red, making her head look something like a morbid Christmas decoration.

Grace sniffed disdainfully as she leveled her spear at the dying mage's head. "Still alive." she murmured, the tip of her lance crackling with lightning. _"It matters not. You shall join him soon in the halls of purgatory."_ She hefted the spear as it began to glow cobalt-blue, preparing to fling it through the defenseless mage's heart. _"Die!"_

_ "No!"_ a voice suddenly bellowed, as the area was illuminated by a gigantic flash of light. _"INVINCIBLE!"_

There was a massive explosion as the lightning-tipped javelin exploded forcefully against an invisible barrier, sparks flying everywhere as several people in the crowd shielded her eyes. Grace watched emotionlessly as the light cleared to reveal Ascion kneeling over Iris' motionless figure.

"Get up. Please, get up." he whispered softly, touching her cheek, and for once, she obeyed, pulling herself up using his hand as support. She blinked and saw him closer to her than he'd ever been in her life, his face just inches away from hers.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, echoing his words from just minutes ago. "I'm sorry it had to be like this-"

He ignored her words and pressed his fingertips to her scalp, muttering, "Heal." There was a soft glow of emerald light as her wound sealed itself up, leaving her skin as flawless as it had been.

"Ascion…" She felt like there was a black hole in her gut- of all the times and places she had to reveal her feelings, why did it have to be now, when he was about to- to…

Without saying another word, his face as emotionless as Grace's above him, Ascion hugged Iris, his arms wrapping tenderly around her body as his head rested at the base of her shoulders. She felt heat creeping up her from her toes to her head as his small, warm body pressed against her, his face turned towards the ground as he embraced her. Even from her current position, she could see the slightly revolted expressions of the people in the crowd, but for once in her life, she truly didn't care.

He broke away from her rather too quickly for her to enjoy the moment, however, his expression looking more business-like than amorous. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was silenced by his deathly expression.

"Don't move." he commanded her, before turning his back on her and facing Grace, his expression a visage of blinding fury. A few people stepped back as they saw the Brigadier General's face light up with anger they had never seen before, not even in his worst moments. A kind of suppressed fury radiated off of him as though he were giving off heat.

"You." he snarled, raising his Magicodar and pointing it directly at his adversary. "I never thought I'd see you again, Grace."

"And I you, Blade." she replied. Her voice had lost its demonic, amplified edge, and now sounded human- as though she were alive once more. "I must admit that it is certainly quite a surprise to see you here." She tossed a handful of her spectral hair behind her back. "I thought you would let her die for sure."

"Countless people have died already." Ascion snapped, not taking his eyes off Grace. "I won't allow another to die in my stead."

"Admirable sentiments indeed." Grace replied coolly, staring upwards into the night sky. The sunset had faded, leaving starlight in its wake. "If that is what you desire, then so be it."

She waved her spear-like staff, and Ascion felt something like a gust of wind ripple across his cheek as Grace's arte took effect. Glancing around him, he could see that she had surrounded them in a miniature force field, effectively shutting out all other contact. It would be just them in a fight to the very end.

It was hard to believe that the crafty, beautiful girl that had sent him a birthday present and briefly been his older brother's love interest was standing here in front of him, bent on delivering him to "Lord Isentryx"- in other words, he suddenly realized, Gault.

"Of course." he muttered silently to himself. "Everything Rathias Gardner said was true. It must have been soul transmutation."

Grace merely looked amused. "You catch on fast, Blade." Slowly, she hefted her spear to her shoulders, its edge bursting with demonic lightning. "Now, if you value the life of your friends and the welfare of Ellinia at all, you will surrender yourself to me."

"I defeated you once before at Elaesia." Ascion steadfastly replied, refusing to be intimidated. "I won't hesitate to do it again."

Grace's smile did not fade as she stared at the priest before her. "You are a bit too overconfident for yourself, Blade. Do you think that just because you are the son of the great Rafael Wolfen that that automatically allows you to win every magic duel you fight?" She tossed her head back, her blonde hair glinting in the starlight. "You cannot imagine the power that I have been endowed with since I last saw you. Thanks to Lord Isentryx, I now know artes that could potentially destroy the world several times over. And you still wish to stand against me."

"Shut the bloody hell up and fight if you've got the guts!" Ascion roared, his wand shaking in his hand as he abandoned what little self-control he had left. "Prism Lancer!"

There was a bright flash as the great spear of light materialized in his hand, and then the duel began.

* * *

_"What?!"  
_  
Ark Rafael Wolfen stared, dumbfounded, at the leader of Henesys-Elaesia as she calmly sat at her desk, acting as though a furious crusader with a vein bulging in his temple was not in the room. 

With absolute patience, Athena Pierce calmly shuffled the papers on her desk and gazed up at the wild-haired axeman with her almond eyes. "I have told you that Brigadier General Ascion Blade, along with High Captains Iris Gaiden and Joseph Stalrigarde, were sent to Ellinia at seven o'clock this morning to retrieve a gravity arte from the Ellinian Research Institute."

"No- not that." Ark put a hand to his sweaty forehead. "I've been walking for at least twelve hours and I haven't eaten since then, nearly got myself killed with a couple of Tauros ambushes, and you're telling me that my brother happens to be in the same place as a wide-scale invasion involving untold thousands of demons-"

A flash of anger betraying her resolute patience, Athena folded her hands upon her desk. "I assure you that your brother is not in any danger, Wolfen. He is an extremely skilled and powerful magician that shares a bloodline with your father, one of the greatest priests that Bera has ever known. I have sent Epsilon Regiment of Alpha Division led by the more-than-competent Col. Luke Sinclaire to deal with the threat, and if we report any deaths I am more than sure your brother's name will not be on the list."

"…" Ark silently growled something inaudible under his breath, which was fortunate for him, because if Athena had heard him he would have found himself in a very uncomfortable position. Choosing to ignore the crusader's current state of mind, Athena raised her gaze upwards. "Be that as it may, I must thank you as well as Ryden and Aslan for bringing several hundred reinforcements from Galiaen." Her voice wavered for the briefest of seconds as she spoke the name of her former home.

Seeing that he was not going to get any closer to Ascion staying in Athena's dreary office, Ark straightened himself up to his full height. "Thank you, Athena." With a resolute air, he strode out of the room and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Well, how'd it go?" Ryden asked briskly.

Ark settled for answering with a violent gesture of his hands. "We have to go to Ellinia."

"I hate to admit it, Wolfen, but I think a meal might actually be a good idea at this point," Marron replied, sliding a hand into his pocket, "because in case you haven't noticed, none of us have eaten anything for the past twelve hours-"

"I wasn't inviting you to go along, Dariel, but he is my brother." Ark snarled, putting dangerous emphasis on the last two syllables.

"It doesn't matter." Marron stretched his arms above his head and gave a yawn, which he tried to pass off as a casual look. "I've been walking twelve hours; I can walk another."

"Good. Then I assume you're coming." Ark muttered, his bloodshot eyes roving sharply across Ryden, Marron, and Lisande before he stomped out into the hallway, his axe jangling across his back.

"All right, then let's go." Ryden murmured in kind, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword and preparing to leave, but he found himself blocked by the edge of the Paladin's sword. "Dariel, what-"

"You don't have to go." Marron muttered, resheathing his Heaven's Gate. "Lady Lisande needs to conduct reconnaissance with Athena regarding the troops, and someone needs to watch over her. Besides, I promised Wolfen I'd do him a favor."

"It's no trouble, Seles; I can go." Lisande spoke up.

The Paladin's left eyebrow twitched for a moment before he spoke, somewhat grudgingly. "I can't have you two risking your lives, as if we don't have enough people in Ellinia-"

"We're going." Ryden said flatly, ending the conversation as he strode after Ark, Lisande following shortly after.

Marron blinked, staring at the empty space where the two sword-users had been for a fraction of a moment before collecting himself and haughtily striding after them, ignoring the astonished looks he got from passersby in the hall.

* * *

The end came much faster than he thought. 

He saw so many things at once; Iris, still lying on the ground as she stared at him; Joe and Schuyler, standing among the crowd as they stared at him in trepidation, their faces pale; and above all, Grace, rushing at him with the edge of her spear ready to tear him apart.

He lashed forward and managed to parry her blow, a shower of sparks exploding into the air as the two arcane weapons made contact. Undaunted, she followed up with a second slash in midair, aiming to cut him apart. He blocked her blows one after the other, the wind quickly being knocked out of him as he struggled to keep up with her movements.

This was so different from the time they had fought upon the plains of Elaesia. For one thing, Ark, as well as everybody else, had been with him.

This time, he was alone.

The fact echoed briefly in his mind as he ducked a slash from Grace, sparks flying over his head and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. As he dueled, missing death by inches at a time while raising his lance to block one strike after the other, he reflected on the fact that he'd never be able to get a good hit on her at this rate. He was having enough trouble trying to cope with her melee assault as it was.

"Teleport!" he muttered under his breath, a flash of blue light enveloping him and depositing him several yards behind her. In an instant, she whirled around to aim a slash at him, but he was too fast for her. Raising his hand, he roared, "Incandesca!"

A holy rune appeared on his palm as a sudden burst of white flame erupted from his fingers, heading straight at Grace. Her eyes widened briefly for a second before she twirled on her feet and swung the spear ahead of her to block the incoming flames.

Although he didn't expeect much to happen, he was shocked when the flame dissipated just inches from her face, repulsed by a single swing of her wrist. He could only gape in amazement- how could she have have blocked such a powerful spell with a simple guard?

"Sacramental flame." she whispered, and Ascion could feel goosebumps crawling up his arm as she said the words, almost as if she were mocking him. "A technique used by only the greatest wizards known to time, able to bring down the greatest demons in a matter of seconds."

Her eyes flashed with lightning as she leveled the spear at his head. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Blade?" She bolted forward and lashed out at him with the great javelin. "Impaling Heaven!"

A gigantic burst of light obscured Ascion's eyes as he felt himself being thrown into the air by a great force, crashing into a tree with a thud. He attempted to get up, but Grace swung her spear and commanded, "Absolute!" He felt icy steam shoot across his face as the ground opened, and the next thing he knew, a gigantic explosion of ice crystals had caught him dead in the center of the arte's area of effect. He rolled across the ground limply, gashes and blood streaking his body.

Silently, Grace strode over to him, eyeing her prey as she raised the lance.

"Pathetic." she whispered, her voice unheard by all but him. "Truly pathetic…I would have expected more from Zeraion Phoenix's younger brother."

Rage boiled in Ascion's veins as he staggered to his feet. "Don't talk about my brother!" he bellowed, his wand clutched in his shaking knuckles. "He was in love with you, and you betrayed him! How could you do this to him- to us?!"

Grace's eyes seemed to flicker for a second, showing the faintest bit of what looked like remorse in her sky-gray pupils before she said, "Times have changed, Ascion. You're no longer the child you were several years ago, and your brother isn't either."

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but he swore he could see what looked like a bead of light make its way down her left cheek before she spoke.

"When you see your brother again, tell him I'm sorry." she whispered, before she holstered the spear and aimed it towards his heart.

Suddenly, there was a loud cry of _"Ascion!!"_ that seemed to shake the trees, and Ascion managed to summon the strength to lift his head upwards.

Unbelievably, through the crowd of people that surrounded him and Grace, he could see someone frantically pounding on the invisible barrier she had cast; someone wearing plates of blackened blue, with a great axe slung across his back…

"Ark?" Ascion whispered softly, in disbelief.

That was all he could say before the spear thrust itself forward with a cry of "Thunder Lance!"

Then there was a brilliant explosion as light swallowed his vision, a moment of searing, absolute pain, and then he was gone.

* * *

_"Ascion!!"_ Ark Wolfen roared, pounding the invisible barrier that separated him from his younger brother as hard as he could, ignoring the rivulets of blood that seeped from under his gauntlets. "Ascion, can you hear me?! Say something!" 

Ascion gave no sign that he had heard, his eyes glazed over as he continued to stare up at Grace, his life in her hands.

"Ascion! Damn it!" Ark swore furiously, as he unsheathed his axe and swung it with as much force as he could against Grace's shield. "Sovereign Gale!" Bursts of wind pressure flew off the crusader's axe as the edge of the gigantic weapon made contact with the barrier, but it was to no avail. He felt an immense shock run through his body, as though he'd run headfirst into a brick wall, the recoil causing him to drop his axe.

"Ascion!" he yelled furiously, desperation beginning to distort his features as he clawed madly at the shield. "Do something!"

Quickly, Ryden, Marron, and Lisande unsheathed their blades and aimed slashes at the magical ward, but they enjoyed no more success than Ark had moments ago, the shield continuing to hold fast.

He saw Grace open her mouth and begin to speak, but he could not hear a word she was saying. Frantically, he pressed his ear against the invisible barrier, and he could hear the faintest of sounds as she spoke.

_"…see your brother again, tell him I'm sorry."_

Then, she plunged the spear downwards into Ascion's chest.

_**"NO!"**_ Ark found himself screaming, as the point of the gigantic blade ripped through his brother's body, a great cloud of crimson suddenly decorating the ground. Behind him, Lisande shrieked and threw her hands over her mouth, Ryden's jaw fell open, and Marron swore under his breath, clenching the hilt of his sword in his hand.

He saw Ascion's body twitch for the faintest of seconds as electricity pulsed through his body, and then all of a sudden, there was a gigantic explosion as the barrier finally broke, throwing Ark backwards at full force as he crashed into Marron behind him.

Ignoring the pain that was shooting through his body, Ark staggered to his feet off the Paladin and half-staggered, half-ran to the smoking crater that had been where Ascion had been moments ago. Almost maniacally, he sifted his fingers through the burnt ground, the acrid, metallic smell of scorched blood in the air. Several shreds of bloodstained fabric remained in his hands as he brought them up; the remnants of Ascion's cape.

In despair, Ark slammed his palms into the ground and began to sob, crying for the first time in what seemed like years as he clutched the remains of his brother between his fingers. The pendant around his neck fell open, the picture of the three childhood siblings fluttering towards the scorched ground.

_Promise me you won't die, Ark…_

_"Ascion!"_ Ark cried, as the burnt remains of the priest's cape fell to the ground, great sobs wracking his body. Tears flowed down his cheeks, instantly absorbed by the thirsty ground as his palms shook upon the blackened forest floor.

_I promised Dad I would take care of him...and now he's gone, just like Mom...and it's all my fault...!_

-----

_"Rafael!" the woman cried, as a burst of nerve-wracking pain exploded through her body._

_"Avelyn!" the dark-haired man gasped back, tenderly clutching his love's hand in his own. "You'll be all right_, _I promise!"_

_The child merely tottered on the stool that had been set in front of his mother's bed, his unsteady four year-old legs trying to keep their balance as he strained to keep his balance. Dark hair hung from his head that almost grazed his shoulders- his parents had rarely bothered to give him a haircut since his birth. Next to him, his two year-old brother sat on the bedsheets, curling up to his mother's right leg as though it were all the treasure in the world._

_"Rafael!" the woman repeated, tears flowing down her cheeks as she fiercely grabbed her husband's hand. "It...it hurts so much!"_

_"Don't talk like that." The man's voice was almost pleading. "You have to be strong, Avelyn. You're a warrior, the best of the best. You have to survive. For Ark...for Zeraion...and for our third son."_

_"I...I don't know if I can...!" she howled, fresh tears running down her cheeks. "Find...a doctor, please...!"_

_The priest shook his head as an overwhelming guilt rested in his heart. He loved his wife so much, and he couldn't bear to see her in so much pain. As a swordswoman, a crusader, she had always been so strong, able to take the blows for both of them when they had been young. Now she was suffering, and he was helpless to prevent it. All he could do was hold her and keep telling her it would be all right._

_"I can't leave you." he whispered, clutching her hand tenderly. "The pain reliever arte I've cast over you can only hold for so long, and if anything were to happen to you, I would never be able to live with myself."_

_Her only reply was a fresh cry of pain as her contractions rocked through her. It felt as though the very gods were against her as something akin to a lightning bolt exploded through her with every passing minute. Her child was still buried in her womb, the large bulge apparent through the bedsheets._

_"Mommy's hurt!" the older child cried, as he crawled onto the bed and cuddled up next to his mother and younger brother. "Do something, Daddy! Anything!"_

_Rafael's voice carried a measure of desperation. "I'm...I'm doing all I can, Ark." he replied quietly. The truth of it shamed him; the fact that he could do nothing while his beloved Avelyn suffered tortured him to no end._

_"It's coming!" she screamed, her voice loud enough to wake the entire village of Henesys, and Rafael immediately dropped his wife's hand and ran to the foot of her bed. "Push!" he commanded, breathing almost as hard as she as he worked furiously to help her deliver the baby. He was no obstetrician, but he would gladly have done anything to ensure the safety of his wife and unborn child.  
_

_"Mommy, I love you." The two young children cuddled closer to their mother's heaving chest, and Avelyn's face visibly relaxed even as the most severe of contractions rocked through her body, her newborn son gradually working his way out of her. Rafael gave a cry of triumph as the child's body began to make headway, its smooth head entering the air._

_The weak sound of crying began to make its way through the air as Rafael finally stood up, his face and robes splattered with blood. He carried a crimson-stained bundle in his arms, which he gingerly handed to his wife. She cooed as the baby entered her grasp, and it stopped crying._

_"He's...beautiful." she whispered weakly, her strength gone as she cradled her newborn son in her arms for what she knew would be the first and last time. "He looks just like you, Rafael. Look," she said, turning to her two sons, holding the bundle closer to them. "Ark, Zeraion, meet your new baby brother. His name is...Ascion. Please, take good care of him." _

_As Ark reached out to touch his newest sibling, he felt Avelyn's body suddenly relax and stiffen as her beautiful blue eyes closed, and he suddenly knew, deep down in his heart, he would never see his mother again. _

-----

Tears continued to flow down Ark's cheeks as he clutched the few remnants of what remained of his baby brother, perfect to the very end. Nothing mattered except the few bloodstained fragments of what had once been Ascion Blade- of what had once been the younger sibling he had taken care of and cherished so deeply.

_Mother...I'm so sorry... _

_**"…Ascion…!!"**_

-----

He opened his eyes.

The sky was serene and blue, light streaming down from the heavens as a few fluffy clouds fluttered above his head. The air had a clean, fresh scent to it as he breathed, and he could see that flower gardens were planted around him, as petals and butterflies danced through the air. Fairies seemed to be calling through the distance, their light voices echoing in his ears.

He was in Orbis.

The pain, he noticed, was completely gone. In fact, he didn't feel even the slightest bit of discomfort as he pulled himself to his feet and examined himself. He seemed to be dressed in robes, although unlike the ones he'd been wearing in Ellinia, they were a shade of gentle ivory, much like Iris' jacket.

There was a brief tinge of pain as he thought of her, still trapped upon the plains of Ellinia. He had to get to her- he could take the airship and be there within minutes-

Or at least, that's what he would have done if he hadn't seen that the airship station had vanished. In fact, as he looked around, he saw the one thing unique about his location; there were no buildings whatsoever. The stone paths and gardens of Orbis were still here, but the houses had completely vanished, as if he were in a ghost town.

He definitely wasn't in Bera anymore, that was for sure.

A slight bit of discomfort (he was too indignant to use the word 'fright') made its way into his veins as he looked around, trying to find something that could possibly help him out of his current situation. He tried calling to the fairies that fluttered about him, but he suddenly realized with a jolt that even though he opened his mouth, no words or sound came out. It was as though he had been struck dumb.

Knowing that he wasn't in Orbis, he tried waving his wand and casting a spell, but although he wordlessly said the incantation, nothing happened. Well, it wasn't as if he had expected anything to happen in this place anyway. He no longer struggled; he could only stand back and accept this place for what it was.

Then, all of a sudden, he saw a single figure moving towards him from the distance, its outline shadowed as it slowly drifted towards him.

He tried to move his arms and legs, but couldn't- he found that he was frozen to the spot, as though someone had cast an immobilization spell over him. He watched the figure as it came closer; as it neared him, he could see that it was apparently female, with sleek, long, waist-length hair.

Chocolate-colored hair.

He silently opened his mouth, but no words came out; however, he couldn't possibly have said anything even if he had been able to. He could only watch as the woman drifted closer to him, with hair the same color as his. She was wearing an elegant silver-colored cuirass, with ruby rose-shaped earrings dangling from her ears. A thin sword of black crystal hung in a sheath at her belt, its ornate hilt poking from her waist. Metallic gauntlets of black and gold adorned her knuckles, as a matching pair of greaves covered her heels. A white-colored cape swished at her ankles as she reached the stunned priest, still frozen to the ground with his mouth open.

Avelyn Blade smiled and reached out her hand, tenderly caressing her youngest son's cheek with her fingers. As her hands touched his skin, he could feel a warmth blossoming over his body, and he realized that the wounds Grace had left were quickly healing at her touch. Ascion gazed into his mother's beautiful, pearly eyes for the first time and saw that they were wet.

"You've been so brave, Ascion." she tearfully whispered, teardrops of bittersweet joy streaming from her eyes as she took him in her embrace, her hair tickling his shoulders as mother and son were finally together for the first time in sixteen years. He wanted to open his mouth and tell her how sorry he was, how sorry that she had lost her life giving birth to him, but the words wouldn't come.

Behind Avelyn's shoulders, he could see the figure of another person, slightly taller this time, as it made its way towards them. As the distance between them shortened, he could see jet-black hair hanging from the man's head and barely grazing his shoulders, his hair extremely disheveled upon his head as he walked. He wore robes of gold-streaked blue, the convoluted handle of a wand poking from his belt. Like his wife, he too wore a cape, its color a deep night-black. Its hem grazed the ground as he walked, coming to a stop just a couple of feet from his wife and son.

"We're very proud of you." Rafael Wolfen smiled faintly as he gently laid his hand on his son's shoulder, his strong, yet gentle fingers imparting a fatherly love that Ascion hadn't felt for nearly a decade.

The teenager blinked tears from his eyes as he stared at his parents, finally back with them after all these years. There was no pain anymore, and as he felt his mother's arms and his father's touch, a single thought echoed in his mind for the last time.

_Ark...Zeraion...I'll be waiting for you. Forever._

Ascion Blade, the youngest son of Rafael Wolfen and Avelyn Blade, smiled and closed his eyes.


	22. A Mother's Love

**Chapter 19**

Author's Not-Five-Page-Long-Note: Well, a warm welcome to you all. Sorry for the delay (as usual), but if you know me, you know that these chapters aren't easy to write. Anyways, I would have liked to waste everyone's time by typing up some more of the witty and sarcastic review replies that Kal Ancalas Productions is famed/hated for, but I know everyone's threatening to eat my spleen if I post another five-page author's note.

Oh, and for those of you complaining that Ascion had way too many fancy, non-canon attacks: I killed the little bastard. Hope you're all happy.

Anyway, I should probably apologize for the great delay in updates (nearly a month). Trust me, I intended to update as soon as the story reached 315 reviews (which was quite a while ago) but unfortunately, I got into a huge argument with my parents some time ago. It was the biggest fight we've ever had on record. I won't go into details, but I will say that it was the first time in about five years that I actually cried. I wish I could say that I was making all this up because I'm a lazy bastard and I didn't feel like updating, but as they say, truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.

Naturally, this didn't bode well for my computer/writing time.

However, because I know no one cares about how much shit I've had to endure over the past week, I'll condense today's author's note into two short tidbits of news, one good, one bad. The good news is that this story recently gained the honor of being on 50 (53, actually, but I don't like to brag) authors' favorites lists.

The bad news: I didn't get 50(3) reviews for this chapter.

While I'll keep my bitching to a minimum this time and refrain from going into a huge rant like previous times, I'll simply say that when you have a crapload of summer assignments and overbearing parents, reviews (and preferably not the long, bitchy ones complaining about my word choice or non-canon tendencies) are much appreciated.

Thank you very much, and have fun reading this chapter. Oh, and don't forget to r-…

…well, you know.

-Kal

_(P.S: If you haven't read the reuploaded ending of the previous chapter yet, I suggest you do so. It provides an interesting insight into the events surrounding Ascion's birth.)_

_(P.P.S: I updated my profile. Feel free to check it out sometime.)_

* * *

Not even the faintest noise could be heard as a deathly silence swept the blackened grounds. No one could believe the magnitude of the event that had just transpired in front of them; Brigadier General Ascion Blade had been reduced to ashes in a matter of a minute. 

Gault Isentryx's angel of death remained apathetic as she turned her back on the still-sobbing Ark and vanished her blood-soaked lance with a motion of her arm. _"My work here is done." _she proclaimed, as she began to walk out of the clearing, her hair and robes drifting behind her. The terrified mages, thieves, and bowmen about her dared not make a sound.

A sudden roar equal to that of a wounded dragon suddenly erupted across the landscape, and the mage had a minute's warning before the edge of a gigantic metal axe flung itself at her, with unbelievable speed and power. Instinctively, the lance materialized once more in her hand as she narrowly blocked the blow. There was a brilliant explosion of white lightning as the weapons crashed against each other.

Grace Raizen turned towards her assailant to see Ark Rafael Wolfen, the gigantic blade of his golden axe just inches away from her head as she locked stances with him. Anguish and fury had distorted his expression to the point where he looked like a demon, his face pale as several veins bulged in his temples.

Despite the weight of the furious crusader pressing down upon her, Grace remained as calm as ever. She eyed Ark slowly, decisively, almost as if he were some kind of precious trinket. Then, with inhuman strength, she wrenched the blade of his axe to the ground with a motion of her wrist. There was a loud crack as a shadow of pain flitted across the axeman's face.

"How…_could you?!" _Ark snarled, his voice shaking with unsuppressed fury. _"How could you do that to my brother, you goddamned **bitch?!"**_

Grace's expression still didn't change, her eyes reflecting as much emotion as a statue. _"I had no choice, Wolfen." _she replied blandly, her voice as simple as if she were having a mundane conversation. _"He refused to surrender himself, and as such, I did what had to be done."_

"_**Damn you!" **_Ark howled, all except the most vicious swearwords deserting him in his anger. _"_I'll _never _let you live for this!" The head of his axe glowed with emerald energy as he wrenched it through the air, aiming straight for Grace's neck. _"Sovereign Gale!"_

Without even batting an eye, Grace spun the lance as though it were a baton between her fingers, the bloodstained edge neatly coming up to block the warrior's blow. Bursts of wind pressure exploded from the contact point, sending ashes and dirt flying everywhere and creating a miniature dust storm. However, when the air cleared, Grace remained standing, unscathed.

"_Foolish." _she whispered, her voice slithering through his ears. _"You'll never defeat me, Wolfen. Your brother- the son of the greatest priest alive- died at my hands in less than sixty seconds. What do you hope to accomplish just by swinging that unwieldy axe of yours?"_

"_I'll send you to hell, where you belong!" _Ark bellowed, as he recovered from the impact and charged on his heels, his axe raised. A series of cacophonic explosions rocked the atmosphere as the axe, charged with deadly air pressure, made contact with Grace over and over again. Despite Ark's best efforts, Grace remained unfazed, her javelin dancing through the air as each of his blows glanced off her like water.

Watching from the side, Ryden, Marron, and Lisande instinctively put their hands to the hilts of their swords, but just as they were about to draw, a vicious roar from Ark derailed their trains of thought.

"Stay _**back!**_" Ark howled maniacally to the crowd, flames of fury blazing in his eyes as he struggled to break Grace's arcane guard. "She's mine! _**Mine! **_I'll _kill _her!"

Looking as though he would have liked to do otherwise anyway, the Paladin's fingers reluctantly dropped from the handle of his sword, Ryden's and Lisande's following shortly after. The battle raged on as Ark continued to charge with renewed fury at his brother's killer- to no avail. Grace either nimbly sidestepped or forcibly blocked each of his blows, not a single scratch on her divine, flawless figure.

"_It is futile." _Grace whispered, as Ark's axe clashed with the blade of her blackened spear for what seemed like the hundredth time. _"You'll never kill me, Wolfen. Only two people in this world can, and you are neither of them."_

The thought of who the "two people" were stunned Ark into silence for the tiniest fraction of a second before he charged again with unfaltering rage, his strike blocked once more. Refusing to give up, he forced the metal blade of his axe against the shimmering crystal of Grace's spear, trying with all his might to overcome her.

"Just…_die!" _Ark snarled as sweat ran down his face in torrents, his eyes slits of fury as the blade of his weapon hovered inches from Grace's head.

For a fleeting fraction of a second, a trace of emotion showed in the mage's eyes, as she whispered, _"I can't."_

"Then kill me." Ark snarled, refusing to give ground as his fingers clenched ever tighter around the handle of his weapon. "Kill me just like you killed him, you-_!"_

His breath stopped as he searched for a word terrible enough to convey his emotions, and finding none, lashed out with a sudden burst of strength, finally managing to force the blade of Grace's spear back a few precious inches.

That was a mistake, however, for in the next second, Grace struck out with her own weapon, breaking their deadlock and lunging forward in a deadly uppercut slash, the blade of her spear ripping his cuirass like tissue paper as blood suddenly decorated a large arc of forest floor. People gasped as they saw Ark fall backwards, so swift was the mage's slash that it was barely visible. Without pausing for breath, Grace thrust her palm forward and commanded, "_Dispersal!"_

The crusader's body gave a violent lurch as it was thrown into the air by some unseen force, crashing head-on into Ryden, Marron, and Lisande. Pushing the heavy warrior off of themselves, the three swordsmen could see a large, curved slash wound the shape of a parabola decorating the front of Ark's chest. His breathing was shallow and his face pale, but he immediately staggered to his feet and charged once more, blood streaming from his rent armor as he ran forward.

He charged forward, determined to either kill or be killed, and the noise of metal crashing against metal rung through his ears as the edge of the two weapons collided furiously with each other, sending bolts of lightning hurtling through the air from impact. He saw Grace's pupils narrow in fury for a split second, saw her raise her wrist for a moment, and thought, _I'm going to die._

Strangely, in the millisecond that passed during the time he saw her prepare to strike, he didn't feel any pain or regret; just a overwhelming sensation of peace, flowing through his veins and spreading from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes. There was a moment of remorse as he thought of Zeraion, still hundreds of miles away, but that was diminished when he thought of Ascion, so frail, helpless, and young in those moments before death, and a sense of clarity washed over him.

After all, he was only leaving one brother for another.

_"Air Trick!"_

"_Rush!"_

_"Thrust!"_

Three voices cried out simultaneously as Grace suddenly froze, her pupils wide as the blade of the spear stopped inches short of Ark's head. Behind her, Ryden, Marron, and Lisande had their blades unsheathed and running through her, the points of the swords sticking from her chest. A silvery substance resembling blood seeped from the glowing wounds in her figure as her mouth opened a fraction of an inch, as though she were about to say something.

Her eyes flashed with anger as she staggered forward and aimed a slash at her three attackers, causing them to retreat as the attack missed them. Grace stared round at the four warriors surrounding her before her wounds suddenly closed, the stab perforations in her body sealing themselves and leaving her figure as flawless as it had been seconds ago.

Ryden, Marron, and Lisande tensed themselves for retaliation, but to their surprise it did not come. Grace merely raised a hand and commanded, "_Bastion." _A gust of wind suddenly blew across the landscape as an emerald-colored sheen of light seemed to rise above Grace and Ark, separating them from outside interference. Grace opened her mouth, speaking to Ark inside the barrier, but none of the swordsmen could hear what was being said. Frantically, they aimed slashes at the barrier once more, but for all the good it did, they might as well have been cutting thin air.

Meanwhile, inside the makeshift stronghold that Grace had created, Ark could only stare in bewildered amazement at the three swordsmen who had just saved his life. Why on earth hadn't they listened and just left him to die?

His thoughts were interrupted by Grace, who strode forward and began to speak. Ark covered his hands with his ears to block out the sound, but it was of little use. He could hear her as clearly as if she were standing next to him with a megaphone.

"_I have no quarrel with you, Wolfen." _she whispered, her voice dangerously soft and silky. _"I was only ordered to deal with Ascion Blade, and dealt with he has been. You have nothing to do with my master, and so I shall not kill you. I can only warn you that should we meet again, you may not be so fortunate."_

"If we meet again…I promise I'll kill you." Ark snarled, through gritted teeth.

Surprisingly, Grace looked somewhat amused and even a bit relieved at his comment. "_We shall see, Wolfen." _she whispered softly, touching a single finger to his scarred cheek.

Then, in the next instant, she was gone.

_-----_

The rest of the events following the battle seemed to float through Ark's mind and slip away like the remnants of a dream. He remembered a hand being laid on his shoulder and a gentle voice saying, "Ark-"

"_Go away!" _he snapped, blindly swinging his arm forward, and there was a loud smack as flesh forcefully made contact with flesh. There was a slightly stunned silence before he heard footsteps walk away from him. He felt like opening his eyes to see who he'd hit, but once he finally got around to doing so, no one was there.

The return to Elaesia was mind-numbing. Nothing would stay in his mind as he slowly trudged on to where he knew his brother would be buried; _Ascion, Ascion, Ascion, _his brain echoed with every dull step, and it left a lingering pain that only built as he walked.

When he finally reached the starlit grounds of Elaesia, familiar faces seemed to drift in and out of his vision. He saw Ryden, his face streaked with worry as he eyed him; he saw Marron, an expression of remorse covering the Paladin's normally emotionless face; he saw Iris, her face streaked red with tears. He caught a glimpse of Rysdale Tales and Natalia Arundale, two of the Devil Children, staring at him curiously before reality suddenly seemed to swallow itself up and he was standing in Athena's office once more.

"Yes, Wolfen?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I assume you're here to make a report on what happened at Ellinia, are you?"

"R-right." He swallowed past the gigantic lump in his throat. "Ellinia. Right. Ahem. Well, it was…destroyed. Everything was all burnt and black and there were bodies everywhere. Really- really bad."

Raising an eyebrow at his fragmented speech, Athena mentally braced herself for the worst. "Were there…any casualties?" she asked, as gently as she could.

Ark nearly felt the world slide out from underneath him. "Casualties." he repeated, his mouth drier than sandpaper. "There- there was-"

He suddenly burst into tears, falling over onto Athena's desk with his head in his hands. Athena raised her eyebrows and remained respectfully silent as tears continued to drip all over her desk, staining some sheets of paperwork.

She said nothing as he continued to sob for some time, words failing him as his hair remained messily splayed across his eyes. It was a while before Dariel Marron opened the door from behind, his sword hitched across his back.

"Athena, I- oh." he murmured, seeing Ark's silhouette splayed against the desk. "I…I'll be going, then."

"Wait, Aslan." Athena said, raising a hand. "I need you to finish Wolfen's combat report. Were there any casualties?"

Delicately, the Paladin twined his fingers behind his back as he spoke. "Yes, most notably in the Ellinian mage's departments. However, Elaesian casualties were minimal, due to the…impromptu ending of the battle."

"Anyone…of importance?" Athena asked, in the same delicate tone, knowing she was treading on thin ice. "Such as a senior or commanding officer?"

Taking a look at the still-sobbing Ark, Marron drew a scrap of parchment from the elf's desk and briefly scribbled something on it with a makeshift pen of ashes. He then returned the paper to Athena with a somber expression. Her eyebrows flew upwards- probably the only time anyone had ever seen her do so- as she read it.

"I…see." she murmured softly, folding up the paper. "Thank you, Aslan."

Marron gave only a quick mumble in reply before leaving the office, looking as though he had something of paramount importance to do. Athena's almond eyes followed him briefly for a moment before they returned to Ark.

"Ark…I'm sorry." she whispered, laying a hand on his head and tousling his hair in an almost motherly fashion. "I…I know you must have tried your best to protect him."

"No, I _couldn't!" _Ark half-sobbed, half-snarled, still face-down on the desk. "I couldn't save him, and it's all my fault! If…if only I had gotten there earlier, he wouldn't have…!"

He lost himself in a fresh wave of bawling, and Athena forced herself to look away. To see a grown twenty year-old man crying like a child in front of her like this was simply heartbreaking.

It was some time before he finally looked up, his eyes and nose runny from crying. Athena pretended not to notice the puddle he'd left on her desk. "S-sorry." he muttered, with as much composure as he could under the circumstances.

"Your state of mind is perfectly understandable." Athena waved the episode away, trying to be as easy on him as possible. "You need to rest now, Ark. Tomorrow, I will arrange the highest honors for your brother."

Ark couldn't say anything, whether out of gratitude or shame. Finally, he muttered a blurred "Thankyouverymuch" before pushing himself out of his seat and stumbling out the door.

The elf's eyes remained pinned to him for quite some time before they returned to the desk. She couldn't possibly blame him for having acted in such a childlike manner- she felt like crying herself. Ever since Rafael Wolfen had disappeared to El Nath, leaving Ark, Zeraion, and Ascion behind, Athena felt like a surrogate mother to them all- on top of her sister's daughter and Traphes Igzarion. The loss of Ascion Blade had hit her hard as well, although she had the tact not to cry. Lives were being lost every minute this damned war was fought. What made this one any different?

Trying to ignore the horrible feeling that told her how insensitive that sounded, she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief and pulled a gold-laced sheet of parchment from her desk.

A death certificate.

However, there was a sudden knock at the door that flung aside all thoughts of procedure, and Athena hastily stuffed the paper back in her desk as the faces of Iris Gaiden, Joseph Stalrigarde, and Schuyler Kusanagi made their way in front of her. She noticed that all of them had been crying, although Iris' face looked the worst of all.

"Is there something you need?" she asked quietly, her hands folded.

It was some time before somebody- in this case, Joe- decided to break the silence. "I'm afraid we have a bit of bad news, Athena. You see, when we were carrying the gravity arte…Ascion was in possession of it at the time."

Privately, the leader of Elaesia felt a deadweight hit her stomach. This seemed a fitting ending to all that had happened- on top of Ascion's death, the gravity arte that they had struggled for so long to obtain was now lost to the abyss.

"I could, you know, rewrite it out," Schuyler piped up, in a futile attempt to sound optimistic, "but the thing was a bitch to calculate, and I'm not sure if I can recall all of the equations. It might take a couple days or weeks."

"It is of little consequence." Athena replied. "Take all the time you need in doing so."

"Thank you." Schuyler bowed and left the room, the blonde alchemist following shortly after. However, Iris hung back, as though something was on her mind. She looked as though she was going to cry any second.

"Is something wrong, Gaiden?" Athena asked, somewhat rhetorically.

"I…I don't know what to think, Athena." Iris sniffled, wiping at her eyes with a bloodstained sleeve. "It's…it's all too sudden. One moment I was talking to him, and the next-"

For a second, Iris looked like she might cry all over Athena's desk like Ark had, but she merely sniffled once more and rubbed her sleeve across her face. "It's not fair." she whimpered, her voice that of a five year-old.

Athena sighed. "I know. His death is a great loss to all of us, and events will become worse before they get better."

"I…" She bit her tongue as though there was something she wanted to say, but couldn't. "Athena, can I ask you a personal question?"

The bowmistress raised an eyebrow, but acquiesced. "Go ahead."

"Have you ever felt…" The ice-lightning mage wiped a drop of fluid from her eyes. "Have you ever felt that you were in love with someone who was young- younger than you were, and you thought he was just a child, but you knew- just knew, somehow, that he was _perfect_?"

Iris' eyes stared blankly off into space before her mind plummeted back to earth; her cheeks immediately blushed a furious cherry-red, embarrassed that she'd revealed such a private thought to her superior.

However, Athena's face showed not the least bit of disdain, but was unbelievably gentle and understanding. Quietly, she whispered, "Yes."

Iris' mouth opened in surprise before it closed. "Thank you…Athena." she said softly. "I…I know it's probably the wrong time to ask, but could I have a couple days' leave of service? I…I really don't feel well."

"Of course." The bowmistress drew a gold-laced sheet of parchment from her desk and began to scribble upon it with a resolute air. "Is there anything else you need to ask?" she asked, looking up.

"N-no, thank you." Iris found the strength to turn around and walk out of the office, gently closing the door behind her. She looked at the ornately carved doorframe before leaning her back against it, the hinges creaking in protest. She felt as though there was a tornado ripping through her head- so much had happened in the past hour that she felt her brain would explode.

"Ascion…" she whispered, her breath almost visible in the hall. The room temperature wasn't even remotely cold, but she felt as though her blood had turned to ice. She would never know how he felt about her, whether he shared her feelings.

Her thoughts flitted back to the brief hug he'd given her- the very last time they had seen each other face-to-face. True, a hug was a hug, but there was something cold about his touch- as though he weren't hugging her because he wanted to, but because he _had _to. His face had been too stone for that.

She didn't want to think about it anymore. Whether or not he had loved her was a mere footnote in the history of his short, yet brilliant, sixteen-year life.

"I…I loved- I _still_ love you, Ascion." she whispered tearfully, her voice a sliver of breath in the empty hall, as her emerald hair rested limply on her shoulders.

She knew it was far easier to admit her feelings to a dead person, but infinitely more painful.

She sat silently against the hard wood of the door, not caring if anyone saw her in her weak, fragile state. It was as though a part of her had died along with him, and her soul had been replaced with dead silence.

Absentmindedly, as if it were all she had left to do in the world, her hand crept into the left pocket of her bloodstained jacket, and she felt her fingertips brush up against something that definitely hadn't been there before.

"What the…" she murmured, drawing the mysterious object out. Upon closer inspection, she could see it was a tightly-bound scroll, slightly wrinkled but otherwise in perfect shape.

Her heart missed several beats as she realized she was holding Ascion's gravity arte in her hand.

"How did…" she whispered, unable to finish her sentence; with a jolt, she realized he must have transferred it from him to her during their hug- as if he knew he was going to die, she thought, a bittersweet feeling resting in the pit of her stomach.

In a way, she was happy, because the spell they had worked so hard for was here, but knowing Ascion had given it to her merely out of duty cheapened the feeling somehow- any other meaning she wanted his previous gesture to have had was gone.

On an impulse, she slit open the scroll and unfurled it, a foot and a half of paper trailing to her waist. She could see Schuyler's loopy handwriting scrawled all over the page, barely legible upon the surface of the paper, as countless bits of mana theory and arcane reactions floated through her mind. Once upon a happier time, she might have been able to make some sense of it, but in her current state of mind, it all seemed like a foreign language to her.

Her eyes listlessly scanned the scroll, even though she really didn't expect to find anything interesting on it, and she was about to tie it closed when she suddenly noticed something near the very end of the page, resembling a footnote or a last-minute correction.

As she raised the paper closer to her face, she could see three lines of neat script crammed into the bottom corner of the page, the impeccable handwriting contrasting against Schuyler's untidy scribbling. It appeared to have been written haphazardly with black ash, but was still perfectly legible.

She gasped as she recognized her classmate of three years' handwriting.

_**Iselian cons. 1.7834 (+/- .00005)**_

_**Cons. **_x**_ (particle conc.'s) _**x _**(r. of oxide reaction) 454.87 kn. at 93.3 p.c. efficiency**_

_**I love you, Iris. **_

The last line in particular touched her as a kind of warmth spread from her fingers throughout her body, leaving an odd tingle throughout her nerves that was sweet and sad at the same time.

He _had _really loved her after all, even though he had never gotten the chance to tell her in person- but to her, it didn't make any difference in the world.

She bound the scroll back together and slid it into her pocket, one last tear making its way down her cheek.

-----

"Phoenix."

He heard the voice before he felt a gentle, yet firm touch on his shoulder, beckoning him to awaken.

He opened his eyes and saw the silent face of Rathias Gardner, his ill-shaven face apparent in the moonlight. Night had completely fallen, the only light radiating from the moon and stars above his head. He saw that he was in a meadow, lying on a bed of soft grass and flowers.

"Where…am I?" he muttered briefly before remembering the events that had transpired with Grace some time ago. He almost called her name out loud, but stopped himself from doing so at the last minute.

"This is a location commonly known as the Meadow of Tranquility." Gardner replied, as impassive as ever with his arms folded. "As its name implies, an enchantment presides over this portion of the island that prevents dangerous monsters from entering it. It was originally set up by the Final Four of the Ancient War to provide a resting spot while they trained." He raised an eyebrow in half-hearted amusement. "I see you've gotten yourself well acquainted with it already."

Zeraion turned a shade of pink, although Gardner couldn't see it in the dim light. "Sorry." he muttered, getting to his feet as he swept daisy petals off his hauberk.

Gardner shook his head, the shadow of his long ponytail fluttering in the darkness. "No, I think you deserved a rest after that Fire Phoenix you used a while back." His gaze sharpened and Zeraion flinched as he saw Gardner's cobalt pupils cutting through the night. "Once more, your abilities have far surpassed my wildest expectations."

"Will we be working on any other techniques?" Zeraion asked, trying to be as casual as possible.

Gardner's line of sight flickered upwards before it came to rest on his student once more. "I highly doubt it, Phoenix. I can tell you from personal experience that Dragon Pulse and Hurricane are not easy techniques to master- and although you have experience in learning difficult techniques with Final Attack, I must stress that the techniques of the fourth class are not to be taken lightly." His eyes narrowed to slits. "Your first few experiences with Fire Phoenix today proved that."

"And yet Gault's mastered them all, and he's only four years older than I am." Zeraion mused, thinking back to the last time he and Gault had faced off- it seemed years ago. "How is that possible?"

Gardner's pupils seemed to dilate for a moment before he icily replied, "The realms and vectors of magic that Isentryx has breached are not advisable for one to study, Phoenix."

"Such as?" Zeraion idly asked, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers.

"I confided these thoughts to the Devil Children some time ago, but it's time you were made aware of my suspicions, however off-track they might be." Gardner exhaled before he spoke. "Gault may have studied necromancy- in other words, artes of dark magic. Whereas common arcane artes seek to displace and control energy at their base elements, dark artes play upon one's mental thoughts and emotions. These range from temporal artes, in which one's consciousness, memories, and sense of reality can be altered, to mind control, matter-to-energy destruction, and high-tier artifice. Those are not subjects you- or anyone else, for that matter- should be studying. It is the misuse of those artes that led to the formation of Razier and the beginning of the Ancient War."

"I thought so." Zeraion replied, blowing the grass away. "Athos said as much."

"Did he?" Gardner replied, somewhat amusedly. "I suppose that makes sense. Gault _was _in possession of the Abyssal Arund for a very brief period of time."

Zeraion lapsed into uneasy silence for a minute before he asked, "What time is it?"

Gardner's eyes flitted upwards. "It's approximately eleven. Why?"

"I just wanted to know." Zeraion muttered, shrugging the question away as he walked into the forest, Gardner's eyes following him.

When he finally reached the great clearing with the waterfall, his first desire was to finish sleeping- after all, tomorrow would be another strenuous day- but for some reason, he stopped a few yards away from the entrance to the hut and instead perched himself on a large rock on the side of the waterfall, spray splashing into his face.

He stared forlornly at the crashing watercourse, as though expecting Grace to pop out of it at any moment. Frankly, he didn't know why Gardner spent so much time meditating on this spot- did anyone really need to spend eight hours a day observing mana currents?

One thing could be said for his solitude, though- the water spraying into his face was relaxing more than anything, and it gave him a chance to mull over his thoughts. He really _hated _being on this stupid island more than anything- when Ark, Ascion, and the rest of them were still on Victoria- but that couldn't be helped.

"When am I going to get out of here?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waterfall.

He whispered "Thunder Spear" under his breath and heard a satisfying crack as the bladed weapon of lightning appeared in his lap. Truthfully, he didn't really need it- monsters never came this close to the waterfall- but its feel against his fingers was comforting as he twirled it between his fingers, its light reflecting off the water.

"Is everything all right, Zeraion?" a voice asked, and Zeraion nearly fell into the water before recognizing the bowmaster's voice. He spun around on the rock and found himself gazing into Rathias Gardner's eyes; uncomfortably, he forced himself to turn away.

"Everything's fine." Zeraion muttered, lying through his teeth. "I…just wanted to think over a few things." He exhaled and vanished the lance by clenching his fist.

"A meso for your thoughts, then." Gardner folded his arms across his chest. "What's on your mind?"

"I want to _kill _Gault." he whispered, his voice stained with sudden malice as he thought of Grace.

Gardner raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden vendetta, Phoenix?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Zeraion cracked his knuckles, sending a ripple of pops into the air. "He's destroyed the cities of Victoria and killed countless numbers of people. He's nothing but a madman and a curse. If it's the last thing I do, I'll see him to his grave."

Both of Gardner's eyebrows were raised this time. "That may be true, but you must not judge him too harshly."

"How can you say that?!" Zeraion snapped in response. "There isn't any justification for killing thousands of innocent people!"

"Perhaps not from your or my point of view, Zeraion." Gardner remained stoically staring at the rushing water. "But as we all know by now, Gault is…different."

"As in, he's a freaking psycho." Zeraion replied hotly.

Gardner ignored the remark. "The pursuit and price of power are dangerous indeed, Zeraion- especially for those who use forbidden artes. As a child, I seem to recall Athena telling me that he had had a bad run-in with a group of unruly adolescents patrolling the grounds of Henesys." He sighed balefully. "That, I think, fueled his desire to stand out above the warriors, magicians, and thieves- no matter the cost."

"That was just one encounter!" Zeraion snapped indignantly. "I've been bullied a few times while training, but it's not like I would suddenly go psycho and blow up whole cities or anything-" He abruptly cut himself off, realizing the morbid irony of his remark.

"I suppose it must have been the forbidden magic." Gardner replied, speaking more to himself than Zeraion now. "Dark artes are not easy to practice, and it is not a far guess to say that he became mentally unstable- or insane, even, while practicing, and I suppose that may have turned his dream of being the greatest bowman into a twisted desire to get rid of all non-bowmen." He sighed regretfully. "Necromancy has a tendency to do that."

"Only another reason to kill him." Zeraion replied coldly, running his fingers against the smooth stone of his seat.

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Gardner opened his mouth a fraction of an inch and closed it, although Zeraion did not notice the movement in the twilight.

"I need to become a Bowmaster." Zeraion muttered, his fist shaking. "It's the only way I'll ever be able to face him. Athena was right. I _will _have to kill him some day."

Gardner sighed and did not reply for some time. Finally, he said, "In any case, I would advise you not to go out of your way while training. It's good that you are motivated-" (he spoke the word with a slightly caustic air) "- but I don't need another one of my students overexerting themselves and going insane, and I trust you will not try to attempt any of the techniques in the books on the shelves- like you did last time."

Zeraion's blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. "What?" he blinked, thinking he'd misheard. "I didn't-"

"When you want to borrow someone's private property, Zeraion," Gardner replied, not missing a beat, "it is considered polite to ask first."

Zeraion felt as though somebody had dropped a large rock on his head. So Gardner _had _known about the diary. He was going to have a hard time putting anything past the bowmaster in this place.

"I…I didn't read any of the techniques." he finally said, completely truthfully. "I…just…read a couple of entries." He felt his pathetically sheepish voice gradually fade away to nothing against the bowmaster's icy stare.

Gardner scrutinized Zeraion's face for an uncomfortable minute before he finally looked away. "It is of no consequence, Phoenix. I should have known better than to keep my private thoughts within the reach of an inquisitive adolescent such as yourself."

Zeraion blanched lightly as Gardner turned away, an unreadable expression on his face that looked something like remorse.

"What happened to Aslan?" he asked, before he could stop himself. Instantly, he wished he could take the words back, but it was too late. Gardner looked up, running his hand slowly and deliberately through his hair. It was some time before he chose to speak.

"How do you know about Aslan?" he replied, in a calm, level tone. Nevertheless, Zeraion could still sense the danger in his voice.

"I…I read up to the point where he was born." Zeraion swallowed, his mouth dry. "And then you came in."

He saw Gardner's face twitch for the faintest of moments before the bowmaster sighed deeply. "Aslan is still very much alive and well, Zeraion, and he currently resides in Victoria Island as an honorable warrior, like his father. I trust you will not pursue the issue further."

Zeraion had every intent of obeying the bowmaster, but the temptation to know something- _anything _about Gardner's past was too strong. Choosing his words carefully, he asked, "The name Kain Marron sounds familiar. Is Dariel Marron related to-"

He broke off the end of his sentence, realizing the truth abruptly, and Gardner merely answered with a nod of his head. "Yes." he said, in a clear-cut tone. "Dariel Marron's true name is Aslan Castelia Seles, and he is the true son of Keiga Seles."

Zeraion's thoughts flickered back to Marron- or Seles, as the case was. He had rarely ever seen the blonde-haired swordsman in his life, and the last time they had met, Marron had been trying to kill him for a crime he hadn't committed. That had been ages ago, and Zeraion no longer knew what had become of the crusader since they had last clashed.

"How was he able to use the abilities of a White Knight?" Zeraion asked idly, an early memory of Fire Charge sliding into his mind. "It's not possible for someone to use the powers of all the subdivisions of a particular class…is it?"

Gardner rolled his tongue around in his mouth before replying. "No…" he said, slowly, "…unless that someone happens to have attained the fourth-class advancement."

Zeraion's jaw dropped. "He's a Hero?!"

"A Paladin, to be more exact." Gardner calmly examined his gloves. "He made the advancement soon after you clashed with him near Perion."

Zeraion decided not to ask how Gardner knew of the incident- instead, he decided to ask a slightly less climactic question. "Does he know?"

"Hm?" Gardner pretended not to have heard the question.

"Does Marron know that Seles- well- you know." he finished lamely.

Gardner silently turned away. "Seles was never quite the same after the birth of his son. Although he sacrificed his arm out of love for his child, I think having to give up his livelihood as a Dragon Knight for the sake of the person that had killed his beloved Arianna left a mental scar that would never really heal. He left Aslan for thirteen years, going into exile in Ossyria as he struggled to regain his life. When he finally returned years later, Aslan had completely forgotten him and refused to acknowledge him as his true father. The experience left him shattered- and slightly schizophrenic." Gardner shook his head regretfully. "Keiga Seles' troubles are many, and I set them in that book so that they would not be repeated to the world."

"He left his son for thirteen years?" Zeraion blinked in disbelief.

"From his point of view, I don't think he had a choice, Zeraion." Gardner replied, still gazing at the waterfall. "I believe Seles did not want to appear weak in front of his only son and fail to be a good role model with only one arm for his use. The shame of having a useless one-armed Dragon Knight as a father would no doubt have deeply scarred Aslan, so in his own way, he did the best he could."

"I…see." Zeraion reflected on the information for a moment before Gardner spoke again. "Zeraion, if you should ever meet Aslan- or Dariel Marron, as the case may be- ever again, please do not mention this to him. He has suffered enough."

"I won't." Zeraion promised, and silence hung between the two bowmen for a few minutes. "Gardner, may I ask you a…personal question?"

He could have sworn he saw the bowmaster wince for the faintest of moments before he replied, "What is it?"

"What…" Zeraion considered his question very carefully before posing it. "…happened to your child?"

It was the first time Zeraion had ever seen Rathias Gardner lose his composure; his face went a garish shade of white and his fists trembled at his sides. Afraid that he might have angered the bowmaster, Zeraion was about to apologize and beg for mercy, but as he opened his mouth, Gardner held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't apologize, Zeraion." he said, in a slightly harsh tone that the latter had never heard before. "You have every right to know."

Nevertheless, Zeraion did not feel like pursuing the issue further, so he merely said, "I…I didn't know you were married."

"I wasn't." Gardner said the words flatly, without remorse or emotion. "The child was born out of wedlock."

"I...never read the child's name." Zeraion said, truthfully. "What was it?"

Gardner put a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes, but Zeraion could see that he was deeply troubled, and he regretted having started the conversation at all. Time flowed painstakingly past the two as the latter remained bathed in the moonlight, lost in pensive thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bowmaster spoke. "I never had a chance to name him, Zeraion. He was taken from me by the jaws of fate as soon as he entered the world, never to gaze upon his father's face…" There was a sad trace of regret in his voice, as though Gardner were blaming himself for his son's death. "It was the punishment for a forbidden love…"

Zeraion turned his gaze to his feet and avoided catching Gardner's eyes. He chanced an upwards glance and saw to his amazement that the bowmaster was- impossibly- almost on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry." he said, breaking the awkward silence. "I should never have asked. It was none of my business."

Gardner remained silent for some time before he spoke, his voice sounding oddly maimed, as though someone had played it through a damaged recorder. "It was of no consequence, Phoenix. However, I must implore you never to ask me details about my personal life ever again. I do not want your thoughts marred with curiosities about my past, when we should be concerned about your future."

Zeraion nodded guiltily, his throat dry. "Yes, Gardner."

"It's getting late." Gardner got up from his seat and briefly stretched his arms before heading towards the hut. "You should get some sleep if you want to survive tomorrow."

Zeraion silently watched Gardner leave, a pool of dismay resting in his stomach. He never should have asked his teacher those question, he thought, as he stared at his own guilty reflection in the water. Rathias Gardner and Keiga Seles' troubles were their own and no one else's, and he had too much of the world's weight on his shoulders now to worry about their problems.

As he watched the surface of the pool, however, a sudden thought sprang into his mind, and before he could stop himself, he shouted, "Gardner! Wait!"

The amber-haired bowmaster stopped and turned to eye his student. "Yes, Phoenix?"

"What does _'Falchion' _mean?" he asked, with absolute curiosity.

Gardner's face showed the slightest bit of surprise before he replied, "It means '_Dragon'_, Phoenix."

Then, with a swish of his cape, he was gone.

-----

Major General Aslan Seles silently stalked the halls of the Elaesian military headquarters, deftly avoiding the gazes of all that were turned towards him. Those foolish enough to pursue the tall warrior were met with an angry stare that quickly diverted their attention to less threatening tasks.

He continued to walk through the Elaesian halls until he reached the whitewashed walls of the Beta Division headquarters of the complex- where the warriors were housed. Ignoring the astonished remarks and questions that were thrown like bullets at him, Marron grumpily opened the door to his room and slammed it shut behind him.

He threw a slightly hateful glance at his reflection in the mirror before taking off his armor, the ivory-shaded cuirass sliding off his tall figure and hitting the ground with a loud metallic clang and leaving him clad in a white undershirt and a pair of long, dark pants. He stretched his arms out and looked at himself in the mirror once more. If truth be told, he was a mess- blood streaked his blonde hair and face, and there were several large cuts and bruises on his figure where the armor had broken. He would need to repair it later.

He collapsed onto his bed with a loud thud, the bedsprings groaning under the Paladin's weight. Dimly, he realized he hadn't eaten for well over twelve hours, but he wasn't hungry. Whatever signals for food his brain was sending were being ignored by the gigantic feeling of guilt that rested in his chest. It was as though someone had ripped a chasm in his gut.

Privately, he felt innately guilty for Ascion Blade's death, as if he himself had been the one dueling Grace and not Ark. He knew the guilt was irascible- it wasn't as if he had been able to do anything anyway. Grace was _powerful- _there was no doubt about that. Whoever or whatever she was, her abilities had been enhanced to the point where they were practically legendary. She had toyed with Ascion before his death, and made it perfectly clear that she was not someone to be trifled with.

Still, the fact remained that Ark was his friend- regardless of how much he wanted to deny it, Ark, as well as Ryden, had been two of the few people who had actually wanted to spend time in his company.

_It wasn't my fault, _he thought stubbornly, as he toyed with a strand of his hair. He hadn't always been like this. Since his birth, he had taken abuse from the citizens of Perion about his father, calling him a "curse upon one of the greatest warriors that ever walked this earth." He had been told on more than one occasion, "If it wasn't for your birth, your father and mother would still be here amongst us."

Of course, he would have gladly slaughtered anyone who dared tarnish the name of Kain Marron, but the fact remained that the White Knight who had taken care of him for the first thirteen years of his life simply was not his biological father. And when he heard the news, it had hit him hard. Not only was he furious at Seles for deserting him at such a critical time, but he also felt like a person accused of a crime he didn't commit. Why were the citizens of Perion blaming _him _because Seles was the one who had abandoned _his _son?

For that, he hated the Dark Knight who had appeared to him eight years ago out of thin air and torn him away from the life he thought he had. As if to add insult to injury, the supposed "greatest warrior ever to walk this earth" only had one bloody arm! Losing his arm to Zakum after misusing a third release…was it really as though he had nothing better to do than gamble with his life and father children he didn't care about?

To his benefit, Seles _had _tried to help him, but he privately thought that the Dark Knight was trying to make up for lost time by treating him like a student. Because of Keiga Seles' guidance, Dariel Marron had mastered the arts of the Crusader, White Knight, and the Dragon Knight at the same time, but he would have gladly exchanged all that battle knowledge for a father's love- a love he knew Seles could never really give him.

That was why, when he'd gone to the Island of Ascension for his fourth-class advancement, he had chosen the path of a Paladin, and not that of a Dark Knight.

Which brought the guilt back full-circle. As a Paladin, the highest order of warriors to reside upon this earth, he should have been defending the weak, as he'd recited. Not standing by and watching others get blasted to their deaths, not abandoning them to die as though their lives had no meaning. Never mind the fact that Ark had explicitly told him not to get in the way- he honestly _had _felt guilt when Ascion died and he wanted revenge just as much as the crusader had. That only served to double the pain he felt at having let Ascion die and Grace escape.

There came a knock at his door, and he felt like shouting "Leave me the _hell _alone!" at the top of his voice. He didn't care if Athena herself stood behind the threshold of his room- he really didn't feel like being in the company of another person now. However, depression managed to silence his indignation for a moment, and he listlessly opened the door.

Ryden Dracon and Lisande Isalden were standing there, somber expressions on their faces as their blades hung at their side. He noticed with some shock that Lisande was sporting a brilliant black eye, a large purple bruise covering a good part of her face and marring her otherwise elegant beauty.

"What…happened?" he asked gingerly. In the back of his mind, he realized he was standing before the crown heir of the elves wearing only underclothes, but there was little he could do about it now.

"It was Ark." Lisande answered. Seeing the puzzled expression on his face, she clarified herself. "I approached him at a bad time." she added, her expression somewhat regretful. "I don't blame him. I should have known better than to trouble him…"

"Nevertheless, I'll drag him in front of you to apologize when he gets over himself." he replied, as he touched a finger to Lisande's throbbing cheek. "Revitalize."

The Paladin's healing arte suffused the bruise in Lisande's face, and she visibly relaxed as the dark color drained from her face and the swelling went down. "Thank you, Seles."

"I told you not to call me that-" Marron began to snap, but he decided it didn't really matter anymore. After all, he couldn't hide from his past any more than he could go back in time and change it. "Never mind. Have a seat." he said, throwing himself onto the bed, and the other two seated themselves in chairs facing him. "What did you come here for?"

"Probably the same reason you shut yourself up in your room." Ryden said shortly, his normally cheerful voice marred by an ominous undertone. "Did you see what happened to Ascion? That was- _impossible." _He looked like he would have used an expletive, but the two were wary of Lisande's presence. "I never thought Ascion would have gotten blown away that easily…"

"Well, there's no getting around it anymore. He's gone." Marron's voice was stained by a faint shadow of regret. "And while I mean no disrespect to Ark or his brother, I think we need to figure out just what the bloody hell is going on here. Why would that girl want to single out Ascion for death?"

"I know just as much as you do." Ryden gave a listless shrug. "He _was _one of the most powerful priests on this earth, and it's possible that she- or maybe Gault, Goddess forbid- decided to take him out before he became a real threat."

"Who is Gault?" Lisande asked curiously, and the two swordsmen suddenly realized that she hadn't been present at The Resistance's first and last meeting when Rathias Gardner had briefly given a short discourse on the nature of what they were up against.

"A freakin' psycho." Marron answered wryly, but Ryden cut in with a less blunt description. "Gault Isentryx is a bowman, one of Rathias Gardner's former students. Gardner said that he was corrupted by necromancy and devised a plan to rid the world of all non-bowmen because of a bad childhood experience." Ryden brushed sweat off his brow. "That, and he's already killed countless innocent people by possessing Zeraion Phoenix and razing the city of Perion."

Lisande's expression became slightly disturbed. "I see. Now I understand why you three were so intent on requesting outside assistance to combat the demons."

"Right." Marron rubbed the palms of his hands together. "We also know that somehow, he's managed to take control of the monsters in the Sanctuary- the Tauros and the Balrogs- and bring them outside their habitat to attack us. That's not a good thing."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Ryden muttered, and Marron's face paled slightly. "With Ascion gone, I think the rest of us definitely need to step up our guard. We never know who Gault might decide to knock off next."

"That's a nice thought." Marron lay back and stared up at the ceiling. "Who else could it be?"

"Perhaps Ark." Ryden shrugged. "Maybe he's just after people related to Zer."

"But then again, why would he be so interested in Zeraion in the first place?" Marron asked to no one in particular, ignoring Lisande's puzzled expression indicating she had no idea who on earth "Zeraion" was. "He's a bowman too, and it's not like Gault would want anything special to do with him, unless maybe they got into a childhood argument or something…"

"A scapegoat." Ryden replied almost instantly, snapping his fingers. "Gardner said that Gault practiced Final Attack, and we all know that only one who practiced that ability would be able to wreak such a large amount of destruction at once. He must have used some kind of mind control arte on Zeraion or something to get him to take the blame."

"That's just evil." Marron said flatly, wrinkling his nose. Privately, he felt a large measure of guilt weighing against his chest because he knew he was the one who had tried to kill Zeraion in revenge for destroying Perion. However, Ryden either seemed to have forgotten the incident or did not mention it out of tact. "We never know. Maybe he's using the same kind of mind control thing on that girl."

"Perhaps." Marron said, his forehead wrinkling pensively. "That still doesn't answer the question of who Gault might want to bump off next, though. We do know that he's using mind control on people, which I suspect might also be the reason why thousands of Balrogs and Tauros are attacking us, but why the sudden need for assassinations?"

"To thin out our forces." Ryden muttered, slowly but meaningfully. "He's aiming for the best people we have in our ranks, cutting us down, so that when he prepares his final attack, so to speak, we'll be easy pickings."

"Forgive me for asking," Lisande piped up, a strange kind of pessimistic farce coming into her voice, "but would the best people you have in your ranks include the sons of Dracon and Seles, the greatest Hero and Dark Knight known to time?"

Both Ryden and Marron blanched. "Good point." the former finally said, after a drawn silence. "What do you suggest we do about this, Dariel?" Marron noted in the back of his head that Ryden was still kind enough to use his assumed name in conversation.

"Well…" The Paladin ran a hand across the back of his head and was surprised to find it sweaty. "There actually _isn't _a lot we can do. The most logical thing to do would be to flee to safety, such as Ossyria, but we'd only be separating ourselves from the center of action and that wouldn't help our cause. We could also stay here, but we run the risk of suffering the same fate as Ascion."

"Ark would have a good plan." Lisande mused, almost too quietly to hear, and Ryden gave a snort which he hastily passed off as a hacking cough. "Interesting point. Where is Ark, anyway?"

"I haven't seen him since we last…met." Lisande said, delicately skirting over the injury that the berserk warrior had given her. "I doubt it would be wise to approach him now."

"I know, but we don't have much of a choice." Ryden stood up and opened the door. "At this moment, everybody in Elaesia is in danger, and the sooner we find him the better. I'm not unsympathetic for him right now, but if he has any ideas, I would like to hear them."

Silently accepting the swordsman's logic, Lisande stiffly got to her feet and shuffled out the door, her bow and shortsword hitched over her back. Ryden was about to leave when his gaze flitted towards Marron. "Dariel."

"Yeah?" Marron grunted from the bed, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes.

Ryden wrinkled his nose briefly before he said, "Put some clothes on." There was a small noise as the door closed behind him.

-----

Silently, Ark cradled his brother's ashes in his hands and knelt in front of his parents' graves.

The house that the three siblings had once lived in had long since been converted to an armory, but Athena had been kind enough to allow for a fairly adequate-sized clearing near the back of the complex for Rafael Wolfen and Avelyn Blade's gravestones, out of respect to the priest and crusader.

Their youngest son would be joining them soon.

Ark gently scraped away at the dirt that lay in front of his parents' memoriam stones, his fingers riffling through the earth with an almost mechanical air. With the same deliberate, emotionless mentality, he tenderly lowered the small handful of blackened, nondescript powder towards the ground and let it trickle between his fingers into the small depression in the earth.

He silently bowed his head as he covered up the makeshift grave, the soft sound of sobbing reaching his ears. He had never cried in front of Zeraion or Ascion- as his siblings' only guardian and father figure, he couldn't have afforded to act the least bit weak in front of them. He had always been strong, resilient, able to take the blows for his two younger brothers.

It was the first time in eleven years that Ark Rafael Wolfen had truly cried, as tears seeped from his eyes. The crying he'd done in Athena's office was superficial, uncontrollable- but now, the quiet solitude seemed to magnify his inner sorrow hundredfold.

He cried for a little longer before the tears stopped, not because his sorrow was gone, but because there was simply nothing left. He knew at this point that crying would never get him anywhere, so he merely knelt upon the ground as wet streaks of red lined his face.

Then, as though an angel had suddenly taken control of his mind, he began to sing softly, reciting a short tune that he had used more than once to calm his toddler brother to sleep:

_Golden slumber kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await you when you rise.  
Sleep, pretty baby, do not cry,  
And I'll sing you a lullaby._

_Care you know not, therefore sleep,  
While I o'er you watch do keep.  
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,  
And I will sing you a lullaby._

The song seemed to relax him, and he finally closed his eyes knowing that Ascion was in a better place somewhere else. A sense of irony rested over him- all his life, he had been taking care of his little brother, protecting him. Now, Ascion was watching over him.

Briefly, his mind thought of Zeraion, still miles away upon the Isle of Ascension, and he felt a quick flash of regret. If only Zeraion had been here with him, then they might have been able to save Ascion together…

The horrible feeling in his stomach quickly gave way to a resigned sorrow. There was nothing he- or anyone else, for that matter, could do about it. Zeraion was training for the world's own good, and he would come back. He _had _to come back. Someday.

Ark stared upwards, his dark hair fluttering into his face. The sky was a pure midnight black, but the stars and moon were shining as bright as he had ever seen them, throwing a gentle silvery sheen over the grounds of Elaesia. As he gazed into the moon, he thought for the faintest of moments that he could see his brother's face once more.

_Zeraion…don't die. Promise me you'll come back, and we'll avenge our brother together._

He lowered his head once more and drew the yellowed envelope from his father from the metallic folds of his cuirass. The eleven year-old letter crinkled in his fingers and he unfolded it with care, so as not to tear the precious parchment.

He briefly read the note to himself one more time, although he had already memorized its contents long ago. Taking a deep breath, he folded the paper up, returned it to its envelope, and eased it back into the inner depths of his armor, tucking it into a comfortable niche.

Even if it cost him his life, he would avenge his brother, but first, he had to find Keiga Seles. There was something he needed to tell the Dark Knight.

He silently left his family's grave and walked off into the night, his burnt cape trailing behind him as the pendant that Ascion had given him fluttered around his neck in the gentle breeze.

-----

Meanwhile, the conference room in Elaesia was rife with heated discussion as voices cut through the air like flaming arrows. Athena, as usual, sat at the head of the large, ornate table, her hawk-like gaze resting on her opponent before her. Sitting Bull and Grendel, as well as the Dark Knight Keiga Seles, quietly sat in the side seats, watching the battle. At the opposite end of the table sat Dark Lord.

The topic of conversation today was Kerning City, and a heated argument had erupted almost as soon as the talking had begun. Given that Gault Isentryx had already attacked the cities of Perion and Ellinia, leaving destruction in his wake, it was logically obvious that the thief stronghold was next on his list.

"For the last time, I have told you, something _must _be done about Kerning City." Athena said, her normally elegant voice carrying an undercurrent of resentment. "The city houses well over hundreds of thousands of innocent people. We cannot stand by and do nothing."

"I agree with you, my dear Athena, but I do not believe leaving the city open to be destroyed would be a good method of defense." The thief lord calmly twirled a razor-sharp Ilbi star about his index finger in a dizzying helix pattern. His eyes glittered with rage under his mask, his voice tinged with venom. "Here I come, expecting you to conjure up some marvelous plan for my city's defense, and you turn your back on its citizens, leaving them to be destroyed?"

"Try and be reasonable." Athena said calmly, although her deadly, level tone suggested otherwise. "Regardless of how many troops we send to defend it, Kerning City will be destroyed. Gault cares neither for supplies nor tactics. His only method is to attack en masse."

"All the easier to defeat him, then." The thief leader flicked the lethally-sharp star into the air before catching it once more. "You underestimate our power, Athena. Using our stealth abilities, we could easily bring down a troop of ten thousand Balrogs in one fell swoop with minimal, if any, casualties. I see no reason to abandon the city as it is."

"Please, get some sense into yourself." The bowmistress felt herself being pushed to the very edge of her patience. "No matter how skilled your units are- and I do not doubt their power- you cannot charge into battle and expect to suffer no casualties. Balrogs are not snails. Their power is very real, and very dangerous, and in large numbers they can wreak massive amounts of havoc and destruction. We cannot afford to lose any more fighters as it is."

"We can't afford to have Kerning City mowed down, either." Although his mouth was hidden behind his mask, Athena could clearly tell Dark Lord had an almost rabid look on his face. "What you're suggesting is madness."

"What I am suggesting is common sense." Athena replied curtly, refusing to be intimidated. "By evacuating the city before an attack, our losses will be material, not physical. Are a few buildings really worth more than innocent people's lives?"

A vein bulged in the thief leader's temple. "The damage would be immense. It would cost millions- no, billions of mesos to rebuild the city, if not even trillions. This city was founded ages ago by the honorable rogues of Bera, grown into the largest metropolis upon Victoria, and you are letting it fall in one fell swoop?"

"I wasn't aware that you were willing to sacrifice your countrymen to preserve a few rickety buildings, my friend." Athena replied coldly. "If you need reminding, I will tell you that Perion and Ellinia are also in need of repairs, and while their maintenance costs may not be as high as that of Kerning's, their damage is very real. This is not a good time to be selfish. We must take the people's interests into account."

"Right." Dark Lord gave a disdainful sniff and flicked the star into the air once more, where it embedded itself neatly into the ceiling. "Do you think the people's interests involve giving up their homes, their businesses, and turning themselves out in the cold like animals? They would rather die."

"If that is their point of view, then I certainly won't stop them." Athena said, her fingers resting calmly against the grain of the table. "However, if I were given the choice, I would rather ensure the safety of my family first before I started thinking about economic matters."

Dark Lord merely looked contemptuous, and Athena could see him muttering something offensive underneath his mask. It was Seles who broke the uneasy silence. "Let us take a survey of Delta Regiment. See for yourselves who wants to fight and who wants to flee. Whatever the majority decides, we shall follow."

As a tacit agreement that the meeting was over, Dark Lord muttered, "Haste" and sped from the room, his outline a blur against the whitewashed walls of the room. Sitting Bull and Grendel quietly excused themselves as well, leaving the room unceremoniously. Only Seles remained.

"Is something worrying you, Keiga?" Athena asked, looking up at the knight.

"While your argument was undeniably correct, I can't help sharing some of his points of view." Seles replied, his eyes closed. "I _would _be hard-pressed to see my home of several years destroyed in a single day. There are those who would choose death defending their home."

"We need all the manpower we can get at Elaesia." Athena replied, softly but firmly. "While a person who dies defending Kerning City may be noble, he cannot help us defend Elaesia, and I believe that is where Gault will prepare his final assault. Our first priority is to evacuate the city so that when and if he does attack, there will be no loss of life."

"Hm." Looking as though he would have liked to say something more, Seles stood up and left the room as well, leaving the bowmistress to her own devices. Personally, he thought the sooner this whole mess ended, the better. Athena looked as though she'd aged a hundred years in the past several weeks- although, knowing her elven blood, that wouldn't make much of a difference to her physical beauty.

He shook his head, his auburn locks flowing about his shoulders, and brushed perspiration from his forehead. Aslan would be coming back soon…

"Seles."

The voice hit Seles like a brick wall, and he stopped abruptly. He knew the voice- although it wasn't Aslan's, it was a voice that he had heard many times over from years past, and he was surprised at its tone, dark, emotionless, and forbidding.

"Wolfen." The Dark Knight calmly inclined his head at his former student, silhouetted in the black night. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Without any warning whatsoever, Ark blurted out, "Ascion's dead."

Seles' mouth opened briefly and closed, not saying anything.

"He…He was killed at the battle near Ellinia." Ark went on, struggling to conceal his true emotions under a fragile veil of apathy. "I…I tried to save him, but I couldn't."

Seles lowered his gaze to the ground, continuing to remain silent. It was some time before he finally spoke. "Know that I carry the greatest condolences for you and your brother, Ark, but may I ask what all this has to do with me?"

"You're- you're a Dark Knight." Ark spluttered, his sense of decorum failing him. "You trained Marron into a Paladin. Could- could you…"

The spear-master remained silent as Ark struggled to finish his sentence.

"I want to be a Hero." he finally whispered, his voice a sliver in the night. "I want to make the fourth-class advancement."

Briefly, Seles' gaze flickered upwards, towards the moon. "I…see." he replied, his voice careful, controlled. "It is not that I wish to hinder you, Ark, because I do not doubt your abilities. However…what you are suggesting is impossible."

"What?!" The word tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. "But- but why?! I can- I mean, if Dariel could do it, then-"

"It is not that." The Dark Knight's expression was shadowed in the night, and Ark could barely see the outline of his head and the glimmer of his claret pupils in the darkness. "As you know, I just came from a meeting with Athena and the other leaders. We expect a large-scale assault to be made by Isentryx within the weeks. You cannot hope to reach the title of a Hero in such a short time, lest you run the risk of suffering the same fate as your mother."

"My…mother?" Ark froze, the beads of sweat on his face illuminated in the moonlight.

"Avelyn was a wonderful crusader." Seles' voice was somewhat regretful; it was the same tone he had used when he had told Ryden the truth about his parents. "During my time in the Perion Guard Academy, she, as well as Ryden's late father, were my classmates. While she never quite attained the early brilliance of Final Attack that Dracon and I managed to master, she was brilliant in her blade techniques. She could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee…as the oft-clichéd phrase goes."

"But…what happened?" Ark whispered breathlessly.

Seles blinked for a brief moment. "It was some time after Zeraion's birth that she grew…ambitious. At the time, I believe Rafael Wolfen was a senior researcher in the Ellinian research corps, and while his work was brilliant, his salary was anything but. I think she took it upon herself to earn the title of a Hero so that she could take care of her two children. She set herself on a fierce training regimen, traveling with me almost daily to the icy peaks of Ossyria to hunt werewolves."

Ark blinked. What Seles was saying was almost too lofty to believe, but it did make sense- his mother had rarely been at home during the short period of time between Zeraion and Ascion's births.

"As you know, mastery of a third release is vital to attaining the fourth class." Seles' voice carried a faint trace of regret as his gaze fluttered to his left arm. "That being the case, Avelyn, as skilled as she was, never quite got used to the nuances of using Final Attack on such a grand scale. The physical toll of her practice took itself out on her body. Steadily, week after week, month after month, she grew weaker." Seles gazed up into the sky, his pupils shimmering. "At any rate, she was well aware that her practice carried a heavy cost, but she continued on, hoping that she might be able to reach that treasured level that so many of us have long yearned for."

Ark did not speak. The sudden affection he felt for his mother on having practically sacrificed herself for the sake of her children was too much to bear.

"However, it came to a head when she became pregnant once more." Seles shook his head regretfully, his auburn locks fluttering in the breeze. "At that stage, she should have rested and taken care of her child, but she only practiced harder, knowing that there would be another to take care of soon. That, I believe, weakened her body to the point where she could no longer handle childbirth, leading to her tragic and early demise." The Dark Knight made a soft, regretful noise. "Sometimes, I wonder if I should have stopped her."

Ark remained silent, thinking of his mother and of the rare time they had spent together. He suddenly realized that wherever he was now, Ascion was finally with his mother, the beautiful, kind woman that had given her life for him. The thought both relaxed and moved him to tears.

"And that," Seles finished, pretending not to notice Ark's crying in the moonlight, "is why I think you shouldn't be throwing your well-being away on such a lofty goal. Dariel had years of practicing with a third release on his side, and even then, he still suffered many injuries. You, unfortunately, do not, and it would be suicide to try and condense years of blood, sweat, and practice into the span of weeks. The Elaesians cannot afford to lose someone such as yourself."

"Zeraion's doing it anyway." The outspokenness of his own voice surprised Ark, but he continued speaking on impulse. "He's hundreds of miles away with Rathias Gardner, practicing who knows what so he can come back someday and defeat Gault. If my own younger brother's doing it, why can't I?"

His tone was childish, and he realized it almost as soon as he'd finished speaking. The expression on the Dark Knight's face was unreadable, but then again he couldn't see much in the dark. There was a tense moment of silence between them before the latter spoke. "Your mother would be proud of you, Ark. You've learned many powerful techniques that will serve you well in the years to come, and you've even taken it upon yourself to learn an arcane arte or two. Avelyn would never forgive me if I allowed her son to suffer the same fate that she had met."

"I know, but…" The conflict between Ark's desire to survive for his mother and to avenge his brother was too strong. "Please, Seles. Just teach me something. _Anything _that might help me survive a little longer so I can make sure my brother didn't die in vain."

Seles' eyes seemed to flicker like candle flames in the night before he spoke, albeit grudgingly. "If that is really how you feel, Ark…then I have no right to stop you." Despite the darkness, Ark could see the Dark Knight's mouth curve into a thin smile. "Like mother, like son."

There was a crinkling sound as Seles drew what looked like a scrap of parchment and a fountain pen from his pocket. He briefly knelt down and scribbled something on the paper, using his left knee as a base, until he rolled the paper up and sealed it with a length of cord.

"Take this, and go to El Nath. Give it to Tylus, the third-class warrior instructor, and tell him I sent you. Everything will make sense from there." His gaze flickered briefly towards the buildings in the background. "Athena is sending a transport carrier to Ossyria for supplies now. It leaves in ten minutes. If you run, you can still make it. Now hurry!"

Ark quickly snatched the letter from the Dark Knight's palm and broke into a run, his greaves thudding loudly against the ground. When he was about a hundred feet away, he turned around and briefly shouted, "Seles…thank you!" before disappearing into the night.

Keiga Seles silently stood on the Elaesian grounds and watched his student disappear in the direction of the airstrip, where the next ship would leave for Orbis in nine minutes' time. As the sound of hurried footsteps faded in the wind, the Dark Knight couldn't resist another somber smile.

"Avelyn…" he whispered softly, twisting a strand of his hair between his fingers. "Forgive me, but it seems that like you, your son is a little too strong-willed for his own good."

-----

Far away from the destruction that still reigned over Ellinia, Gault Isentryx looked at his reflection in the icy walls of Meteon E'traia's great halls.

The sight that met him was rather hideous. His hair, messily splayed across the back of his neck and the edge of his shoulders, had previously been a shade of midnight-black, but was now streaked with touches of white, making him look fifty years older than he really was. His face, although smooth, was deathly pale, the color of bone, and his pupils were a bloody shade of unnatural red. Although he seemed like a normal person from a faraway glance, he was anything but up close.

Balthazar Gazhevrog forced himself to keep that in mind as he stood in front of Gault, his gigantic spear hung behind his back as his claws rested against the floor. He had gotten used to being Gault's proxy as of late, and although he would rather have preferred a nice night of hunting and feasting in the Sleepywood forest as opposed to listening to the human's drivel, he had realized by now it was probably best not to get on the dark bowmaster's bad side.

The Balrog broke the silence first. "_Raizen's returned."_

"I see." Gault's eyes remained fixed on his reflection for a moment before he turned back to eye the demon with an almost bored air. "Will you give a report on the events, or do I need to wait for her to arrive in person?"

"_Ascion Blade is dead." _came the no-frills reply. _"Just as you ordered."_

A thin, cruel smile lit up the bowmaster's ghastly features, as Balthazar tried not to notice. "Excellent. Then, I suppose I will have no trouble going into the next phase of my little plan." He spoke the words with a childish, toying tone that was deadly more than anything.

"_Forgive me for asking, but what exactly would that entail?" _the Balrog replied patiently. "_I suppose it involves bloodlust." _he added, in a slightly cynical overtone.

"Why, of course it does!" Gault replied, in a mock cheerful voice that made Balthazar think more than anything he'd lost his mind. "As a matter of fact, I need you to do me a favor. You can scry, I presume?"

_"Yes." _he grunted in response. Generally, the Omega Balrog's artes were more suited to crushing and rending enemies into unrecognizable bits, but the demon could also use a few necromantic spells on the side.

"Good." Gault delicately swished a finger through the air, as if he were aiming a gun at an invisible enemy. "In that case, I would like you to find…Aslan Seles."

Closing his eyes, Balthazar pressed his clawed paws together and chanted a short verse in the demonic tongue. A small circle of arcane glyphs glowed briefly about him before the light faded.

He opened his eyes.

-----

With a deliberate, determined air, Ryden Dracon, Dariel Marron, and Lisande Isalden strode across the dark grounds of Elaesia with a single purpose in mind. The three had taken care to change their severely-scarred armor from the long march through Sleepywood; Ryden wore a silver-shaded cuirass and Marron wore a large set of blackened mail, the hem of which swept across the ground. Lisande wore a white cloak over her otherwise-elegant dress robes.

"Where…is he?" Marron muttered, his hand clenching briefly around the hilt of his sword. "It's not as if Elaesia is that big. He should be here somewhere…"

"Maybe we should split up and search." Ryden responded in kind, but a sudden thought from Lisande stopped him.

"Perhaps…" The princess slowly exhaled, putting a hand to her temples in thought. "He may have gone to his parents' graves."

"Why would he do that?" Ryden wondered, an eyebrow arched in surprise.

"It's just a guess, but…perhaps he would want his brother buried in the same spot as his mother and father." Lisande answered softly.

"Well, does anyone know where his parents are buried, then?" Ryden asked out loud.

"Their house was demolished to make room for an armory some time ago, but the grave still stands." Marron abruptly turned into a side street, his greaves scraping the road. "Here."

After a brief moment of walking, all three swordsmen paused in front of a small clearing behind said armory, where an otherwise nondescript patch of land was adorned with two large slabs of carved marble, inscribed with elegant block letters:

_Avelyn Gaelia Blade_

_July 17, AB 2167 - April 4, AB 2192_

_Rafael Celas Wolfen_

_August 28, AB 2163 - December 5, AB 2196_

The grave had obviously been visited very recently, as was apparent by the heavyset footprints in the earth, and it looked like part of the ground had been dug up and carefully filled back in again, but apart from that, there was no clue where Ark was right now.

"Damn it!" Ryden's voice broke the silence, cutting through the air like a sword. "We've lost him!"

"Maybe we should give it a rest, Ryden." Marron answered bluntly, raking a handful of hair out of his face. "None of us have slept or eaten for fourteen hours straight."

"That didn't stop Ark, and it sure as hell isn't going to stop us." the swordsman replied hotly, turning his back on the other two. "We'll ask Athena. Maybe she knows where he went."

Lisande and Marron exchanged quizzical looks before following after Ryden, on their way to the bowmistress' office. The sheath of Marron's gigantic sword jangled noisily against the back of his armor in time to his steps as Ryden and Lisande's blades dipped close to their ankles.

However, the presence of another figure on the grounds interrupted their running for a moment. As the moonlight passed over his face, all three could see the tall, silent figure of Keiga Seles staring into the sky. He looked somewhat tired and ill as they neared him, but he quickly assumed a casual expression when his ex-students skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Where are you three headed off to in the midst of such a late hour?" Seles asked amicably, trying to sound as conversational as possible.

"Have you seen Ark?" Ryden panted, his hands at his sides.

The smile was wiped off the Dark Knight's face almost as quickly as it had came. "I assume you know what happened to Wolfen's brother, then?"

"Saw it with our own eyes." Ryden shook his head regretfully as strands of dark hair flew across his eyes. "But we really need to find him now. You see, we think we might have a motive behind Ascion's death-"

"And that could possibly involve Ark as well." Lisande finished breathlessly. "Has he passed by?"

Seles' eyes flickered pensively, and the swordsmen could see he was debating on whether or not to tell them the information. At length, he finally replied, "Yes- he has gone somewhere, but where and why is not your place to know."

"Why not?!" Ryden snapped indignantly. "He's our friend, and we care about him!"

The elder knight managed a humorless smile, the hilt of his Fairfrozen peeking from behind his shoulders. "Friendship aside, Ark has left on a personal matter, and it would be best if you three not disturb him for the moment."

"What kind of personal matter?" Marron asked, a slight bit of curiosity in his voice.

"It wouldn't be personal any longer if I told you, Aslan." Seles replied, his voice slightly barbed. Marron recoiled at the sound of his true identity.

"At least tell us where he went." Ryden brushed some wayward hair from his face. "We can find him and talk to him when he's ready."

"He went to El Nath, and that is all I will tell you for the moment." Seles' eyes flickered up towards the moon. "By the way, I suppose I should inform you that the transport carrier bound for Ossyria- the one Ark is currently on- left one minute ago."

Ryden swore, while Marron muttered something under his breath and Lisande's face remained stark. There was a pregnant pause before Ryden asked, "When does the next ship leave?"

"I never said there would be a next ship." Seles replied smoothly, his voice not missing a beat.

"Transport ships always leave in groups." Ryden answered, his tone rapier-sharp.

Seles closed his eyes and gave another slightly rueful smile. "You are sharp indeed, Ryden." he murmured, almost too quietly to hear. "You are truly your father's son…If you insist, the next carrier departs in an hour."

Ryden sighed and muttered something through his teeth, his hand raking across his forehead. "Thanks." he muttered to Seles before tearing off in the direction of the airstrip. He stopped about a hundred feet away and shouted back, "Come on! What are you waiting for?!"

Lisande quickly gathered her bearings and followed after Ryden, but Marron and Seles exchanged a contemptible stare with each other before the former ran after his two companions.

_-----_

Balthazar closed his eyes briefly and separated his gnarled claws, breaking the spell. _"Aslan Seles, as well as his companions- the son of Dracon and the elven heir Lisande Isalden- are traveling to El Nath."_

Gault raised an eyebrow. It was the greatest degree of surprise Balthazar, or anyone else for that matter, had ever seen him make. "On what pretenses?"

_"Based on what I was able to hear, it seems they are merely following the trail of another." _The Balrog grunted and wiped a large claw across his forehead. _"Apparently, Ark Rafael Wolfen left on a transport carrier bound for Ossyria precisely one minute ago. His companions are now following him."_

"Why would Wolfen be going to El Nath in the first place?" Gault muttered, almost whimsically, as his crimson pupils briefly swept across the otherwise-empty hall. "Could it, perhaps, have something to do with his brother's death?"

_"That I was not able to discern." _the Balrog replied, rather gruffly, as his glare impassively rested on his lord. "_It would be safe to say that he is not traveling on a mundane matter, however."_

"True. Older siblings can be quite protective of their younger kin." Gault noted, with a slightly sardonic air.

"_Should I send an assault team to intercept the ships?" _the demon asked, his massive barrel arms folded impassively across his front.

"No." Gault shook his head. "Regardless of my feelings towards Athena, I won't violate the sanctity of cargo ships. Besides, such a maneuver would only serve to increase the Ossyrians' interest in the matter." His eyes seemed to flicker like flames and Balthazar knew the bowmaster was devising an alternate scheme in the back of his mind as he spoke. "Intercept them when they land, but no sooner."

"_As you wish." _The Balrog calmly turned around and stomped out of the icy hall, his retreating figure giving way to a much smaller, graceful silhouette. Beautiful hair seemed to sweep through the hall as a pair of pupils the bluish-white color of lightning seemed to illuminate the whole of Meteon E'traia with their flash.

Grace Raizen silently entered the hall, the hem of her sky-blue robe scraping the floor of the palace-like hall. Neither she nor Gault said a word as she moved across the hall and perched herself on the rim of the latter's chair, like an affectionate pet.

"Ascion's dead." she whispered, her tone quiet and soft. There was something in her voice that wasn't quite regret, but wasn't emotionless either.

"Yes. I am well aware of that." Gault replied coldly, his arms folded as he stared at the doorway that Balthazar had just exited through. "It is quite a shame."

"When Zeraion finds out…he will be very angry." For a precious moment, Grace's normally toneless voice carried the slightest trace of emotion. "He will come and find you, with all his strength and fury. He will try to kill you."

Gault turned back towards Grace, and she could see a kind of manic mirth in his blood-red pupils as he swept an arm across the frigid halls of the room.

"Let him come, Raizen." he whispered, as the fangs of his Shinebow gleamed in the light. "Let him come."

-----

The wind whipped Ark Wolfen's hair as he stared ahead into the midnight sky, a few traces of clouds streaking through the otherwise-clear atmosphere. The moon and stars twinkled down on him like old companions, but he took little notice of them.

The memories of previous days haunted him as he silently leaned his elbows against the cold metal railing of the ship's deck, surrounded by nothing except empty air and his own thoughts. The last time he had been on an airship, it had been with Zeraion and Ascion, still fresh off the success of their third-class advancements, without a care in the world. They had promised each other they would stay brothers forever.

Now one was gone from the face of the earth, and the other was hundreds of miles away, not knowing if he would ever return.

Sadly, his eyes blinked several times, but the tears did not fall. There was only so much he could cry. Despite everything, he was still Ascion Blade's older brother, and he couldn't let himself appear weak even after his younger brother was gone. He was watching him now.

The mysterious letter from Seles was still tucked safely in his pocket, and Ark had no way of knowing what was inside it. Knowing the situation, why couldn't the Dark Knight simply teach him something- perhaps a new battle technique or arte, as opposed to sending him across the continent for reasons unknown?

He fished the scroll from his pocket and balanced it lightly on his palm, wondering what on earth could be so important that he had to deliver it straight to the 3rd-class warrior instructor. The scroll didn't appear very important, but knowing Seles, anything could be inside it.

Purely out of curiosity, before he could stop himself, he plucked at the ribbon tied around the scroll, carefully undoing the knot, and the piece of parchment unfurled itself in his hand.

He held it up to the sky, using the dim moonlight as his lamp, and took note of Seles' immaculate, flowing script. There were only three words written on the paper:

_It is time._

Utterly confused, Ark wondered just exactly what Seles was referring to. He wondered if there might be a secret message on the paper, but immediately discounted the thought. It was very unlikely that the Dark Knight's pen had a hidden ink chamber with lemon juice in it, and anyway, he had no source of heat to test the message.

He carefully rolled the missive back up and tied it neatly with the ribbon, giving no evidence that it had been read, and eased it back into his pocket.

Out of boredom more than anything, he unsheathed the large Helios axe from the massive holder on his back and examined it under the celestial aura of the moon. Despite its excellent construction, several scratches and set-in stains were already beginning to tarnish it, and he could see a series of fairly deep jags along the otherwise razor-sharp edge. He realized that they must have been inflicted from his short duel with Grace, and he quietly noted in the back of his mind he would need to reforge it some time.

He listlessly turned his gaze to the sky, and as he watched the clouds fly past, he thought he could see a small flash of light in the inky expanse of black, as well as the outline of a large, floating object.

Briefly, the crusader's heart clenched.

_Zeraion…_

He opened the pendant at his neck and gazed down at the picture. The childhood image of himself, Zeraion, and Ascion was still lying in his palm, the corner of which was ever so slightly scorched.

He still had one younger sibling to take care of.

The wind felt cold, yet somewhat relaxing, as it swirled about him on his way to Orbis Station.

-----

The dead of night was the one time where the city-state of Elaesia could quiet down and take a rest from its hectic schedule.

The archery strip, normally inhabited with rows upon rows of bowmen waiting to test their shots, was quiet and deserted for once. The shafts of broken arrows stuck from the ground like weeds, so rampant and numerous were they. The training grounds that belonged to the warriors was as empty as its cousin several hundred yards away. The shouts and cries of the fighters as they sparred against each other were silent in this hour. Magicians' explosions and thieves' battle-cries were all part of the past now, as sleepy silence reigned over the land.

The inside of the complex was no different. The call for lights out had already been sounded through the hall three hours ago, and practically everyone was resting in their beds, dreaming of the harsh training they would no doubt have to endure the next day. For them, it was all a matter of train, train, and train some more, until the next battle. Either you were in great physical condition, or you were dead.

That was how everyone spent their night, save for one person.

Traphes Igzarion silently walked the halls of the Elaesian headquarters, his footsteps barely audible as his tall, forbidding figure prowled through the narrow corridors. His night-black hair flowed past his shoulders, blending into the darkened walls, as the blackened limbs of his Metus angrily poked out from the back of his quiver. His breathing was heavy and exhausted, as though he'd just sprinted several miles without stopping.

"…_!" _A sudden spasm of pain shot through his body as he jerked sideways, as though pulled by an invisible hand. He clutched at the wall for support, breathing heavily as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. His heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding as sweat beaded down his forehead and the back of his neck.

"_Damn _it." he muttered fervently, raking his fingertips across his temples as he staggered to his feet once more. "It has to be here somewhere…" He resumed his walking, although at a slower pace, not wanting to aggravate another spasm.

Once he managed to catch his bearings, he managed to hold out for about five more minutes before the pain returned once more, clawing into him like a wild animal. It felt as though he were being stabbed with knives all over, and when he pressed a palm against his chest, he found it hot, almost as though his insides were on fire.

As pain rocked every nerve of his body, he could feel a soft, cruel voice worming its way past his ears and through his head, echoing through his brain.

_Come to me…Fall into the darkness that is your heart…_

"Shut _up!" _he roared, slamming a fist into his lower body, his knuckles cracking from the force of impact as they bounced off the demonic chamber that Athena had created for him so long ago. The large, iridescent crystal buried in his body seemed to glow fiercely, its normally vibrant sapphire color fading into deep purple.

He lunged forward and caught hold of the nearest door handle, the door swinging open with the force of his weight against it. Staggering to his feet and closing the door behind him, he dimly registered that he had entered the main cafeteria.

He raked a disheveled clump of hair from his face and maneuvered his way past the long rows of tables, occasionally wincing in pain as his insides burned in protest. After what seemed like a mile-long crawl, he found what he was looking for- the door to the kitchen. He slammed himself against it, throwing it open, and nearly collided with the floor as he stumbled to his feet.

The kitchen was bland, yet somewhat comfortable in its own way, as pots, pans, knives, and spoons hung on hooks mounted on the wall. Briefly, the ranger wondered just who was responsible for running this whole place and keeping several thousand units fed every day before he threw up.

There was a loud retching noise as a sudden wave of nausea overcame him, and he suddenly found himself hunched over the floor, everything he'd recently eaten being regurgitated out of him with painful velocity. Streams of sick dribbled from his mouth as he wrenched himself to his feet and rinsed his mouth several times over the sink, trying to clean himself as best he could.

"_Damn _it." he whispered hoarsely, the swearword sounding horribly overused in his brain. "It's never- _never- _been this bad before…"

He mustered the strength to pull himself away from the sink, delicately stepping over the mess he'd made on the floor, and yanked open the refrigerator. Ignoring the produce and other fresh ingredients on the shelves, he pulled a small vial of disgusting-looking golden-colored fluid from a small compartment in the cooler.

He shook the liquid briefly before opening the flask and downing the serum in one swift gulp. A combined sense of relief and discomfort washed through his veins as he felt the demon in his body slowly being suppressed by the effects of the medicine. The taste, a metallic, acrid odor, lingered on his tongue and in his nose as he closed the refrigerator door.

He glanced at the large puddle of half-digested food he'd left on the floor, and turned his back on it; but after second thought, he reluctantly yanked a dishtowel from the counter and cleaned up the mess, washing his hands almost obsessively afterwards to remove the offensive smell that lingered.

The alcohol's stupor-like effect worked almost instantly as his gaze slid in and out of focus, everything in his line of sight melting into a huge, shapeless mess of various colors. He ran a hand across his head, wiping beads of sweat from his temples. There was very little chance he would make it back to his own room in his currently inebriated state, but it would look very awkward if someone found him sleeping in the halls.

He swore as his head forcefully made contact with something hard, which he recognized as a decorative sconce on the wall, Rubbing his bruised forehead, he struggled to at least make it back to his room in one piece as he groped frantically at the walls for support.

Suddenly, his hand made contact with something soft, fluffy, and warm, its color a beautiful fiery red. Anxiously, he pulled it closer towards him, and he relaxed as it caressed the side of his face. Whatever he was holding smelled fresh and comforting, and it almost seemed to lull him to sleep.

Then he heard it say, "Get the hell off me, Iggy."

He opened his eyes and realized he was holding Delinia Arklanser's hair.

Shock pulsed through him as he leapt backwards, his head hitting the wall with a second, loud thud as her face swam out of view. He heard footsteps as she walked towards him, and he felt her take ahold of his hand and pull him to his feet. Her glassy crimson eyes rested pensively on him as he shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

"What're…you doin' up?" he muttered thickly, trying to keep his nausea in check. The last thing he wanted to do was vomit on one of the few people who had ever cared about him.

"It wasn't hard not to be awake." she muttered back, rubbing her eyes. "You damn near woke up everyone with you banging all over the place. Some people even thought we were being attacked by mutant termites."

"Whatever." Igzarion did not have the strength to reply, and even if he had, he wouldn't have said anything- neither of them had spoken since they had seen Ascion's death.

Surprisingly enough, Arklanser's usually emotionless face seemed to be slightly sympathetic. "You had another episode with Taiga, didn't you?"

Igzarion's mouth opened briefly before it closed. "How'd you figure tha' out?" he muttered, in a darkly sarcastic tone that was even starker than his usual voice- if that was possible.

"Well, I couldn't think of any other reason you might want to decorate the kitchen floor with your lunch and then take a head trip through the halls of the Elaesian headquarters at night." Arklanser replied matter-of-factly, with a completely straight face. "Of course, who am I to judge? You are the legendary Traphes Igzarion, after all. I'm sure you have perfectly legitimate motives in taking midnight strolls around the place."

Igzarion blinked twice before he raked his knuckles across his forehead. "You're awfully sheerful tonight." he muttered, under his breath.

"I can be cheerful whenever I want to be, Iggy." Arklanser snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

For the second time, Igzarion opened his mouth and stopped short of saying what was on his mind, although from the look on his face, the rangeress could tell exactly what he was thinking. With an indignant look, she shot him an angry glare and roared, "Traphes, I _didn't _sleep with him!"

Despite his inebriated state, a faint look of amusement crossed the dark-haired ranger's face. "While tha' would be 'n interesting- and somewhat disturbing- thought for me ta' sleep on, Delinia, I don't have _that _much of an interest in your pershonal affairs."

"Well, what _were _you going to ask?" she wondered, a faint bit of surprise in her tone.

As she saw Igzarion's eyes flicker towards her, she knew what he was going to say. Frantically, she tried to twist away from him, but he seized her wrist and pinched a finger on her left hand- the one with Luke Sinclaire's ring on it.

She waited for him to drop the bomb, but it never came. He merely held her hand up to the dim light of the sconce and examined the ring minutely, as though he were appraising its value. Finally, he loosened his vice-like grip on her hand; as she pulled away, she could see red marks where his fingers had pressed into her wrist.

"I never thought you had it in you, Delinia." he whispered, the faint, drunken smile still on his face. Arklanser felt a cold flush shoot up her cheeks as his gaze met hers- his eyes were somewhat glazed over, a silvery sheen covering his usually dark pupils.

"What do you care?" she found herself yelping. "We're not children anymore, and I can do whatever I want! Why is it any of your business?!"

She realized suddenly how harsh she sounded- here she was, shouting at her childhood friend over something that he had every right to know, and she wasn't even the one who was drunk. Collecting herself, she whispered, "Traphes, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Igzarion held up a wavering hand. "I'm…really happy for you."

Perhaps it was just because of the alcohol, but she could have sworn she heard a faint trace of what sounded like regret in his voice. She didn't want to pursue the issue in his current condition, though, and chances were he would forget the whole thing tomorrow morning.

The two Devil Children stared at each other silently for some time, until Igzarion broke the awkward silence. "It's nice to see…you can smile again." he whispered, an uncharacteristically gentle look on his face. "I nev'r thought tha' anything could get ya to show emotion, not after the experience you had with tha' crystal…"

"Things have changed, Iggy." Arklanser replied, in an inconsequential tone. "I guess I'm just one of them."

Igzarion's eyes flickered upwards before they came back down. "Yes, they have." he murmured softly, before his hands came to rest at his sides once more. He seemed to be playing with a thought inside of his mind, as though there was something he wanted to say, but for whatever reason, couldn't.

"Why?" he whispered, his distilled voice floating through the air and sliding into her ears. His voice forcibly reminded her of the episode when she'd asked Sinclaire to get engaged in the first place.

"What are you talking about?" she answered, feigning innocence.

"Why did'cha have to-" Without finishing his sentence, he limply waved a hand at the piece of jewelry shining on her finger. "Do ya' even realize what you're doing?" he muttered, throwing his hands into the air. "This ish a commitment, a sherious one, and you just-"

His voice disintegrated into unintelligible muttering, and he finally became quiet only after some time. Sighing, Arklanser reached up and ran her fingers through her long, crimson hair.

"Traphes…please." she whispered, her voice gentler than it had ever been towards him. "I have my reasons for wanting to get married. I'm twenty-six years old. Is there any reason I shouldn't be finding somebody I love?"

"It'sh shtill something I don't think you're ready ta' take care of, Delinia." Igzarion slurred, his voice belaying his reasoning. "We're in the middle of a war, a freakin' big war with Gault, and of all times, you decide ta' get hitched now?"

"Exactly!" Arklanser threw her patience to the wind as she stared into Igzarion's eyes. "You know that when the final crystallization process occurs, I'll…I'll die! I don't have much longer to live, Traphes! I want to make the most of the time I have left!"

Igzarion seemed to freeze, as though Arklanser had punched him in the gut. "Of- of course." he murmured quietly. "I should'a known. Forgive me. It's- it'sh just that-"

He held off from completing his sentence, his words dangling on the tip of his tongue. Once more, Arklanser took a step backwards and forced herself to calm down- she remembered, after all, that she was talking to a person who had a life-threatening demon sealed in his body.

"It's all right." she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Igzarion grimly raked a hand across his forehead. "It'sh a lot better now. _Goddessh…" _He let his breath out in a hiss as Arklanser silently watched. "I shwear, it's never been this harsh before. I think I almost threw up a lung."

He gave another mirthless smile as he rubbed at his eyes, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "It's…It'sh just a little sudden, ya know? I mean, I'll start having to call you Mrs. Sinclaire or sa'thing completely retarded like that…"

His stark attempts at humor were pathetic, but Arklanser forced herself to laugh out of pity. Seeing Igzarion drunk wasn't something new to her, but being with him like this, seeing him smile, however weakly…it was as if she was with a whole different person.

His next remark caught her off-guard.

"I don't have that much longer to live either." he mused faintly, flicking his fingers through the air as though swatting an invisible fly.

"What- what are you talking about?" Arklanser stared at him for a moment. "You're- Come on, Iggy. It's just a bad episode. You'll get better after some rest-"

"Athena said I wouldn't live ta' be 30." he whispered, hollowly. "I've barely got a little more than shix years by that logic, wouldn't you say?" There was a kind of dark humor in his tone, as if he were secretly enjoying the prospect of his own demise.

"Don't say that!" Arklanser grabbed Igzarion's arm and tried to meet his eyes, but his dark, silvery pupils continually slid out of focus, as if he were dreaming. "You won't die, Iggy. You've- you've got Natalia to take care of you-"

"Ah, right. Natalia." He pronounced the name softly, wistfully. "Yeah, I owe her so much…she r'lly cared for me." He seemed to let her name hover in the air for a moment before he closed his eyes. "But…I've always thought of her as a sister, you know? It'd be nice to have somebody who, you know, could…"

To her shock and amazement, his knees buckled under him, and he toppled face-first into her arms. It took all her strength to support his figure as his head lolled on her shoulders, his breath smelling heavily of alcohol, and she realized he was no longer trying to support himself, putting himself completely at her mercy.

"Traphes…" she whispered, slowly, as his dark hair tickled her cheeks.

"I've always shought…you were very beautiful." he whispered, his voice so soft that she could barely hear.

She froze, not quite believing what she was hearing. Could Igzarion actually-

"But…it doesn't matter anymore." he whispered, staring into her eyes. "At least you're going to be happy from now on, and that's all that matters."

He stared up at her for a second longer before he pulled away from her and clenched his fist, and the next thing she knew, he was clutching a knife in his hand, its blade an iridescent dark-crimson, its hilt blacker than the night. Before she could realize what was going on, he tore apart the last few buttons of his shirt, exposing the bluish-purple orb in his lower abdomen, its core swirling with demonic magic.

"Stupid…_stupid…__**piece of sh-…!" **_he bellowed furiously, the knife flashing through the air with a quiet purr as it headed towards his stomach.

Arklanser heard someone scream and realized it was her own voice as she lunged towards Igzarion, knocking the blade out of his hand as she pinned him to the wall. Red rivulets of fluid ran down their arms and she realized the blade had cut both their hands.

"Don't _ever _do that again!" she hissed, her voice mingled with shock, fury, and disbelief as tears began to form in the corner of her eyes. "You never had to do that!"

"What…other choice…do a' have…Delinia?" he muttered weakly, despair soaking through his voice. "I can't take care'f anyone…not even myself…" His eyes shimmered up at her. "Why…did'ja…save…"

"I'm your _friend!" _she half-screamed, half-sobbed at him, as his eyes wearily closed from exhaustion.

She let go of him, and he toppled to the floor, his eyes closed as his head hit the ground with a dull thud. He had passed out.

She bent over him and touched a finger to the side of his neck and felt herself relax when she felt a pulse. What worried her more than anything, however, were the words he had just spoken. The demon was definitely affecting him more than she had ever seen him- as crazy as he might have been, he had never had suicidal thoughts in the time she had known him.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. He had just been very drunk and ended up accidentally letting some of his deepest thoughts slip. There wasn't a good chance he would remember any of this in the morning, she firmly told herself, as blood continued to sheet down her arm.

….would he?

She pulled his unconscious body up against hers, letting him lean on her shoulders for support, and began to drag him towards Natalia Arundale's room.

-----

The call of the transport carrier's horn sounded through the halls of Orbis Station as the ship docked calmly to the gate, its starboard bathed in dim moonlight.

A single figure slowly emerged from the deck, leaping towards the ground as the sound of armor clanking echoed across the station's halls. The outline of a large axe could be seen slung across his back before he disappeared through the gates of the station and entered the city of Orbis.

Ark Wolfen raised his head and saw the burning outline of the blood-red sun rising through the sky and parting the boiling clouds with an orange aura. He must have skipped a few hours while traveling between continents, he thought, as light began to replace dark above his head.

His sleep-deprived eyes listlessly falling upon the shady dawn-kissed outline of Orbis Tower in the background, Ark suddenly was aware in the back of his mind that he didn't have any scrolls to activate the teleportation crystal that hovered in the tower's depths- and after going over half a day without rest or food, descending twenty flights of stairs was not a task he looked particularly forward to.

He cast another desperate glance at the sun and remembered what he'd promised himself. He wasn't going to give up Ascion's memory just because of a few flights of crummy stairs, that was for sure. Briefly, he wiped his forehead and slapped himself lightly on the cheek to awaken himself before reluctantly walking towards Orbis Tower.

The last time he'd ever set foot inside this place had been the time that he, Zeraion, and Ascion had been traveling to El Nath to receive their final tests as proof that they were worthy to receive the 3rd-job advancement. He remembered the snow, the strenuous climb, and the familiar rush of power that he had experienced knowing he was finally a Crusader.

That was so long ago, but the feelings still remained, stained bittersweet from the pain of losing a loved one, and he forced himself to solder on as Sentinels whizzed over his head, determined on reducing him to ashes. However, the monsters were so weak that he merely contented himself with using Power Guard to lessen the damage. On more than one occasion, he simply let the stone-clad guards' lasers strike him, the bolts of magical energy serving to help him stay awake and keep his mission in mind, as he clutched Seles' three-word note in his pocket.

The steps and ropes he had to climb and descend gradually blended into one another as his feet thudded against the stone ledges of the tower, his axe bouncing less-than-lightly against his back and sending recoil up his nerves with every step. Once in a while, he would take a moment to gaze out a window and be rewarded with a mind-numbing gust of cold wind in his face.

The stone Sentinels and floors quickly gave way to fuzzy Leatties and icy ledges as Ark descended, making his way to the base of the tower. On more than one occasion, he nearly slipped off a ledge due to carelessness and exhaustion, and actually did find himself hanging off a rope several yards off the ground due to a bad encounter with the icy floor.

It was quite some time before Ark- bruises, frostbite, and all- pushed his way out of the first floor of Orbis Tower and into the cold snowfields of El Nath. Ignoring the crowds Leatties and Jr. Pepes that nipped at his ankles, Ark marched onwards to the city. It was beginning to snow, and white flakes began to fly into his eyes as the rising sun lit up gray storm clouds above his head.

Some time later- he could not tell whether it was ten minutes or ten hours- he found himself climbing the tall rope that let up to the residence where the four instructors known to the world as Tylus, Rene, Robeira, and Arec resided. The piece of parchment in his pocket trembled as he pulled himself painstakingly up the side of the cliff, careful not to fall.

He finally stumbled (he'd banged his knee against the edge of the cliff while climbing up) past the door and into the warm, inviting house, where a fire crackled merrily in the altar. All four looked up with surprise at him- it was apparent they had not been expecting visitors at such an early hour.

The tallest of the four, Tylus, stood up, his massive sword draped across his back. "Who are you?" his voice boomed, though not unkindly.

Ark began to open his mouth to introduce himself, but he was silenced by a cry of recognition from Robeira, the mage. "It's Rafael Wolfen's son! I would know that face anywhere! Aren't you Ascion's brother?"

Ark felt a lump rise to his throat as he heard Ascion's name and couldn't speak for some time. Mistaking his silence for pain, Robeira pressed her hand against him and murmured, "Heal." He felt the bruises and frostbite he'd accumulated all over his body recede, although the emotional ache still lingered.

It was some time before he managed to speak, the words coming from his mouth as though they were spoken by someone else. "Ascion's…dead." he whispered, hollowly. The pain of having to repeat that phrase was almost as great as hearing it the first time.

Both Robeira and Rene gasped, and Tylus looked somewhat revolted. Only Arec remained unmoved, silently examining a dagger in the firelight. "How…did it happen?" Rene finally asked, at length.

"He was killed in a battle near Ellinia." Ark muttered, his voice barely audible as his throat felt dry. "I…Keiga Seles sent me here. He wanted me to give this to you." he said, drawing the note from his pocket and presenting it to Tylus.

The warrior instructor took the scroll and unbound it, his eyes briefly flitting across the paper as he read Seles' note. Ark could see Tylus' brow wrinkling in thought as he considered the seemingly simple message. After some length of time, he folded the paper and flicked it into the fireplace, where it immediately ignited and was reduced to ashes in seconds.

"Do you know what Seles wrote on that paper?" Tylus asked, his eyes riveted on the axeman.

"Yes. He wrote 'It is time'. I have no idea what he meant, though." Ark said, truthfully.

"Keiga Seles' name is legendary in these haunts." Tylus finally said, after some thought. "If he sent you here to do justice for your brother, he must have had good reason, and I trust he has not over or underestimated your abilities. After all, you are Rafael and Avelyn's son." His eyes seemed to glimmer before he spoke. "What Seles was referring to when he wrote that note was your mother's will."

"My mother had a will?" Ark repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes. Avelyn Blade wrote her last will approximately two months prior to her death, witnessed by Keiga Seles, her best friend since childhood. I believe she had doubts whether she would survive her pregnancy, and consigned it just in case." Tylus sighed regretfully. "Sadly, as fate would have it, she did not survive."

"What did her will entail?" Ark asked, a firm determination in his voice.

"From her training excursions in the Wolf Territory with her companions, she amassed a small fortune in cash, tradable goods, and rare equipment." Tylus said, his voice calm and level. "She instructed that half of it be left to her husband, Rafael, and the remainder evenly distributed between you, Zeraion, and her unborn child."

"How much does that amount to?" Ark asked curiously.

"After liquidation of the items at current market value, as well as sixteen years' compound interest, she left Rafael approximately 15,000,000 mesos in cash, which means she left you, Zeraion, and Ascion about 5,000,000 each." Tylus continued, in the same calm tone.

Ark felt a weight drop in his chest. His mother had raised _thirty million mesos _in the last couple years of her life? He hadn't realized before how much she had sacrificed for them, and the thought left an ache in his heart.

"As things stand, coincidentally, Rafael's will also involved distributing his assets evenly amongst his sons," Tylus continued, without blinking, "so when you come of age next year, when you are twenty-one, you will be eligible to receive one-third of both your father and mother's money, which amounts to about 12,500,000 mesos, plus interest."

Ark did not speak. The news of this personal windfall was enough to render anyone speechless.

Seeing Ark unable to articulate speech at the moment, Tylus continued. "There is, however, a codicil that Avelyn left in her last wishes." Seeing Ark's puzzled expression, he clarified. "A codicil is a small instruction left at the end of one's will, and in your mother's case, it concerned her eldest son; in other words, you."

Ark's eyes flew open with sudden surprise. What else could his mother have in store for him aside from an untold fortune in cash?

"This part of her will was strictly oral, so it is not written on the original document." Tylus said, drawing a weathered piece of parchment from the depths of his desk. He handed it to Ark, who upon examining it in turn could see his mother's signature, as well as Seles', on the paper. His eyes slowly rested upon his mother's last handwriting- beautiful and immaculate, just like the rest of her, before he tore his gaze away from the paper and let his eyes drift upwards.

"As I was informed, however, she told Keiga Seles before her death that she would like to be buried in the Snowfield, near the sacred crystal, with some of her personal treasures. She left explicit instructions to Seles that when the time should arise, you should visit her and retrieve what is now legally yours." He exhaled and gestured to the ashes of the paper, lying in the bottom of the fire. "And as the Dark Knight has said, it is time for you to visit her."

"Yes, I will." Ark nodded his thanks and bowed to Tylus. "I'll go see her at once."

"Wait." Rene's voice cut through the air. "It's snowing outside and the monsters are most active in the early hours of the day. You should rest here first."

Ark's eyes briefly rested on Rene. "My mother trained every day for the last two years of her life in the snow fighting bloodthirsty werewolves, and that didn't stop her." he said, firmly.

Rene nodded, as if she understood, and did not bother to pursue the offer further.

-----

The snow whirled into Ark's face as he staggered up the mountains of El Nath, keeping his eyes on the hungry Hectors and White Pangs that hungrily eyed him on the ledges below.

Exhaustion and frostbite had dampened his condition, but that didn't stop him. Nothing could, as he pulled himself up the slender ropes that the mountain had been adorned with. His desire to see what his mother's last legacy was for him blotted out everything else, and he worked himself up the ledge, resting his feet on the soft snow-covered ground at last.

A Yeti quickly spied him and lumbered towards him, its arms raised, but he beat it to the punch, drawing his axe with a loud noise of metal against metal. A quick motion of his arms, and the white snow was suddenly streaked with crimson blood; Ark only needed a quick cry of "Power Strike!" to send it down effortlessly.

Wiping his forehead, Ark exhaled, his breath wisps of fog in the icy air, and continued on even as a few feeble rays of early morning sunshine began to poke their way through the storm clouds that had gathered over his head.

Swearing as a snowflake flew into his eye, Ark yanked himself up the rope and found himself face-to-face with a gigantic werewolf, its eyes shimmering hungrily at him as it licked its claws. A brief flash of fear jumped into his mind before it quickly faded. His mother had slain countless hordes of these for him and he wasn't about to fall before one now.

The wolf jumped first, its claws raking the air mere inches from his face. He sidestepped and lashed out with the blade of his axe, slashing a deep cut in its side. It roared menacingly and lunged at him, its bloody fangs bared for the kill.

He dived to the side as its hot, foul breath lapped at his cheek and drove the hilt of his weapon upwards, tearing a gash in the wolf's upper body. Wounded and infuriated, the lycanthrope bounded at him in a desperate lunge. As it came closer and closer, its razor-sharp claws bared, he could see the bloodlust in its eyes.

He jabbed his wrist upwards and commanded, "Angel Pyre!"

A chain of light beams exploded from the snow, skewering the wolf grotesquely as blood suddenly decorated a wide area of the ground, the beast's mutilated corpse dropping to the ground. Catching his breath, Ark raked his knuckles across his forehead as the exhilaration of the arte coursed through his veins. He had inherited most of his warrior attributes from his mother, but his father's blood allowed him the limited use of holy spells as well, which had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Gazing up into the snowdrifts that decorated the ground, Ark grit his teeth and stepped over the animal's large cadaver, hoisting himself up another rope and straining to keep his feet balanced as he climbed up the cliff. If the rope broke or his hands slipped, he would be done for- and that would be all too likely in his current state.

Luckily, he could see that there weren't many more ledges before he reached the secret alcove with the great shimmering crystal. A large Yeti with a Pepe mounted on its back stood between him and the narrow passageway, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Exhaling wisps of breath in the cold air, he clenched the weathered rope in his hand tightly before pulling himself onto the ledge and confronting his enemy.

The monster attacked first, slamming its massive knuckles into the ground as a sudden explosion-like noise rocked the area. Instinctively, Ark leapt out of the way as a gigantic wave of icy slag tore through the air where he'd been standing seconds ago, and quickly spun on the heel of his greaves upon landing, his axe raised. "Sovereign Gale!"

The wind spiraled briefly about the head of his weapon before it coalesced into a series of pressurized blades, hurtling towards the Pepe and its mount. With a loud squawk, the incoming bursts of air blew the Pepe off its seat as it crashed into the side of a nearby cliff. Smiling humorlessly, Ark carefully gauged the distance and hurled his axe into the sky with a loud roar, before charging forward at the surprised Yeti. "Impact Hammer!"

He felt energy flow into him as he spun on his heel and launched into a savage spin kick, sending the large Yeti skidding backwards several yards across the ground- just as the axe completed its descent towards the earth, blade-first. There was a revolting noise as the ground became luridly splattered with red; wrinkling his nose slightly, Ark retrieved his bloodied weapon and briefly cleaned it against the snowy side of a rock before stomping into the entrance leading to the great crystal.

His hair fluttered past his cheeks as he entered. Despite the rather snowy weather outside, the inside of the small valley was rather calm, only a light smattering of snow falling from the sky as large evergreen trees decorated the landscape. The large crystal glimmered in the middle of the clearing as he walked towards it.

The early morning sunset was beginning to show now, the sky's deep red-orange fading into a lighter shade of dawn as sunlight peeked from behind the clouds, throwing a gentle shine over the crystal. Ark's footsteps melted into the snow as he stood in front of the large monolith, his eyes weakly blinking as the brilliant glare off the stone cut into his eyes.

His fingers reached out and briefly glossed over the ancient runes carved into the surface of the stone. The intricately wrought designs made no sense to him, but he remembered with a sudden jolt that Ascion could read them.

Ark sighed deeply, the time for tears long past. His little brother had grown from the crying infant in his mother's arms to one of the most brilliant magicians the world had ever known. He suddenly felt as though there was so much he should have asked Ascion before he'd left. The ache in his heart briefly returned with a vengeance and it was a while before he could look up again.

Remembering what Tylus and Seles had told him, Ark's eyes flitted about the snowy land looking for anything that could be a sign of where his mother was buried, but there was none. He muttered something under his breath and ran his fingers across his forehead as he fervently racked his brains for anything that could help him.

After staring at his surroundings for what seemed like an eternity and still finding nothing useful, Ark settled for muttering obscenities under his breath while striding around the perimeter of the area, his hair angrily flying into his eyes every so often. It would be a cruel joke if he traveled all the way to this place and ended up finding nothing.

Out of desperation, he slammed his palm into the side of the ice-encrusted rock face of the mountain.

The effect was instantaneous; he suddenly felt a large surge of energy run through him, as though he had been struck by lightning. Oddly enough, there was no pain. As he reeled from the sensation, his fingers still touching the icy surface, he felt heat near his chest and realized his pendant- the one Ascion had given him- was glowing, casting a warm amethyst glow over his body and the ice.

He didn't know why, but something in the back of his head told him it was the right thing to do, so he cradled the jeweled locket in his hand and pressed it against the rock surface.

As soon as the surface of the gem touched the icy wall, the warmth increased, spreading from his heart to the top of his head and the tips of his toes. He could see light spilling from the inside of the jewel as it- impossibly- seemed to melt into the surface of the cliffside, as though it were passing through nothing except air.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear a clicking noise, like that of something being unlocked, and the locket suddenly fell back and dangled idly against his front once more. He stared at the icy surface of the cliff once more and timidly reached his hand out.

This time, his hand did not stop at the ice, but passed through the surface as the pendant had done. He gasped as his fingers passed through the seemingly impenetrable ice, realizing that this was an illusion. His mother was here, entombed in the side of the great cliff as per her last wishes.

He found the courage to slide his arm deeper into the crevice, his hand cautiously feeling through the ice until his fingers hit something small, compact, and hard- a small box of some sort. Instinctively knowing this was what he was seeking, he closed his fingers around the small capsule-like object and drew it out of the cliffside. When his fingers slid out of the illusionary wall, he could see that the box he held was small but elegantly decorated, gold trim lining the smooth black box. He could see that it had two hinge locks on it, each set with a gemstone; one a brilliant crimson, the other a deep blue.

He carefully undid the locks and opened the box, wondering what he'd find inside. His question was answered when he saw a small piece of folded paper tucked neatly in the small confines of the container. Drawing it out and unfolding it, the paper was still in reasonably good shape, despite being somewhat yellowed from oxidation.

The first thing he noticed was the neat date scribbled near the top of the page; February 4, 2192- exactly two months before Ascion's birth. His eyes quickly scanning the rest of the page, Ark could see that the letter was written in a neat, elegant script identical to that he'd seen in his mother's will.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes returned to the top of the page and began to read in earnest.

_February 4, AB 2192_

_My dearest Arklen-_

_If you should ever set eyes upon this letter, it means that I am no longer upon this earth. Please accept my most heartfelt apologies for not being strong enough to survive for you, Ark. I would have enjoyed nothing more than to stay with you, your father, and your brothers for a little while longer, but fate has a cruel way of trapping those in its web. _

_Please don't cry for me, and know that I'll see you again someday, my beloved son. _

As he read the letter, he could almost hear her voice in his ears, so kind, gentle, and caring, as if she were standing behind him and reading every word to him as she had sixteen years ago.

_I've entrusted the welfare of this letter to a dear companion and friend of mine, Keiga Seles. I intended for him to be your teacher since your birth; it was obvious that you were destined to be a warrior. I also took the liberty of confiding the details of my last wishes to him and instructed him to disclose its contents to you when he felt you were ready._

_I never wanted you or your brothers to suffer, Ark. When I met your father, he was both brilliant yet impoverished. He was a magical prodigy from the lower classes of Ellinia, and I was the headstrong daughter of a well-known crusader in Perion. I met him many years ago, and I fell in love with him against my family's wishes. We both decided to elope to Henesys given the low cost of living and the friendly environment, and that was when I became pregnant with you._

_During the months before I wrote this letter, I trained with an almost maniacal air so I could raise enough money for when your third brother would be born. I couldn't stand the thought of you, Zeraion, and my unborn son having to suffer because of our relative poverty, so I fought hard every day to make a little pittance selling werewolf claws on the market._

Ark couldn't help giving a sad, soft chuckle when he read this sentence. Twelve and a half million mesos was a small pittance, indeed.

_Sometimes, I regret it. I've been weakened by the constant hours, despite Seles' encouragement and help. Perhaps if I'd stopped, I might still be by your side instead of you having to read this infernal piece of paper, but when I wrote these words, I had no second thoughts. I could relax knowing you could someday enjoy your life a little bit better because of me. When you come of age, you will become eligible to receive the money, which will be about 4-5 million mesos, depending on interest rates._

_But that isn't the purpose of my letter here. This note was intended for you and only you, Ark, and I had hoped that the time would never come that you would have to read it, but sometimes fate deals us a poor hand in the game of life. As my eldest son, it's time for you to receive the greatest treasure I ever owned, a treasure that now legally belongs to you upon your reading of this letter._

_I married your father when I was barely twenty years old. When he proposed to me, I was shocked more than anything, but also deeply happy. I don't think you'll ever realize what love is from a woman's point of view, Ark, but I want to tell you that it is beautiful- the most beautiful sensation you can ever experience in your life, and I hope that someday you'll be able to find someone who can make you as happy as I was with your father that day when he held my hands and asked me to be his beloved forever._

_Enclosed along with his letter is this treasure I've promised you: my wedding ring. Your father had it made specially for us by one of the finest jewelers in Orbis, and it cost him practically everything he owned save the clothes on his back. He had it set with two stones, a ruby and a sapphire. Those also happen to be our birthstones, for July and August. _

_I want you to take it, because it belongs to you now. It has a special enchantment set over it that your father and I created soon after we got married, and I hope my gift will serve you well in the years to come. Please take good care of it, as though it was one of your brothers._

_I still remember how cute and innocent you were when I held you in my lap today, Ark. I know that years from now, you'll be reading this letter and those halcyon days will be long gone, but you'll always be my son, and I want you to know I love you._

_-Avelyn Gaelia Blade_

Ark silently stared at the letter in his hand, contemplating his mother's signature as though it was the last time he would ever see it. Then he carefully folded the paper up and tucked it into the hidden pocket of his cuirass where his father's letter also rested.

He turned his attention back to the box and examined it closely, and sure enough, just like Avelyn had said, there in the center of the box rested a beautiful ring, previously hidden by the letter on top of it. He took it out of its container and held it up to the light, flashes of red and blue sparkling in his eyes. The ruby seemed to be flawlessly carved in the shape of a rose, the crescent-shaped sapphire curled around it. He wondered briefly in the back of his mind just exactly _how _much this had cost.

After some careful thought, he gently slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand and closed the box, returning it to its place behind the cliff. Then, he slowly turned away from his mother's grave and walked out of the cavern.

-----

Meanwhile, the sky's flame-red dawn had gradually given way to a lighter sunrise, light parting the clouds and blanketing the winter city of El Nath. The snowstorm that had appeared earlier had stopped, and the town was peacefully covered with a cold, shimmering blanket of white.

Aslan Seles, Ryden Dracon, and Lisande Isalden stepped through the large gates of the city into the sunlight reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. All three looked extremely exhausted, as if they had just run several miles.

"Next time…Wolfen…runs away…I'll kill him." Marron muttered mutinously, rumpling his hair and nursing his cheek where a Pepe had thrown a fish at him.

"Look who's talking." Ryden replied smoothly, causing the Paladin's face to turn mottled red. "Now, who do you think he might want to see in El Nath?"

"Anyone." Marron gave a listless shrug. "We should just stay in the town square and wait for him to come out of a nearby building."

"He might've left already." Ryden's voice was stark. "We'll go up the cliff and ask the third-job instructors. Maybe they've seen him."

"What makes you so sure he went there?" Marron muttered grumpily as he seized one of the long ropes that were tethered to the side of the cliff.

"What makes you so sure he didn't?" Ryden fired back, hoisting himself up the side of the large hill.

Moments later, all three swordsmen found themselves standing in the comfortable residence of the third-job instructors. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, spreading its warmth through the room. Ryden felt four pairs of eyes pressed interestedly upon him and his companions and forced himself to stay calm. There was an uneasy moment of silence before someone- Tylus- spoke. "What is it that brings you here, son of Dracon?"

Ryden cleared his throat and asked, "Have you seen a crusader by the name of Ark Wolfen pass through El Nath recently?"

The four instructors exchanged brief looks of surprise before Tylus responded, "Yes. He was here some time ago."

Flashing a smile at the stark-faced Marron and Lisande from behind, Ryden asked, "Well, where is he?"

Tylus carefully examined the desk in front of him. "He has gone into the mountains of the Snowfield on a personal matter."

Ryden's smile faded a little. "What kind of personal matter?"

"He has gone to visit his mother's grave." Tylus said, somewhat gently.

A look of understanding passed over the latter's face. "I…see." he murmured slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. "Thank you very much."

Before either Marron or Lisande could say anything, Ryden turned his back on the two and walked out of the door, perching himself on the edge of the cliff in thought. He heard the door close behind him and watched as Marron and Lisande sat on either side of him, their legs hanging over the edge of the cliff.

"D'you think this had something to do with Seles?" Marron asked, wiping something from his nose.

"Probably." Ryden's eyes stared steadfastly across the horizon. "I wouldn't put anything past Seles at this point."

"He hasn't come back, though." Lisande's voice interrupted the silence. "Do you think we should look for him?"

"No." Ryden did not blink. "Seles was right. We need to leave him alone for now. We'll wait at the city's east gate for him."

That was the last thing he said before a sudden fireball ripped through the sky and smashed into the cliff beneath them.

The impact pulverized the ledge they were sitting on, causing the ground to crumble underneath them. Ryden had a moment's warning before the ice he was sitting on turned to dust and snow, and then suddenly, he was falling, as the ground became closer and closer by the second.

Despite the fact that he was falling to his certain death, he retained his senses and unsheathed his sword in midair, stabbing it into the side of the cliff. The blade crushed through the icy cliffside and lodged into the frozen surface like an ice pick. Ryden immediately felt his wrist being pulled apart from the strain as he dangled about a hundred feet above the ground, but at least he was alive.

There was no sign of either Marron or Lisande, and Ryden had to close his eyes as a gust of icy powder blew into his face. When his vision cleared, he could see above him that the Paladin had done more or less the same thing as he had done, the blade of his Heaven's Gate buried deeply into the icy stone. Underneath him, Lisande was clenching ahold of the handle of her own sword for dear life.

"Are you guys all right?!" Ryden shouted, the muscles in his arm throbbing as he struggled to keep his grip on his blade.

"Just peachy!" Marron yelled back, several yards above him. "What the hell just happened?!"

"We've been ambushed!" Lisande shrieked, and true to her word, several Crimson Balrogs had surrounded them, their eyes hungrily eyeing the three warriors in preparation for the bloodshed that was to come.

_Shit. _Ryden cautiously eyed the Balrogs, and he knew instantly who had sent them and why they were there. He gauged his options- quite frankly, he didn't have many, and their chances of being able to survive any longer were virtually zero if they continued to hang like this.

Clenching his fist about the handle of his sword, he bellowed, "Alastor!"

There was a noise like a cannon going off as Ryden suddenly seemed to explode in a brilliant burst of dark energy, his body dropping to the ground below as he fell off the cliff. Lisande screamed as she saw him fall- only to be silenced when he suddenly skyrocketed into the air moments before impact, the shimmering blade of a gigantic sword clutched in his hand as gigantic wings of shimmering shadow covered his back.

The son of Dracon had unleashed his full power.

Without pausing, Ryden shot upwards, his blade cutting an iridescent trail of lightning through the sky, and roared, _"Devil Trigger Explosion!" _A gigantic ball of dark lightning coalesced amidst the Balrogs for a split second before it exploded, rendering the demons into unrecognizable charred bits. Swiftly, Ryden whipped around in midair and grabbed ahold of Marron's hand, who in turn grabbed Lisande's as they sped downward. In his current state, the two swordsmen weighed next to nothing as he descended towards the ground.

Ryden landed gently upon the ground, his wings quickly folding into his back as the dark aura around his body was dispelled. He then turned to see Marron's ashen face and Lisande's astonished expression.

"Now we're even for you kicking my butt in that duel we had some time back." Ryden muttered quietly, as he continued to eye the shell-shocked Paladin.

"_Congratulations, son of Dracon." _The voice was cold and cruel, and Ryden spun around to realize that he was staring up into the face of an exceptionally large (and ugly) Balrog, its crimson eyes resting on him as its arms remained folded across its chest and a gigantic lance of ice-blue resembling Seles' Fairfrozen, though larger, draped across its back. _"I applaud you for that bit of quick thinking."_

The Balrog then turned its gaze to the stunned Paladin, his sword hanging limply in his hand. "_We meet again, Aslan."_

-----

Balthazar Gazhevrog calmly eyed the two humans and one elf that were standing in front of him, their swords drawn as they stared up at him with astonished expressions. Never mind the fact that the son of Dracon had completely annihilated the advance guard that had accompanied him. He would get his recompense soon enough.

He saw Aslan's facial expression gradually fade into a determined look of fury. "You." he snarled, holding his blade aloft. "You were the one who infiltrated Elaesia and blew up half the place."

"_That is quite correct." _Balthazar remained stoically standing. "_I have come to finish what we started on that day."_

"I defeated you once and I won't hesitate to do it again." Aslan snarled, refusing to back down. Behind him, the son of Dracon unsheathed his blade and prepared to charge.

"Stop." The Paladin held up a hand. "Ryden, take Lady Lisande and go. I can't risk you-"

"Like hell I'll leave you here by yourself!" Ryden shouted, his fingers clenched around his sword. Behind him, Lisande had a determined expression that also showed she was not apt to flee anytime soon.

"_Admirable sentiments, Aslan." _Balthazar gave a cold laugh. _"Fortunately for your friends, I seek no quarrel with them. My lord has instructed me to deal with only you, the son of Keiga Seles."_

"If you want Dariel, you'll have to get through me first!" Ryden roared, his blade raised.

"_You are quite troublesome, son of Dracon." _Balthazar sighed in almost bored annoyance. "_Algorstorm!" _A gigantic chunk of ice suddenly ripped from the ground and hurled itself at Ryden; he shouted "Just Guard!" in response, holding his blade aloft. The attack sent him skidding backwards but did not leave a scratch.

"Leave them out of this." Marron snarled, in an unusually cold tone. "I'll face you off. Then I'll kick your big, ugly ass all the way to Meteon E'traia, and the same goes for whoever you're working for."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow in contempt. Enough of this crap; he was going to destroy the fleshling. "_So be it!" _he roared, drawing the spear from behind him in one fluid motion. _"Prepare yourself! Blizzard Lance!"_

The Balrog and spear charged forward in one great motion, sending a great cloud of snow into the air as he plunged the lance into the ground where Marron had been standing just moments ago. He dove out of the way as several gigantic shards of ice erupted from the ground from point of impact, cold wind streaking his face. Unhindered, Balthazar whipped around in a swift motion and bellowed, _"Frigid Grave!"_

In response, Marron quickly drew his large sword and commanded, "Inferno Charge!" He felt energy rush from his hands into his weapon as the blade grew red-hot; sidestepping the deadly spikes of ice that ripped forth from the ground, the heated edge carved through them effortlessly before he lunged towards the Balrog. "Spiral Strike!"

Balthazar brought his spear forward to guard against the incoming attack, a cloud of flame exploding when the weapons made contact. Quickly, Marron turned on his heel and lashed out in a kick to the demon's midriff, which the Balrog neatly blocked with the hilt of the lance.

"_Perish, Aslan." _Balthazar whispered before he raised his spear. "_Blizzard-"_

"Inferno!" Lisande roared from several yards away, and there was a great hissing noise as a bolt of silvery-white flame erupted from her bow and sped across the ground, melting the snow before it collided with the Balrog's side. Balthazar narrowed his eyes and prepared to charge towards Lisande, but he was interrupted by a cry from Ryden, who commanded, "Helm Breaker!"

There was a sickening crunch as the edge of Ryden's now-transformed sword crashed through the Balrog's shoulder guard, leaving an oozing wound in the armor. Furious, Balthazar spun around and aimed a stab at the silver-haired swordsman, who rolled across the ground to dodge the strike. He suddenly saw Marron charging towards him, his sword raised. "Dragon Fury!"

Enchanted flames leaping off the sword's edge, Aslan slammed the sword into the Balrog's back, leaving a lurid slash mark across the demon's armor as the scent of burning flesh rose into the air. The Balrog whirled around and dealt the Paladin an unexpected uppercut with the spear, tearing his chain mail and sending him flying backwards.

"_Dragon Spear!" _Balthazar bellowed, lunging forward with the lance and sending an icy bolt of energy at Marron. It hit him in midair and sent him corkscrewing through the air before he crashed into the ground, blood seeping from his mouth. Angrily, Ryden charged forward, cobalt-blue electricity leaping from his blade as he raised it. "Dance Macabre!"

There were a series of cracks as Ryden launched into a series of alternating kicks and slashes, his attacks flowing into each other and making it difficult for the Balrog to guard them in succession. The demon angrily raised a claw and commanded, "_Icy Hellpike!" _as a score of frigid spears exploded forth from the ground towards Ryden, who was forced to divert his attention to cleave apart the icy spikes.

"Inferno!" Lisande called from the side, sending a burst of silver-colored flame towards Balthazar and forcing him to guard with a quick spiral motion of his spear. Angrily, the Balrog turned towards the princess and lunged, death in its eyes as it lunged.

Lisande barely had time to draw her thin knife-like sword before the Balrog slashed the air near her face, the sword almost being thrown from her hand as she blocked the blow. She twirled gracefully to the side as a spear lunge nearly took off her head, then thrust her blade upwards to deflect an incoming assault from above. Her arm felt like lead as Balthazar's blows impacted against her guard like falling meteors.

"Distortion Drive!" Ryden bellowed, as a sudden explosion of light exploded from the tip of his blade and hurtled at the Balrog, diverting its attention for a precious moment as it blocked the attack. Seeing his opportunity, Ryden charged forward and commanded, "Burst Slash!" The outline of the swordsman seemed to shimmer before he vanished, appearing behind Balthazar as deep cuts suddenly erupted across the Balrog's armor as if by magic.

"_You-" _Balthazar raised his spear and prepared to cast an ice arte at Ryden, but was interrupted by a throaty yell from Marron, who lunged at the Balrog from behind with a cry of "Spiral Strike!" Sparks flew into the air as Balthazar spun around to parry the blow, after which Marron wrenched his sword downwards and lunged up, the shining blade flashing through the air. "Sanctuary!"

There was an almighty burst of light as a blinding wave of energy ripped forth from the Paladin's sword, blasting a deep wound through the Balrog's chest. Balthazar choked and staggered, dark fluid seeping from the hole in his body and staining the snow, as he stumbled backwards. Calmly, Marron waited to see what his enemy would do now. However, he waited too long, for in the next second, there was a flash of dark purple light, and the Balrog stood there apparently unhurt.

Marron's eyes widened. _How in the Goddess' name did he do that? That must be a powerful healing arte if it can cure wounds like that… _He grit his teeth and lunged once more at the Balrog, but Balthazar calmly knocked aside Marron's sword as though it were nothing more than a willow wand. It seemed as though his strength had increased tenfold.

"Shit." The Paladin swore under his breath as Ryden lunged forth with a cry of "Stinger!", enjoying no more success than Marron had seconds ago. Lisande was about to attack, but Ryden held up a hand as signal for her to fall back. The three swordsmen cautiously circled their enemy, carefully keeping their attention yet not daring to make a move.

Strangely, the Balrog seemed not the least bit disturbed, but rather folded its arms as it calmly regarded its three assailants with a cool eye. _"You are quite persistent, I will admit." _he whispered, in a low guttural tone that made all three wince. _"It would be such a pity to kill you, when you could do so much more within our ranks. But alas…" _The Balrog gave a small and not-too-reassuring smile, its fangs glinting in the light. _"Lord Isentryx's orders were to dispose of Aslan Seles, and do that I shall."_

"You're not disposing of anyone today, you ego-inflated bastard." Ryden snarled as he lunged forward. "Stinger!" A cloud of snow flew through the air as Ryden leapt across the snow to meet the great demon, locking weapons with the Balrog as each fought to overpower the other. Seeing their opportunity, Marron and Lisande also charged forward, their blades raised, but Balthazar was nimble enough to twirl the spear in a quick motion in front of him, dispelling their blows as fast as they came. Despite the demon's large and unwieldy size, Balthazar maneuvered his weapon with a dexterity that would have rivaled Seles' himself, managing to fend off slash attacks from all three swordsmen at the same time.

Gritting his teeth, Marron spun his blade between his fingers in a crescent moon and commanded, "Holy Charge!" The Heaven's Gate shined with a iridescent white light as the Paladin's arte took effect; with an almighty roar, he shouldered the sword and commanded, "Rush!"

The blinding speed at which Marron surged forward was enough to divert the Balrog's attention for a split second, and Ryden seized his chance; without hesitation, he lunged forward, clutching the handle of his gigantic blade in both hands, and commanded "Tempest Requiem!"

There was a loud explosion-like noise as the wind reformed around Ryden's sword, sending a series of lightning-charged wind blades exploded forth from his weapon. The onslaught slammed into the Balrog at full force, sending him skidding backwards and colliding into the side of an icy cliff.

Before the Balrog had a chance to retaliate, Marron lunged forward with a second roar of "Sanctuary!", and this time, he hit his mark. The blade ripped through the Balrog's armor as light streamed forth from the warrior's sword, a massive bloodcurdling roar pulsing through the air and causing Ryden and Lisande to wince. Marron drew his sword from the Balrog's limp figure as icky black fluid gushed from the wound.

"_This isn't over, Aslan." _Balthazar whispered, in a weak yet still deadly voice. _"Someday, my lord will hunt you down, and when that happens, you won't have anyone to fight for you."_

"Maybe someday…" Marron snarled, his blade still raised. "…but not today."

Balthazar merely smiled and clenched a fist in a strange gesture. Before the Paladin could realize what was going on, the Balrog cast an arcane arte. "_Absolute!"_

There was a loud avalanche-like noise as the air around Marron exploded in a frozen storm of ice, throwing him backwards as his blade flew out of his hand and fell into the snow. He hit the ground with a hard thud and tasted blood as the Balrog towered over him, its spear raised. Ryden and Lisande were hurrying towards him, their weapons raised, but the demon would soon finish him off-

"_Angel Pyre!"_

Consecutive bursts of light ripped forth from the ground in front of Marron, skewering through the Balrog grotesquely as it prepared to strike him down. Balthazar gave another roar of pain and sunk to the ground upon his knees. It seemed that the Balrog was done for, but before anyone could strike the finishing blow he muttered something under his breath and disappeared, his great figure melting into the air.

Perhaps it just was a trick of his sleep-deprived mind, but Marron could have sworn he heard the great demon whisper, "_We'll meet again, Aslan," _before he disappeared.

He, as well as Ryden and Lisande, turned to see the tall figure of Ark Rafael Wolfen, his dark cape fluttering in the icy wind as holy magic crackled at the tips of his fingers.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, in an irreverent tone.

-----

Compared to the events that had transpired minutes ago, the ship ride back to Elaesia from Orbis Station was rather uneventful.

Neither Marron, Ryden, or Lisande pressed Ark for details about why he'd gone to visit his mother's grave. A tacit sign of acknowledgment existed between the axeman and the rest of his companions, leaving them to silently brood upon the deck of the ship as the morning sun shone upon their faces and the clouds raced past them. Once or twice, Lisande glanced at Ark as he stared silently at the sky, but their eyes never met.

"Well, _Aslan," _Ryden muttered, taking his gaze off Ark's back, "it's lucky that we were around to help save your butt; otherwise you wouldn't have lasted more than a minute."

Marron shot Ryden a contemptible look. "Shut up. I was only trying to distract him-"

"By getting your ass kicked?" Ryden muttered, somewhat dryly.

The Paladin's hand wandered to the hilt of his sword for a moment before he tore his gaze away. "I don't need your help, Ryden. I don't _ever _need your help."

For a moment, Ryden saw not Dariel Marron standing before him, but the cold, regretful figure of Aslan Seles silently staring into the abyss, brooding upon wrongs committed against him long ago.

In any case, the latter had enough sense not to bother the blonde-haired swordsman in his current state, and quietly turned towards Ark. He risked getting the same response from the axeman as he had from Marron, but he figured it was worth a try.

He touched Ark's shoulder plate. "Wolfen."

"Since when have we been on last-name terms, Dracon?" Ark answered, not taking his eyes off the sky.

Ryden closed his eyes and forced some patience down his throat. "I'm sorry. About Ascion, I mean-"

"I know." Ark sullenly remained in his current position, not moving.

"Look." Ryden rested his hands against the rail of the deck. "I know how you feel about Ascion's death, and I really am sorry. But whoever killed Ascion might have the same plans for you, and you've got to be on your guard. They could come for you at any moment, like they did Dariel-"

Ark finally turned his gaze towards Ryden, and beneath the exhausted sleep-weary expression of the crusader, he could see embers of fury dancing in the pupils of his bloodshot eyes.

"Let them try, Ryden." he said coldly.

Slightly put out by the direction the conversation was taking, Ryden settled for breaching a slightly less sensitive topic. "Where did you get the ring?" he asked, pointing to Ark's hand while trying to be as conversational as possible.

"It was my mother's." Ark replied quietly, fingering the intertwined stones on the ring. "My father bought it for her when they got married."

"It's beautiful." Ryden nodded.

Ark held the ring up to the morning light. "She said there was an enchantment on it." he muttered, letting red and blue reflect off its intricate facets. "Maybe I should try throwing myself off the nearest cliff and see if it lets me fly…"

Ryden laughed. It was humorless, but a laugh nonetheless. "Perhaps." he said, terminating the conversation as he turned away.

Twenty minutes later, with a loud roar of the ship's engines and a large cloud of dust, the carrier landed upon the hard pavement of the Elaesian airstrip.

-----

Marron left the ship first, his dark cape solemnly trailing behind him as he walked onto the hard concrete surface of the airstrip, his greaves noisily banging against the pavement. Without a word, Ryden and Lisande quickly exited as well. Only Ark remained standing on the deck for a brief moment, his eyes trailing the sunrise, before he left as well.

"Where you going?" Ryden muttered to Ark out of the corner of his mouth as he passed by.

"Home." Ark grunted as he increased his pace.

"But you don't have a-" Ryden started to say.

"I know." Ark abruptly turned to the left, his tall figure disappearing into a side street. Ryden's eyes remained pinned to him for some time before he collected his bearings and chased after Marron and Lisande towards Elaesia.

Silently, Ark let his hair fall limply over his eyes as he walked towards the armory that had once been his house. Exhaustion had deteriorated his eyesight nearly to the point where he could barely see, but he could have found his way to his parents' graves even if he had been blindfolded.

He ducked into a narrow alley to save some time and emerged into the sunlight, stars winking in front of his eyes as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. However, the first thing he saw when his vision cleared was the tall, auburn-haired figure of Keiga Seles kneeling in front of his parents' gravestone.

At the sound of the axeman's footsteps, Seles glanced upwards. "Ah, Wolfen." he said quietly, his Fairfrozen lying on the ground in his hand on the ground. "I was just paying my respects to your brother…and to Avelyn as well."

"Hm." Ark softly knelt as well, his burnt and rived armor clashing against Seles' gleaming night-colored cuirass. "I…I did as you said. I went to El Nath…"

"And?" Seles replied, not taking his eyes off Avelyn's tombstone.

"I never knew my mother had a will." Ark muttered in a low voice. "My father never talked about it."

"I doubt your father would have wanted to publicize the fact that your mother had left you a small fortune, Ark." Seles murmured. "He would have wanted you to train hard and follow in her footsteps…so to speak."

"Yeah, well…" Despite the massive amount of crying he'd already done, Ark couldn't suppress a tiny sniffle. "I'm just happy she cared for me. The money doesn't even matter anymore."

"I am glad you think that way." Seles replied, his eyes closed. "However, I do hope you will treat her wedding ring with the utmost care. It was her most precious treasure- after her children, that is."

"I will." Ark briefly glanced at the glimmering band around his finger. "She told me that it would serve me well…What does that mean?"

Seles did not reply, but merely stared knowingly at the tombstone in front of him as though it contained a hidden message. Finally, he stood and brushed dust off his armor. "I must leave now, Ark. May peace be with you, and take care of your mother's gift well." He neatly slid his Fairfrozen in the holder on his back and left as quickly as he had came.

Ark's eyes followed his exit before they flickered back to the grave. He knew that Seles knew more than he was letting on- but he might as well be speaking to a statue if he tried pressing the Dark Knight for more information.

He sighed as he kneaded the earth beneath his fingers, where his brother's ashes were buried.

There would be a time for revenge, a time for retribution later…but now he could do nothing except rest.

"I'm sorry, Ascion." he whispered as he rested his hand on the gravestone, the one he would soon have to engrave with his brother's name.

He had already experienced his share of odd happenings today when his hand had melted through the cliff in El Nath, but he had not expected the ring and the tombstone to glow a sudden blue-crimson when his hand made contact with the smooth marble.

He leapt back as though he'd been burnt, the ring suddenly growing hot upon his finger as an earthquake-like noise shook the ground. The tombstone shook in the ground as Ark's stunned eyes stared at it, before it shifted aside to reveal a hidden trap door, its surface covered with years of rust.

His breath being suppressed in his windpipe, Ark gulped and reached a nervous hand towards the large ring of the trap door. The brass handle felt cold as it made contact with his fingers and it took all his strength to break the seal that had formed from years of rust. With an almighty wrenching noise, the door cracked itself open as Ark fell backwards upon the grass.

Wincing and rubbing his bruised palms together, Ark peered down into the small chamber he'd opened in the ground. The resulting hole was just big enough to hold a small coffin, and as he closed his hands around the blocky object in the hole and painfully lifted it up from its resting spot, he could see that was exactly what it was- a treasure chest the size of a coffin.

The chest's trim had obviously been gold at one point, but years of rust had dimmed it to a garish yellow-brown color. The chest itself was made of polished hardwood, signs of erosion beginning to show on the otherwise smooth surface. He noticed something odd about the chest- there were no locks, and where there should have been a keyhole, a strange circular depression was set in the metal tab that closed the top and the bottom of the chest together. It seemed to be round, with a crescent surrounding it halfway.

_No…It can't be…_

But it was, and so he delicately removed Avelyn's ring from his finger and aligned the stone with the depression on the chest.

At first, nothing happened. Then, there was a clicking noise as the ring stuck in place, and Ark nearly had a heart attack- if having his hand melt through cliffsides was amazing, he was stunned to see the ruby and sapphire upon the ring actually detach themselves from the golden band and diffuse through the lock, seemingly as if they had gone into the chest themselves.

Then, the chest swung open.

He found himself staring into a velvet-lined case with two of the finest weapons he'd ever seen resting inside. The first object that caught his eye was a gigantic sword, its blade a hand wide and four feet long. It seemed to be made of a strange metal that was a fiery orange color, the outline of a red flame imprinted on the metal, and when he closed his hand around it, the sword's blade immediately erupted with a brilliant light. He could feel heat surging through his arm as he held the weapon, swinging it experimentally through the air and enjoying its strength. Despite its size, it weighed very little, as if he were holding a willow rod.

The second weapon resting serenely in its case was a two-handed axe, both of its curved edges razor-sharp and primed. Unlike the sword, the axe was a deep blue color, and as he lifted it in his hands, he could see that it was forged of some black-colored metal with sapphires inlaid along the handle and blades. The head was adorned with a sharp spear tip, allowing the axe to double as a polearm, and he could see elegant runes carved along the handle of the weapon. His gaze flickering back to the sword, he could see that runes of a similar nature had also been engraved on the sword's heated blade.

Totally speechless, Ark gently laid the two weapons on the ground and peered into the case once more. As he'd expected, there was a note tucked under the velvet lining, the corner of the white paper barely visible under the smooth fabric. He tugged gently at the paper until it lay in his hand, and with bated breath he unfolded it.

_With golden flames the blade of the gods vanquishes thy enemies' souls._

_With icy darkness the axe of death himself spills thy enemies' blood._

_They are the Twin Reavers, destined to serve their masters until the end of time, to reign over all that is good and evil. May he who finds these legendary weapons use them for the greater good of the world, so that destruction shall not seize the earth in its grasp._

Underneath the ornate script that the first few lines had been written in, he could see some slightly less elaborate handwriting, and he recognized Avelyn's neat script.

_These are the words inscribed upon the legendary Reavers, forged from the ancient alliances between the humans and elves and brought to battle against the great demon Razier. Since the deaths of their masters, these once-immortal weapons have been forever lost to time…until now._

_Dracon and Seles found the Soul Reaver while they were training in the icy peaks of El Nath and gave it to me as a wedding present of sorts. I've used it ever since, and now it falls to you. The Blood Reaver, unfortunately, is lesser-known. Some time before I wrote this, I asked your father to find the second Reaver if he possibly could. If he succeeded, I told him to leave it here, where you could find it. If not, then you'll still have my sword, which is the best I can give you._

_Take them, Ark, and use them when the time is right and the Lightbringer returns to us._

There was no signature this time, and Ark could not help a tear falling down his right cheek. He at last understood the true meaning behind what Avelyn meant when she had told him that the ring would serve him well, and he finally knew the true reason why Rafael Wolfen had left his three sons eleven years ago and had never returned.

The axe in his hand reflected blue light as he stared at it, and he felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through him as he realized something. If the Blood Reaver was here, really here in his hands, then could there be some chance- just the faintest possibility- that his father might still be alive?

Taking note of the weapons in his hand, he found that given their exceptionally light weight, he could hold the Soul Reaver in his left hand and the Blood Reaver in his right at the same time. He was not particularly ambidextrous, but he found that with some quick practice he could slash both through the air with a speed and strength that put his abilities with his old Helios to shame.

Tears of bittersweet gratitude grazed Ark's cheeks as he shouldered both weapons to the light, and as he turned his gaze towards the brilliant sunrise, he thought for a faint moment he could see his father, mother, and brother silhouetted against the light, their faces turned towards him.

_Ascion…I promise, someday, I will avenge you._

-----

As the sunrise slowly spread over the shores of Victoria Island, Rinalde Stalrigarde silently stared out the window from her mansion.

Her pearly eyes gently scanned the horizon for a moment before she turned her attention back to her desk, which was currently littered with blackened scraps of paper and burnt smears of dark ink.

Personally, she thought composing wedding invitations using alchemy had seemed like such a good idea ten minutes ago…

Clearing the mess off her desk with a swipe of her arm, she resignedly pulled a clean sheet of stationery towards her and dipped her quill into the inkpot, drops of obsidian beading from its tip. She delicately chewed on the tip of her tongue before writing upon the first sheet, her elegant script looking as though as it had been professionally printed.

She dashed off a few briefly-written rough drafts before crumpling the papers and turning her gaze outside towards the window. What she wouldn't give to be in Victoria Island right now…

Not that she had ever enjoyed being there, of course. The memories of living in their apartment building near Kerning City and being forced to memorize endless pages of boring alchemy texts brought a bad taste into her mouth, and when her younger brother had been born it only added to the family's workload. She couldn't deny how happy she had been when her parents had first brought home that big load of money from selling their treasures from the Dungeon, the fact that they would never live in poverty again.

Cruel irony it was that the very same desire for wealth that they possessed ultimately led to their downfall.

The sad thing was, as Joseph had told her, she hadn't even cared. When the courier had sent word that the bodies of her parents had been identified, what little sorrow she had felt had quickly evaporated. She thought she hadn't needed to cry- in her own personal defense, they hadn't been very good parents. They spent more of their time thrill-seeking in Zakum Dungeon than taking care of their daughter and son.

But ultimately, she had wound up making the same mistake her parents had, didn't she, when she had sent her brother off to a foster family? Despite her own motives- she had been seventeen at the time and couldn't afford to take care of a child- she found that the more she thought about it, the more selfish her actions had seemed. As it turned out, she and her brother had spent the last seven years away from each other. They hadn't even seen each other until he had given her his wedding present some time ago.

Quietly, she glanced at the ring on her finger and thoughtfully stared at the pen on her desk, wondering how she could possibly put what she was feeling right now onto the paper before her.

She finally ended up writing what seemed more like a personal letter than a formal invitation, cramming the elegantly-lined paper with as much writing as she could. She begged him to forgive her (even though he already had) and entreated him to please be her guest of honor (even though he'd already agreed to come).

She read the letter over to herself- it was rather sappy and a far cry from what she'd intended to write in the first place, but she finally decided it was better than nothing.

She folded the paper into thirds and slid it into an envelope, then licked the edge and neatly sealed it, taking care to write her brother's name on the front as the recipient. Once that was done, she set the letter upon her desk and stared into the mirror, watching her own face as her hair fluttered down her shoulders.

"That was a very touching letter, Miss Stalrigarde."

Rinalde's heart missed several beats as she whirled around in her chair and saw a girl standing behind her, her arms folded. She noticed that the girl had blonde hair, the same color as hers, except it hung past her waist. From her looks, she appeared a mage, wearing a neat gold-trimmed robe of sky-blue. She was young, either in her late teens or early twenties. But what struck Rinalde most were her eyes- wide, emotionless orbs of silver that betrayed nothing. She felt as though the person watching her were more spirit than human.

"Who…are you?" she whispered, her heart beating in her throat. "How did you get in here?"

"I have my ways." the girl replied calmly, not taking her eyes off the stunned bride-to-be. "As for my identity, that I am afraid I cannot tell you. You could say that I am nothing…and everything, at the same time."

Rinalde was not in the mood for riddles. "If you d-don't leave at once, I will call my security!"

The girl did not look even remotely intimidated, but rather amused. "I would prefer you not. It would be quite a waste of time and effort." Somehow, these words struck Rinalde more than anything else that this was not a person to be trifled with.

"Why…are you here?" she finally whispered, slumping backwards in her chair.

"I noticed that you were writing a letter to your youngest brother, Joseph Stalrigarde." The girl's eyes did not waver. "Am I correct?"

"Y-yes…" Rinalde felt her voice fade into nothing as she stared into those emotionless eyes.

The girl's smile widened. "Excellent. You need not worry. I am a good friend and acquaintance of his. In fact, I would be more than happy to deliver your message to him."

Rinalde's expression relaxed somewhat. "Would you…really do that?" she whispered.

The girl's gentle smile did not fade. "Indeed I will, Miss Stalrigarde." she nodded, plucking the letter from the table and stowing it into her pocket. "Good day to you." she said, as she turned towards the door, no doubt to leave.

The heiress felt her pulse return to normal as the girl's chilling eyes turned away from her. They reminded her of ghosts, empty spirits. Slowly, the girl's footsteps echoed away from Rinalde as she walked towards the door. However, once she laid her hand on the doorknob, she stopped abruptly and turned towards her, her eyes fixated upon her once more.

"Oh, and by the way…" For the first time, Rinalde could see blue-white lightning dancing in the girl's pupils, and at that moment, she knew something was very wrong.

"…My name is _Raizen." _she whispered, just barely loud enough for her to hear.

Then there was a blinding flash of light, a searing moment of pain, and she lost consciousness.

* * *

_Chapter Notes:_

_(1) For those of you about to kill me for the cliffhanger, blame it on the people who asked for shorter chapters._

_(2) This isn't the best chapter I've written so far, and I acknowledge that. Most of it is about Ark being angsty, which in retrospect wasn't such a good idea, but you know, I had to advance the plot somehow. The next chapter will contain much more action (when I get to write it, that is.)_

_(3) No, Ascion isn't "coming back." It would be interesting to see if he went down the same path as Grace, but I know I'd get a lot of hate mail if I did. Plus, I happen to like Ascion (which is, of course, why I killed the little brat.) This isn't to say that he'll disappear from the story forever, but for all intents and purposes, I am not resurrecting him any time soon._

_(4) Credit for the Twin Reavers goes to Master and Chief and Arbiter, whose idea I borrowed for collateral (since he kidnapped practically every character I own). By the way, Chief, you better update LC soon or I'll blow a kidney._

_(5) Please, for the love of cream cheese and all that is holy, DO NOT leave a review bitching about non-canonicity. I really shouldn't be talking since this is practically the most non-canon out of all the chapters I've written, but I've already devoted endless pages to this subject and I honestly don't want to waste everybody's time with a rant that I know no one is going to read anyway. Just do me that one little favor._

_(6) I drew a picture of Zeraion and Grace a couple weeks back, which you can look at if you so choose. Their costumes aren't in the story, but I thought it would be cute to draw them in similar-colored outfits. Ignore Zeraion's weird hand poses and Grace's anorexic arms- as you all know by now, I can't draw to save my life._

_w w w . i 1 2 1 . P h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / o 2 4 0 / I D o o d l e O n N a p k i n s / L o v e b i r d s . j p g_

_(7) For all of you who have this story on your favorite/alert lists and aren't reviewing (and trust me, there are a lot)…well, I can't force you to review, but I also can't guarantee that I won't post your names in the next chapter for everyone to see._

_7 chapters left!  
_

_-Kal _


	23. Trials by Regret

**Chapter 20**

_No author's note for now. Didn't have time to type it because parents were laying siege on my room trying to get me to sleep. Sorry for the huge delay, I promise I will explain later. For now, just read the chapter. Update to come later._

_May be some typos in there; didn't have time to proofread.  
_

_Wouldn't hurt to play some music while reading this chapter. I suggest:_

_A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton (section near middle w/ Gardner + Phoenix)_

_I Miss You by Blink 182 (same as above)_

_Unforgivable Sinner by Lene Marlin (last section)_

_Weapon by Matthew Good (last section)_

_Enjoy, and make effing sure you review._

_Kal_

* * *

The letter came at about noon.

He heard the knock at the door and went to open it, and there stood the courier, clad in a neat chain mail with a large sword hitched over his back. A neatly sealed envelope was in his hand.

"This came for you, High Captain." the knight nodded briefly to Joseph Stalrigarde, who took the letter as quickly as it had came and closed the door behind him.

The alchemist's eyes briefly flitted across the letter with the tiniest bit of interest. He could see that the outside of the envelope was neatly embroidered with flower patterns; muttering a quick incantation, he could detect that the letter was composed of the highest-quality cotton-blend paper known to humankind.

Any lingering doubts about who the letter could be from vanished when he saw his sister's neat handwriting on the front of the envelope.

He silently stared at the message in his hand for a full minute, then with a decisive motion of his wrist, turned the letter on top of a stack of paperwork that was beginning to stagnate on his desk. Forms, reports and statistics were buried inside the mountain of parchment, a logistical nightmare that he honestly did not feel like going through at the moment.

He had more important things to do.

Pushing the stack that bore Rinalde's letter away from him, the alchemist turned his attention to the small object that had put him in such a grim mood; the message that had been sent an hour ago to all members of Delta Division in the Elaesian Armed Forces.

With Perion and Ellinia in shambles over the recent battles that had been fought, the four leaders of Victoria had raised the deadly question over whether Kerning City should be fortified or abandoned. All thieves were given a chance to vote, two nondescript squares resting on the surface of the white card. The letter outlined both sides' points of contention: yes, defending the thieves' home was a _noble _thing to do, but did Gault really give a damn about nobility at a time like this?

In the back of his mind, though, Joseph knew it was futile. He'd already seen the carnage that the Balrogs had wreaked over Ellinia mere hours ago, and even if they managed to hold back waves after waves of bloodthirsty Balrogs, the fact remained that Grace Raizen could arrive any moment and topple the whole thing over in a second.

He sighed once more. Damn it all- damn this whole thing to hell. Of all the times that the world had to be engulfed in a huge bloodthirsty war, why did it have to be now?

Technically, he didn't even care that much for Kerning City. He had spent very little of his life in the metropolitan areas of the city; their family had moved to the lush gardens of Orbis about five years after his birth and had never looked back.

They weren't just _thieves _anymore. They were alchemists, magicians- there was something almost refined about the term, as if he were wearing a crown and a purple cape every time he said or heard it. Very few competent alchemists existed in Bera now, and his sister, the only remaining scion of the Stalrigarde family other than himself, wasn't one of them.

For a split second, he wanted to curse his parents for leaving him at a time like this, but remembering Dark Lord's words when they had had their first haphazard meeting, the feeling subsided into dull bleakness. His parents- especially his father- had always been the adventurous type, and he could no more have made them stay at home than he could have buried them alive. It had been their decision to venture into the dungeons of Ossyria to support their children, and ultimately their decision to accept the risks that came along with the venture.

He briefly cast a glance at himself, his blackened clothing glimmering in the noon light. There were probably at least a hundred million mesos' worth of tradeable commodities on his person at this moment. Countless Steely, Ilbi, and Hwabi stars hung from the inside of his jacket, each ready to be thrown at a moment's notice. A pair of silver-plated hawk-shaped earrings hung near his cheeks as a black cape with the insignia of a golden flame hung across his back. His right wrist was adorned with a Casters, its golden sleeve and brilliant knuckles flexing as though they were part of his hand itself.

He had so much wealth, but none of it served him any good when all he wanted was the love of his parents and older sibling- a feeling he'd never truly experienced in his life.

_In order to gain something, something of equal or greater value must be lost. _

The unbreakable law of equivalent exchange rested firmly in his mind as he silently glanced out the window and marked his decision upon the card to abandon Kerning City.

-----

Lisande Isalden's steps echoed softly across the halls of Elaesia as she walked through the narrow corridors, her raven hair gently falling behind her back in a shower of elegance. Her sword dangled lightly at her waist, her bow hitched over her back.

The various humans she passed made admiring whistles and catcalls towards her as she walked, but she ignored them with as much dignity as she could muster and pressed on. Bringing a thousand of her kin from their home in Sleepywood sounded rather idiotic in retrospect…but knowing what Aslan and Ryden had told her, this was much more than a mundane series of small skirmishes, and as cliché and as deadpan as it sounded in her mind, the fate of the world was literally hanging in the balance.

She had remembered being serenaded to bed every night by a retelling of the legendary four heroes and how they had vanquished the great demon Razier from the face of the earth, never to return again, but she never could have imagined in all her wildest dreams that she would live long enough to see it all happen all over again.

History was repeating itself once more, and this time, it had caught them all in its tangled web of betrayal, death, and sacrifice.

It wasn't letting go any time soon.

She met Aslan briefly in the hall, but their eyes barely met before he turned away and went his separate path, his massive blade draped across his back. Privately, Lisande knew nothing of the Paladin's past, but she knew well enough not to bother with personal details. All she knew was that he was an excellent swordsman and a decent enough spell caster.

Briefly in the back of her mind, she wondered where Ark had gone off to before she found herself standing in front of an ornately carved door. Words were embossed in a plaque mounted on the door:

_Commander-in-Chief of the Elaesian Armed Forces_

Lisande's dark hair rippled behind her shoulders for a moment before she rested her elegant fingers on the door handle and pulled it open.

True to the sign's word, the commander-in-chief of Elaesia was sitting behind her desk as always, her long, elegant copper tresses trailing the floor. She noticed the latter was wearing reading glasses and seemed to be staring at a picture of some sort, clutched in her hands.

Hearing Lisande's quiet footsteps, Athena glanced upwards and quickly stowed the picture away in her desk. A look of mingled shock and amazement seemed to be plastered upon her face as they gazed into each others' eyes, and impossibly, there seemed to be the faintest vestige of what seemed like…fear?

Lisande's fingers turned pale and her eyes widened as she recognized the bowmistress' face. It couldn't be, not here, not now…

"Who…are you?" Athena whispered hollowly, her hand trailing dangerously to her quiver. "Speak now, or forever hold your words!"

"I am Lady Lisande Isalden of Galiaen, heir to the crown of Galion Isalden and Riane Pieralasca, the All-Knowing." Lisande breathed, her voice nearly constricting in her throat. She knew at this point, she risked death. Communicating with the exiled daughters of the elven king and queen was forbidden by law…

Athena froze, her eyes flickering rapidly back and forth between Lisande and the door behind her. The latter could see beads of sweat forming on the bowmistress' forehead as she seemed lost in a conflict of wills, torn between her desire to do one thing and her duty to do the other.

After what seemed like the most uncomfortable five minutes of Lisande's life, Athena finally fell back and settled herself painstakingly in her chair. There was a strange, melancholy expression on her face, as though she'd aged a thousand years.

"My father sent you." Athena whispered silently, her eyes bowed towards the desk, hiding the shame and regret of years long past.

Lisande neither confirmed or refuted the statement, but merely kept her eyes riveted on her stepsister, the headstrong princess she had heard so many tales about. Exiled from her place as a member of the royal family and founder of the human town of Henesys, tales about the bowmistress Aethenea Pieralasca could have filled an entire encyclopedia.

"Before you condemn me to my fate, tell my beloved father and mother that I regret nothing." Athena continued coldly, her eyes still riveted towards the desk as she slowly fingered the hard wooden surface.

The back of Lisande's throat was savagely dry and she forced herself to swallow before speaking. "I…I did not come for that purpose." she whispered softly, her tone gentle, almost understanding.

"Then for what, my dear sister?" Athena murmured almost whimsically, raising her head; there was an almost manic glint in her eye. "We have not seen purpose to venture from our forest haunts for millennia, not since the emergence of Razier upon our lands."

"I…needed to talk to you." Lisande murmured, running her tongue along the back of her teeth. "There are some matters that I would like to clarify with you for the moment."

The bowmistress barely moved. "What sort of matters?"

"For example…" Out of the corner of her eye, Lisande noticed a chair resting near the side of the desk and sat herself down in it, shuffling the seat forward so her eyes were level with Athena's. "Is it true, what Aslan said- that the legendary demon has been unleashed upon our lands once more?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Athena quietly folded her hands. There was a trace of sorrow in her almond eyes. "It is the greatest misfortune that has befallen us so far. The demon is already amongst us, wreaking destruction upon our lands and causing untold thousands of casualties. It is my duty to stop it as soon as possible."

Lisande stayed quiet for some time. A few uncomfortable moments elapsed before she ventured, "Assuming that Razier has, Goddess forbid, risen from the dead once more, what about Lisandea's Judgment?"

She did not directly answer the question, but instead stared at Lisande with a touch of what seemed like newfound affection. "Tell me, did your parents happen to name you after the legendary prophet and magistress?"

"Y-yes." Lisande replied, somewhat shakily.

"Hm." Athena seemed to relax for a second. "That is…a good name." Her eyes turned away from Lisande for a brief moment, and the latter could see Athena was nearly on the verge of tears.

"I am sorry." Lisande whispered, after a second uncomfortable silence. "It is not my place to converse with you regarding these matters."

"Nor should it be." Athena admitted, waving the episode away. "But at times like these, we must do the best we can."

Silently accepting the logic, Lisande found the courage to ask, "Who is the Lightbringer?"

Athena raised her eyebrows, her eyes more pearly than ever. "Why do you ask?"

"It would be a nice thing to know." Lisande murmured.

Although she hadn't meant it as a joke, Athena laughed for a few fractions of a second before she became all business again. "Alas, I wish I had a meso for every person who wants to know the Lightbringer's identity, but we shall never know until Razier is dead, shall we?"

"You must have some sort of guess." Lisande countered, slightly incensed.

"Of course I have a guess." Athena murmured, turning her gaze towards her desk once more. "In fact, I have three guesses, each more improbable than the last. But only one, or perhaps none of them, is correct. Currently, I am acting on the most likely choice and praying to the Goddess that all will turn out for the better."

"What if there isn't any Lightbringer?" Lisande asked, almost desperately. "What if we have just been playing into false hope's hands the whole time?"

Athena raised her eyes off the desk and leveled them towards her younger stepsister. "Then, my dear child," she whispered, "it seems that Fate will have played a cruel trick on us."

Silence reigned between the two elves once more for a few tense minutes.

"I must thank you for bringing elven soldiers here to battle with us, Lisande." Athena said quietly, kneading her desk with her fingertips. "How did you know we needed reinforcements?"

"That was Aslan's idea." Lisande's eyes briefly flickered across the windowless room. "Apparently, so to speak, he smooth-talked your father into giving him a force of a thousand reservists."

"Indeed." Athena couldn't help the corners of her lips turning up ever so slightly. "Aslan is a remarkable young man…despite his sorrows."

"His companions seem to have a rather low regard of him, from what I've heard." Lisande replied coolly, examining her fingernails. "That aside, I wonder if we shouldn't have gone. It's all too sudden, for us to be walking Victoria Island once more, and it pains me to see our countrymen put in such danger-"

Lisande fell silent in the face of Athena's expression. "I understand." she whispered quietly. "But there are things more important than isolation and the illusion of safety. We must fight now or forever hold our peace."

"I suppose you're right." The younger of the two exhaled softly, having nothing more to say. She turned her face to the side of the wall as though expecting to see a window, but there was no light in the room save from the lamp above.

From the dim light in the room, Lisande caught sight of the tips of Athena's Shinebow poking out from her quiver. Athena noticed her expression.

"What is it, my child?" she whispered.

"What of the Shinebows?" Lisande asked, her face momentarily streaked with worry. "Are they…are they safe?"

Athena's face darkened for a moment. "Two of them are." she replied, somewhat stiffly. "The third, unfortunately, is not."

"Have you seen Ark Wolfen?" Athena said rather abruptly, jerking Lisande from her reverie.

"No, I haven't." Lisande's voice was truthful surprise. "What purpose do you seek him for?"

"I was informed by Keiga Seles that he had left for El Nath some hours ago." Athena delicately pressed her fingertips together. "It would be convenient if he were to return as soon as possible, for there is something I must discuss-"

"He's already returned." Lisande said, surprising herself with the volume of her own voice. "I was with him on the return ship to Elaesia."

Athena's eyes suddenly grew weary. "Good." she said, in a rather quiet, tired tone. "Please find him as soon as you possibly can…Avandil."

Lisande froze as she heard the elvish word for 'princess' in her ears- she had not expected to hear that title for centuries, least of all from the person she'd stolen it from. "I'm not…" she stammered, her cheeks turning the slightest trace of rose.

"You will be soon enough." Athena said quietly. "I am old, Lisande…much older than you are. I have seen many things, some that I wish I had never laid eyes upon." Her voice trailed off as she quietly opened the drawer of her desk and took out the same picture she had been staring at when they had first met. Lisande squinted, but could not catch even a glimpse of the picture as Athena's fingers folded around it.

"I long for the days when this fighting will finally be over and we can call this town Henesys once more." she whispered softly, her hair trailing onto the floor, and Lisande took that as her signal to leave.

-----

"Get up, Phoenix."

Rathias Gardner's voice was gentle, yet unyielding, as he steadfastly stood over his student lying prostrate on the blackened ground. The latter had (unsuccessfully) attempted to cast a Fire Phoenix summoning arte minutes ago and had got nothing from his endeavor except a series of painful burns covering his body.

Gritting his teeth, Zeraion staggered to his feet for what seemed like the hundredth time in the row. Gardner reached into his pocket and held a violet-colored flask to Zeraion's face, who reluctantly took it and drained its contents. The burns faded from the ranger's skin as the potion's healing properties took effect.

"Damn it." Zeraion resentfully gazed about the landscape as though each tree towering above him had done him a personal wrong. "How many times have I tried that so far?"

"Twelve." Gardner's face was emotionless as he flicked a strand of amber hair from his eyes. "While I appreciate your effort, Phoenix, I would suggest trying to exert better control over yourself. The island's supplies of elixir can only last for so long…"

Zeraion mumbled something under his breath and drew a smooth turquoise stone from his pocket, the rune carved on its face glimmering in the sun. "Fire Phoenix!"

The burst of resulting energy suffused him as the stone grew white-hot in his palm, sending a searing feeling shooting up his wrist. He could see the air in front of him coalescing as the summoning arte bound particles of mana and matter together, creating the outline of the great phoenix he was about to summon.

Then suddenly, it was as if a vital nerve in his brain had snapped. In a blinding instant, the phoenix immediately vanished, the air exploded, and he was on his back once more, his throat stinging from the taste of ashes. Dirt was strewn through his hair, and his clothing, an emerald-colored robe, fared no better.

Zeraion groped around wildly as bursts of light clouded his vision; seeing his plight, Gardner seized ahold of his student's hand and briskly pulled him to his feet. Accepting another draught of the restorative elixir that the bowmaster offered, Zeraion raked his hand through his blonde hair and fingered the limbs of the Abyssal Arund.

"This is going to take a while." he muttered, somewhat wryly, as he reached into his pocket for another attempt, but Gardner mercifully stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder.

"That's enough for today, Phoenix." For a moment, Zeraion could have sworn that Gardner's normally fierce lightning-blue pupils carried the faintest amount of affection. "It's not healthy to practice overly strenuous summoning artes for prolonged periods of time."

Zeraion rolled his eyes as Athos thrummed lightly in amusement behind him. "Tell me something I don't know." he muttered, licking his lips as the taste of ashes and dirt still unpleasantly lingered on his tongue. "How am I doing, anyway?"

"Surprisingly enough, you've made progress." Gardner stared steadfastly across the burnt grassland that Zeraion had practiced upon. "You seem to be much more adept with practicing fusion artes than normal bowmaster techniques- I suppose it is due to the influence of your rather impressive weapon." He indicated the Abyssal Arund with a slight motion of his head as Zeraion blinked. "Your rate of progress with Fire Phoenix isn't nearly half as good as your proficiency with Final Attack-related artes, but then again, I suppose we should be thankful that you're making any progress at all."

Zeraion wondered whether the bowmaster was complimenting or criticizing him before deciding to give himself the benefit of the doubt. "Thanks." he muttered, sliding a hand into his pocket as he perched himself on a stone near the edge of the waterfall. Cool spray splashed into the back of his head, soothing the aching in his brain.

It was some time before anyone- in this case, the bowmaster- spoke. "It is interesting to note, however, that you demonstrated a surprising level of skill when practicing a couple of days ago." He let out his breath in a controlled hiss. "I was quite surprised when you managed to summon the physical form of the phoenix without killing yourself."

Zeraion realized Gardner was referring to the time when he'd seen Grace in the forest, and decided it would be best not to divulge the real reason for his concentration. "I…um…you know…" He could feel Gardner's eyes drilling through him and forced himself to remain blasé. "I was thinking of a loved one."

Gardner's mouth opened the smallest fraction of an inch before it closed, an unusual expression lighting up his ill-shaven face. "I see. Your brothers, perhaps?"

"Y-yes." Gardner raised an eyebrow at the alacrity of the response, but Zeraion was merely grateful he'd gotten off the hook.

"I think it is time to forgo your bow for now." Gardner slid the quiver containing his Shinebow off his back and set it by the shore of the tide pool, motioning for Zeraion to do the same. "Despite what others may think, I do not want you to find yourself trapped in close quarters with no time to draw an arrow." He held out his left arm and commanded, "Thunder Spear!"

The flagrant bolt of lightning flashed in Gardner's hand, lighting up his features for a moment. He spun the lance in a complicated-looking twirl around his wrist as Zeraion commanded, "Thunder Spear!" as well.

Gardner stopped spinning the spear and held it carefully, deliberately, in front of him, its blade illuminating his face. "And now…" he said, his eyes brighter thousandfold in the light of the weapon, "…we duel."

Zeraion lunged forward first, aiming for the bowmaster's upper body with a direct thrust. However, Gardner sidestepped the incoming blow and blocked Zeraion's attack with surprising strength. Zeraion felt the impact run up his arm as Gardner's spear blocked his own.

He wrenched the lance free and tried an uppercut, but Gardner neatly parried the slash with the hilt of his own weapon and twirled his wrist, sending the head of the lance flying towards Zeraion. Zeraion winced as Gardner's slash cut the air mere inches from his body. Collecting himself, he charged forward on the heels of his feet and tried a diagonal slash, raising his spear in preparation for a strike.

It never came; Gardner stopped the blow at his neck and thrust forward, the point of his weapon suddenly dangerously close to Zeraion's chest. Trying for an opening, Zeraion attempted a spin kick with his foot, but Gardner caught his incoming ankle with the hilt of the spear, tripping him towards the ground bottom-first.

Wiping dirt from his face, Zeraion indignantly stared up at Gardner, regarding him with a cool expression. "I can't possibly-"

"Use your arcane artes." Gardner replied, as casual as ever, before the point of his spear suddenly crackled with white lightning. "Astatos!"

The spear thrust itself into the ground as lightning exploded under Zeraion's feet; he barely dodged the attack by throwing himself across the ground out of instinct. Remembering a scrap of knowledge he'd learnt what seemed like years ago, he raised his hand and spread his fingers as sparks crackled in his palm. "Inferno!"

A bolt of red-orange flame spiraled from his palm and barreled towards Gardner; however, the latter seemed not the least bit fazed, but instead twirled his spear in a circular motion as the flames neared him. The flame flowed off the spinning blade like water as the bowmaster cut through the blaze, completely unharmed.

Zeraion had a moment's warning before Gardner stabbed through the air inches from him, static electricity prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. He narrowly ducked a slash from the bowmaster and tried to use a leg sweep, but Gardner jumped out of the way in time, the blade missing his ankles, and brought his own lance down. There was a loud flash and a cloud of dust as the spear missed Zeraion's head and slammed into the ground.

Determined to find a way past the bowmaster's guard, Zeraion charged forward as the tip of his spear glowed with energy. "Riving Gale!" he roared, lunging forward with his right arm as a tempest of jade wind burst from the lance head, throwing an emerald glow over the ground as dust flew through the air, his weapon aimed directly at the bowmaster's chest.

Time seemed to slow as Zeraion's arm lunged forward, and Gardner's head turned, his electric-blue eyes unblinking. For a split second, Zeraion thought he saw Gardner's pupils flash, and the next thing he knew, he heard a shout of "Impaling Heaven!"

In one swift, fluid motion, Gardner's arm cut through the air like lightning, and the hilt of his spear caught Zeraion in the chest. Thrown off his feet by the impact, Zeraion skidded and rolled across the ground, coughing up droplets of blood.

"I'd advise you to think of a better strategy than 'charge and ask questions later', Phoenix." Gardner said flatly, vanishing the spear in his grip as he turned away from his student and walked towards the forest. Zeraion was about to call him back, but in the next instant, the trees had swallowed him up.

"Stupid, stupid..." Zeraion cursed, painfully hoisting himself onto his feet as dirt streaked his face. There was an apple-sized bruise throbbing away on his chest where Gardner had struck him. He would never be able to get within a hundred paces of Gault if he kept forgetting his battle tactics.

His eyes briefly wandered towards the grove of trees that the bowmaster had disappeared into. He noticed that Gardner's habits had changed noticeably after he had asked about the mysterious diary entry; for one thing, the elder bowman no longer spent as much time with him training, often supervising him from a distance before disappearing into the forest; what he was doing, Zeraion could only guess.

For another, Gardner rarely spoke to him anymore; what little words he did slip to his student were either flat and/or biting, as though he resented the latter for bringing up such a painful part of his past. Secretly, Zeraion deeply regretted bringing up the subject, but there was nothing he could do to take back the words once he'd said them.

The only good thing that could be said for his current situation was that he now had a lot more free time to himself- although really, there wasn't much to do. He could train and train all he wanted, but what good would that do if he was stranded here? Had he been sent here just to escape his fate as one of those to be sacrificed to fulfill the ancient prophecy?

_Shut up, _a voice in his head firmly reminded. _You don't even know if Gault was right or not, and nine out of ten he's lying anyway. Training is the only way you'll be able to save Grace._

For a brief moment, his thoughts flickered back to how his life had been seven years ago, before this whole mess with Gault and Final Attack, when he'd known the comfort and care of his two brothers and had been a carefree child wanting to make a name for himself in the world.

Seven years ago, he would have given anything to be the world's only means of salvation from evil, but now, he felt like he would have given anything to escape his fate.

Almost whimsically, his mind fluttered to the chess game he'd played through with Gardner, and an uncomfortable feeling clenched through his chest as he remembered how easily Ark, Ascion, and the rest of his pieces had been swept off the board.

The endgame was coming soon.

-----

Ryden Dracon and Aslan Seles stood, motionless and dumbfounded, as Ark slashed the Twin Reavers through the air in a shower of fiery crimson and icy blue.

"I don't believe it." Marron finally mumbled, speechless for what seemed like the first time in his life. "It can't be…the Soul and Blood Reavers…"

Ryden was equally stunned, if a little less outwardly so. "People have heard only stories of the Twin Reavers." he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. "It's said they were once owned by the legendary Paladin, Darius Ryuuzaki, who perished in the Ancient War. Their power is immense-"

"Immense is an understatement." Marron cut in bluntly, letting some hair fall over his eyes. "Apparently, Darius single-handedly slew a thousand and one demons in one day with the Reavers."

"Exactly." Ryden kneaded his hands together as Ark slid the Blood Reaver in the sheath on his back and kept the Soul Reaver at his side. "Tales of legendary weapons have been common lore in Bera for centuries. Everybody always dreams that there's some kill-all sword that can slay anything and everything in seconds, but those have only been myths. I mean, if these really were-"

Ryden did not find words to finish his sentence, and settled for waving a hand in Ark's direction while Marron cast a pensive glare over the iridescent weapons. "Replicas of the Twin Reavers have been made since Darius' death, but none have even come close to reaching the power of the original- if they even exist. The whole idea of the gods' blade and death's axe may have just been a wartime myth to raise morale-"

"Well, I don't think so." Ark muttered, silencing the Paladin for a moment. "My mother gave it to me, and I don't think she would have lied." His eyes of cold steel flickered across the carmine blade. "She said Seles and Dracon gave it to her as a wedding present."

Ryden and Marron briefly exchanged glances- the idea of their fathers giving Ark's mother a present of any kind, least of all a legendary sword, was somewhat farfetched. Choosing his words carefully, Ryden asked, "How are you going to find out if they're real?"

"Only one way to find out." Ark replied, calmly hefting the Soul Reaver in both hands as its blade glowed a deep orange. Turning towards a nearby tree, he swung the sword in a wide arc and commanded in quick succession, "Power Strike…Final Attack!"

The blade suddenly grew even brighter in intensity, red-orange flames leaping from its edge as its center blazed pure white. Raising the sword above his head, Ark brought it down in a diagonal slash.

There was a sonic boom-like explosion as the sword suddenly exploded in a brilliant flash of flame, sparks of orange-yellow flying through the air from the point of impact. Turning on his heel, Ark spun about for a second attack and lunged forward with a stab-like slash, the heavy sword rupturing the air in a searing burst of flame.

The sword's flames gradually faded as Ark spun the Reaver in midair and shouldered it, his eyes gazing across the wreckage. Behind him, Ryden and Marron watched, lost for words, as the tree trunk lay in three scorched yet perfectly cut pieces across the ground, power and precision combined to the highest degree.

"I guess that means it's real." Ark smiled for what seemed like the first time since Ascion's death, turning towards his awestruck companions as he lowered the point of the blade to the ground. "I should probably test the Blood Reaver now…"

But before he had a chance to bring death to another tree with the gigantic sapphire-laid axe, Lisande Isalden burst from the path and ran breathlessly towards them, her lavender gown billowing behind her in the wind.

"Ark-!" she panted, as she skidded to a stop in front of all three warriors. "Athena said she needed to see you…"

Ark barely raised an eyebrow; being called for something was nothing new to the officers of Elaesia, and concerning the events that had transpired recently, he should have known it was coming. Muttering a hurried goodbye to the other three, he took off at a brisk run towards Athena's office.

"What does she need him for?" Ryden asked, raising an eyebrow as the sound of Ark's footsteps disappeared to the wind.

"I haven't the least idea, but she seemed a bit grim in saying so." Lisande said, running her fingers through her hair. "By the way…" Her pearly eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Perhaps I've been hallucinating a little from sleep deprivation, but was Ark carrying Deus Ignis and Nex Glacies?"

"What?" Both swordsmen blinked.

Lisande put a hand to her forehead. "Godly Flame and Deathly Frost in the ancient language- known as the Soul and Blood Reaver in your tongue." She gave Marron a somewhat condescending look. "I would have thought at least _you _knew."

"Yeah, well- my elvish has been a bit rusty lately." Marron snapped defensively, as Ryden's face lit up. "Lisande," he asked, as the princess gave him a questioning look in response, "do the elves know of any legendary weapons besides the Twin Reavers?"

Lisande seemed briefly surprised by the question, but answered, after some thought, "Yes. The Falchion- the dragon weapons. Unlike the human-made Twin Reavers, the Falchion are of elven make, and were forged in the flames of Zakum. They were the inspiration for several human replicas, which, while still formidable, pale in comparison to the originals. However, the original Falchion were destroyed in the Ancient War and were never spoken of again…though, some do survive."

Both Marron and Ryden were captivated now. "What were they?" the latter asked, with bated breath.

"The Falchion were based upon the weapons that we now have today; the sword, axe, mace, spear, polearm, wand, staff, bow, crossbow, dagger, and claw. Each took a decade to forge, and were each christened by their masters. They were used in the Ancient War against Razier, but after the death of their masters, they were destroyed by the demons, and the humans were left to replicate them…all except four."

Seeing the two swordsmen's eager expressions, Lisande sighed and continued, fingering a strand of her dark hair. "The first surviving Falchion belonged to an ancient Dark Knight, whose name is now lost to time. Of the three Dragon Pertizans, only his survived. His spear was Divinis Placia_- _Celestial Judgment."

"Where is it now?" Marron asked, after a long silence.

Lisande shrugged. "That, I do not know. For all we know, it may be buried somewhere in the dungeons of Ossyria. I have heard rumors that someone may have found it recently, but they are only rumors, after all."

"What were the other three?" Ryden wondered.

"Oddly enough, the only Falchion apart from Divinis Placia that survived Razier's wrath were the three Dragon Shinebows. They were taken care of by a guild of elven archers who sought to protect them from the demons. Two were hidden in the dungeons of Zakum, while the third was placed under the care of House Pieralasca and guarded with the utmost security."

"Are they still missing?" Marron asked.

Lisande shook her head no. "The names of these legendary bows were Sanctus Carmine, Heaven's Symphony; Sempiterna Sonatis, Eternal Sonata; and Aetas Termina- Time's End."

"Where are they now, then?" Ryden asked, cracking his knuckles.

Lisande sighed briefly, a troubled look on her face as she ran her fingers across her forehead. "Time's End, Heaven's Symphony, and Eternal Sonata are the Dragon Shinebows owned respectively by Rathias Gardner, Athena Pierce, and Gault Isentryx."

-----

Miles away, Sempiterna Sonatis was lying quietly in the lap of its sinister owner, who was quietly stroking it as though it were a pet of some sort. He had gotten somewhat in the habit of doing that lately, although no one would have dared bring it up in casual conversation for fear of being blown to bits.

Gault Isentryx uncrossed his legs and got up from his seat, sliding the Eternal Sonata into his quiver as his footsteps echoed for what seemed like the thousandth time across the icy hall of his domain. His hair bore down to his shoulders and had a rather unkempt air about it, his pupils continuing to bear the same blood-red madness that they had done so for the past few years. He was only human, and yet there was something not so about, as though one were staring into the eyes of a demon.

Then again, there wasn't really much for him to judge himself against.

He would have liked to confide in Balthazar- ah, yes, that Omega Balrog that had been his greatest creation. Formed from a bog-standard Crimson Balrog, imbued with a necromantic arte that had changed their body structure, and granted armor and weapons beyond the greatest dreams of mortals, the Devil Three certainly were a fearsome trio, capable of unleashing instant destruction in an instant- as they had so satisfyingly done some time back at Elaesia.

Unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury now. Balthazar had returned from his excursion into El Nath bloody, his armor broken, and generally much worse for the wear. Gault did not press him for questions, but he was certain that it had had something to do with Aslan and his companions- and he felt a slight bit of annoyance run through him as he thought of the sons of Keiga Seles, Dracon, and Avelyn Blade. They would all have to die, he thought, but especially the former. After all, the Judgment had to be fulfilled someday. Lisandea's words would ring true over the bloodied lands of Bera.

His eyes briefly gazed into the icy walls that served as mirrors with their crystal-clear reflections, and for a moment, one could have seen the frightened, vengeful, eleven year-old that he had once been before the expression of remembrance faded away and he was himself once more.

The aura of darkness hovered about him as a veil spread over his eyes, and he thoughtfully stared across the hall for a moment before unsheathing the Shinebow and shouldering it steady, aiming towards the end of the hall.

Raizen would be returning soon.

The door swung open as Grace arrived unceremoniously, clutching the fallen figure of a tall, blonde woman in her arms. The woman was very beautiful and very elegantly dressed, jewelry of all sorts adorning her body. She was wearing a white gown that trailed the floor, contrasting sharply against the elegant, yet unextravagant clothing of her captor.

Delicately, Grace lowered her prey to the ground before throwing a somewhat caustic look at her master. "Were you expecting an attack?"

"No." Gault's eyes flitted briefly across the woman before they rested on Grace once more. "It is just…a force of habit."

"Hm." Grace's normally soulless eyes seemed to twinkle at him for a moment- although, that could have just been a figment of his imagination.

"Don't tell me you are becoming afraid of Zeraion Phoenix." she whispered, almost teasingly, as she walked past him.

In an instant, Sempiterna Sonatis had vanished to be replaced by a gigantic, lethal-looking curved brand of darkness, its blade glimmering evilly. Its point was aimed straight at Grace's throat.

"Do not irk me, Raizen." Gault hissed. Diamond was softer than his voice.

Grace paused before nodding demurely and stepping back a few paces so her eyes were level with Gault's. "I brought what you asked for." she said, all traces of her previous comment apparently forgotten.

"I see." Crimson eyes came once more to rest on the unconscious woman. "Is she still alive?"

Grace made a disdainful noise. "Of course."

A thin smile spread across the bowmaster's face. "Excellent. If all goes well, another one of the pillars blocking my path shall be destroyed…and with luck, the entire state of Elaesia with them."

"You aren't still putting stock in the Judgment, are you?" Grace sighed, tossing a handful of her long blonde hair behind her back. The edge of her robes fluttered at her heels as she spoke, almost as if they were moving with her voice.

"Why not?" Grace noticed that Gault seemed to have a habit of sweeping his eyes across the room whenever he talked. "It happened once before, and as I am sure Athena has said, it will happen again."

"Perhaps not in the way you desire, Isentryx." Grace chided softly, her eyes reflecting emptiness as she turned away.

Gault's eyes flashed briefly for a moment before he laid a hand on Grace's shoulder. "Turn around."

She did so, and their eyes met, neither saying anything as the latter scrutinized the former's face searchingly.

"_You are beautiful even after death, Ceraia." _he finally whispered, not in his normal voice, but in a tone that sounded as though it had come from Razier himself.

For the faintest of moments, Grace almost looked as though she were flesh and blood once more, her eyes widening, but in the next instant, her back was turned as she marched resolutely out of the hall.

-----

"You wanted to see me, Athena?" Ark Wolfen's voice was cold steel in the dim light of the office.

Athena Pieralasca sighed and let her fingertips rest against the hard surface of her desk. "I have been hearing that phrase one too many times these days." she whispered, her voice barely audible as she brushed a strand of oaken hair from her eyes. "Of course I needed to see you, Ark. I would not have sent Lisande otherwise, bless her heart."

Recalling the information he'd heard in Lisande's garden some time ago while in Galiaen, Ark dimly realized that Lisande and Athena were stepsisters. "Yeah." he muttered dimly, having nothing more to say. "I received the message…"

"Well, that is all I needed to hear." Athena said, as she cleared the desk with a sweep of her arm. The gesture was pointless, since the desk was already bare, but Ark supposed Athena had gotten more or less accustomed to the habit. "I see your father managed to find Nex Glacies after all."

"Excuse me?" Ark blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Deathly Frost, otherwise known as the Blood Reaver." Athena curled her fingers. "You must forgive me, Ark…While I was not directly privy to the events regarding your mother's will, I did learn that Avelyn commissioned Rafael to find the sacred axe shortly before her death. As you can imagine, it was not an easy task."

"I can tell." Ark muttered, his arms limp at his sides. He did not much feel like talking to Athena- he would rather have been cleaving apart Taurospears with his newly-acquired weapons of war, or at the very least, sleeping.

"I trust you will take good care of the Twin Reavers." Athena's gaze was unfaltering. "They are not items to be taken lightly and it would be disastrous if they ended up in the wrong hands. I sincerely hope your parents did the right thing delivering them into your possession."

"Mm." Ark suddenly felt a hundred years older; he felt as though the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders. He now had two of the greatest blades ever forged under his care, and he had been transformed from a common crusader to the greatest avenger the Elaesians possessed. The thought both excited and scared him a little- quite frankly, he wasn't sure if he could handle the burden that Athena now counted on him to carry.

Briefly, his thoughts turned to Zeraion and he wondered if his brother was feeling the same things he was right now. He realized now why Seles had more or less ignored his earlier outburst about being passed over for promotion to a Hero- power was not a simple or easy thing to possess.

"Believe me when I say that I sincerely dislike this command I am about to give you, Ark." Athena whispered, her voice suddenly sounding very weathered. "I know the emotional pain it would cause you of having to confront the issue of your brother's death once more, and for that, I am truly sorry." Their eyes met for a brief moment before Athena raised her head once more. "However, it cannot be helped. As Ascion's oldest surviving relative, it is my duty to see that this task falls to you."

"What task?" Ark muttered, feeling his knuckles stiffen a little in trepidation. He raked a hand across his forehead and noted that his arms felt like lead.

"Although your brother never left a formal will," Athena said, her voice very heavy, "he was aware of the dangers that existed as his position as a commanding officer. Soon after you left for Sleepywood, he commissioned a brief note to me stating that if anything were to happen to him, he wanted you to clean out his room."

"Clean out his- what?" Ark muttered thickly, wondering if he'd misheard. On more than one occasion when they were children, he'd had to clean up Ascion's unkempt toys and laundry, but he had a feeling the cleaning Athena was referring to constituted a bit more than that.

"Your brother's possessions are still in his room," Athena continued, "and as a result of his letter, he indirectly implied that you were to have claim to anything you wished of his, and to do what you would with the rest." Her eyes gazed implicitly at him, a knowing look englazed over her pupils.

"I…I can't." Ark mumbled, his fingers unclenching limply. "I don't want to. You…you can take it all. I just…I mean…" His throat constricted and he had nothing more to say.

Athena took his silence without protest. "I understand, Ark." she whispered, touching his cheek briefly. "But I think it is for the best. After all, there may be something in there you may want to keep…as a memento."

For a moment, Ark wanted to protest further, but the look in Athena's eyes was so sad, it was as though she'd lost her own son. Which wasn't far from the truth- since Rafael's disappearance, it had been as much her job to care for the three siblings as anyone else's.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he nodded. "I'll do it."

"Good." Athena's face relaxed. "This is his key. It's room 74, on the east wing of Gamma Division. You should be able to find it easily."

Ark wordlessly took the keychain and left, quietly closing the door behind him. He felt as though there was something more he should have said to Athena, but the feeling was pushed out of his mind as his footsteps lifelessly thudded across the hall towards Ascion's room.

The distance seemed a lot shorter than he thought, and barely seconds after he'd started, it seemed, he was standing in front of the nondescript door. The number '74' was neatly printed on its face, the metal shining down at him.

Sighing, knowing he couldn't turn away from this any longer, he inserted the key into the doorknob. There was a soft click as the door unlocked, his fingers curling around the doorknob.

He opened the door.

For one of the most powerful priests in Bera, Ascion's room was rather unsophisticated. A window overlooking the training grounds faced the doorway; a small shelf of books lay next to it. There was a bed in front of the bookshelf, as though deliberately put there for convenient reading.

Feeling his eyes itch, Ark rubbed a hand across his face and stepped into the room, blinking as sunshine streamed in through the window. Across from the bed, there was a carved oaken desk and a chair, similar in stature to Athena's yet smaller. The desk's surface was bare save for an inkpot and quill, and also a couple of small picture frames.

Walking closer to the desk, Ark examined the two framed photos resting on the wooden surface. One was a picture of Zeraion, Ascion, and himself dressed in winter clothes, bunched together as though trying to take advantage of all the space the picture would allow. He noticed with a touch of amusement that both Zeraion and Ascion were making goofy expressions and wildly gesturing at the camera- being the supposedly responsible older brother, his own expression was stone.

That had been ten years ago, and now everything had changed. The winter and snow would still be here next year, but Ascion wouldn't be.

He tore his gaze to the second picture, this time of a young teenage boy and a slightly older teenage girl, apparently having been taken three years ago. It took him a moment to realize the boy was Ascion. The girl, on the other hand, was wearing robes of delicate blue-white and a gentle, almost teasing smile. Her hair fell in emerald strands past her shoulders and behind her back.

For the briefest of moments, Ark wondered why his brother would have a picture of Iris Gaiden resting on his desk before he silently answered his own question, letting his fingers go of the picture frame. Trying to imagine Ascion in love was...well, it just didn't really make sense. Ascion had always been the little one, and seeing him romantically paired with anyone, least of all a girl five years older than he, was a bit of a mental shock.

He wondered if Ascion had ever told Iris how he felt about her, and turned away from the desk, gazing out the window.

It was almost as though the room's inhabitant wasn't gone forever, but merely out for a vacation, hoping someday to come back.

Yet deep in the back of his mind, Ark knew Ascion would never return.

He remembered Athena's words, knowing that anything and everything in this room were now his, but there wasn't really much for him to take. Opening the drawer of Ascion's desk, he could see a few scraps of paper covered with magical equations, but as a warrior, what good did that do him?

The clothes closet caught his eye, and when he opened it, he saw a pile of various garments strewn across the closet floor without abandon.

A tiny smile crossed his face for the faintest of moments. Ascion had never really enjoyed doing the laundry...

He crossed over to the bookshelf and let his eyes trail over the various volumes that Ascion kept for reference. Obscure titles like _A Compendium of Arcane Reactions _and _Advanced Healing and Amelioration Techniques _pulled faintly at his mind for brief moments before he tore his gaze away from the books, letting his eyes sink to the floor.

It was then that he caught sight of the encyclopedia.

The large book was unceremoniously lying on its side, its title facing upwards as it lay limply on the ground. Dimly, Ark figured out that Ascion must have dropped the book to the side of the bed before bedtime and forgotten about it, intending to continue reading the next time he got a chance.

He noticed that Ascion had stuck a piece of parchment into the encyclopedia to serve as a bookmark, the slightly wrinkled paper poking out from the book like a tongue. Though he knew he probably wouldn't be able to understand what Ascion had been reading anyway, Ark picked up the book and turned to the marked page.

Instead of the boring sheet of numbers and obsolete symbols he'd been dreading, though, the page he'd turned to was more storybook-like than anything. The edges and corners of the page were laced with ornate engravings, and the text was immaculately flowing, almost as though someone had painstakingly hand-painted the words onto the page.

_She is the daughter of the gods, the soul of the world that bore her._

_Flame, lightning, ice, and light bow to her whim. Her dress is the fabric of time itself._

_Together with her companions, the first masters of the blade, bow, and dark arts, it is she who shall stand against the fury of the great demon._

_Her spells are life and death, her magic beautiful yet deadly, and yet she shall give her life._

_She shall sacrifice herself for her world, and it its she who shall speak the demon's final words._

_She is Lisandea, and her Judgment, the greatest arte ever created, will bind and destroy Razier and seal him away for all eternity._

The bit of prose ended there, and Ark was left with no answers, only more questions. He had heard about Lisandea and the Judgment, of course- every child growing up in Henesys probably had- but for the love of the Goddess, why on earth would Ascion be so interested in a children's story?

He noticed that the piece of parchment that Ascion had stuck in the book was adorned with neat script, his brother's immaculate writing spelling out the steps of what seemed like an arcane arte.

Though he knew little about magician's shorthand, he was well-versed enough in magic to know that the spell that Ascion had been in the midst of composing was not a basic first-class arte- it looked something like what an archmage would have written, and it was apparent even Ascion had not fully managed to master it, given the amount of frustrated ink spots that dotted the paper.

He couldn't believe his eyes- even after spending so much time learning artes like Heavenlapse and sacramental flame, Ascion still had the wits to work out a death spell of his own?

The last line on the page caught his attention, double underlined and bolded with all the attention Ascion had been able to muster, the ink smeared across the page from excitement.

He raised the parchment to his face and read it aloud, his voice sounding eerily loud in the small room.

"_Divinis Caelestia._"

-----

When she finally opened her eyes, it was as if the world had deserted her.

The sight that greeted her when she awoke was both enchanting and terrifying. She was in a gigantic hall of some sort, her own reflection staring back at her from the crystal-clear walls that surrounded her. A large chandelier hung above her head, its many facets glittering at her like daggers. The halls were lined with several golden sconces and a crimson carpet was underneath her body, covering the entire middle of the floor like a stripe.

As a girl, she'd always dreamed of living in a palace, but she had a feeling that there was something more sinister behind this, and she knew she wasn't going to like it.

Her vision slowly coming back into focus, she shook her head, her hair fluttering about her shoulders, and realized that there were two other people in the room with her. One of the figures was elegant and beautiful, her hair flowing behind her back and hanging at her waist. A staff-spear of some kind, its handle and blade encrusted with several large crystals of onyx, rested in the clenched fingers of her right hand.

With a jolt, she realized that this was the same girl that had come for her earlier- the one who called herself Raizen. Terrified, she could feel her heart pumping away in her ribcage as she forced herself to remain conscious. Where was she, and where was her brother? Was he all right?

She nervously turned her head towards the other figure, much taller and more forbidding this time. His night-black hair, streaked with faint ribbons of white, remained splayed across the back of his shoulders. A gigantic golden bow, adorned with a dragon's head and emitting a faint silver aura, rested in the quiver across his back. He seemed to be wearing a long robe of some sort, its hem scraping the ground. But what scared her most of all were his eyes- dark, brilliant orbs of bloody crimson, as if their master had deserted life some time ago, leaving nothing behind except the essence of evil itself.

Whoever he was, she was certain that his plans for her wouldn't be good.

Flashes of nausea passing through her brain, she staggered to her knees, waiting to see if they would do anything, but neither showed the least sign of alarm. Both sets of eyes flickered towards her for a moment before they continued talking.

_"...brought...here?"_

_"...yes...not...known..."_

She could not recognize a word either was saying, and lay down against the hard floor once more, her hair splayed across the side of her cheeks. Most likely, they were probably holding her for money, although something in the back of her head told her with a palace like this, whomever had taken her probably wasn't interested in financial gain of any sort.

She would just have to wait and see.

Raizen's silver pupils flickered towards her. "She's awake."

The crimson eyes followed as well. "So I see." he whispered. His voice was dangerously soft, and it scared her more than anything. "In that case, I suppose I should give her a warm welcome."

She heard footsteps walk towards her and felt adrenaline replace blood in her veins. Briefly, she searched for anything that could help her, but all except the most simple transmutations eluded her now, and there wasn't anything to throw.

She felt a hand wrap around her wrist, its touch icy cold, and felt herself recoil as it seized ahold of her. With no large amount of effort, she felt herself being pulled up to her feet, and her vision swam for a second. When her eyes finally adjusted themselves, she nearly bit her tongue in shock; in addition to having the creepiest eyes she'd ever seen, her assailant had pale, lifeless skin, as if he were a corpse reanimated. A breeze swept through the hall, ruffling his hair for a moment.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stalrigarde." he spoke calmly, a soft smile gracing his features. "Please forgive me for my rudeness. It is not often we have visitors…" His fingers briefly toyed with hers, sending a chill up her spine. "I suppose you have a right to know my name, then. I am Gault Isentryx, and this here is my lovely assistant of sorts. You may refer to her simply as Raizen."

Her eyes flickered briefly to Raizen, who did not return the gesture, before they fell to the floor. She couldn't bear having to look directly into his face. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible from fear.

Gault chuckled, a poisonous sound that made her shiver. "I have told you my name already, my dear, and I have no intention of repeating it once more. As for my purposes in requesting your presence…" His eyes glimmered, although she didn't see it. "That, of course, is something I suppose you should be wondering right now."

He swept his arm across the hall in a wide motion. "Mortal men would die many times over for the wealth you control, Miss Stalrigarde. Your fortune is rivaled only by that of your brother's." Rinalde swallowed past the lump in her throat as she felt Gault stroke her hair.

"However, despite what you may think, I have no interest in material wealth." He shook his head and returned his hand to his own head, running his fingers deftly through his night-black locks. "Why does one desire money, when they can have power? Even the greatest empires of time, built by the wealth of generations, have fallen to the force of an ounce of well-placed power."

She gulped and tasted bile as his gaze returned to her. "I suppose you might think I am requesting your hand in marriage…but that has been the plot of many fairy tales since. Besides, I hear tell you are to be married yourself soon enough…so why spoil the joy?" A faint smile creased his lips as the uncomfortable feeling remained in her insides.

"Then…what do you want?" she squeaked, on the verge of breaking down as sweat slid down the back of her neck.

Very gently, he touched a fingertip to her cheek, and she could feel her veins recoiling at his touch. "I want your blood, Miss Stalrigarde."

Behind her, she could see Raizen advancing upon her, the bladed spear in her hand, and she mustered the strength to cry out, "You're a monster!"

"So I've been told." Gault murmured, his eyes closed thoughtfully as he fingered another tuft of his sable hair. "But is insanity such a bitter price to pay if it means cleansing the world…and returning it to its former glory?"

She felt Raizen seize her arms from behind and wrench them behind her back with painful strength, and she felt her insides lurch as she saw Gault step closer to her, so close his nose was just inches away from hers.

"Tell me, Miss Stalrigarde…" His breath was icy cold on her cheeks. "Do you know the legend of the Fomorii?"

"The…" Rinalde's mind tumbled over the unfamiliar word. "I…I can't…say…"

"The Fomorii," Gault continued, somewhat whimsically, "were a cult of wizards who sought the ultimate goal: absolute knowledge of magic. To achieve their ends, they turned to necromancy- dark magic. Using necromancy, they strove forth to undo magic's most carefully guarded secrets. For the most part, they succeeded. You cannot believe the number of incidents they went through, Miss Stalrigarde. They performed experiments on human subjects, mostly children kidnapped from their families. None of them ever returned." He smiled briefly and cruelly. "Their work was not in vain, however. They developed many dangerous artes that would make one's blood run cold with a single mention. High-tier artifice…material deconstruction…temporal artes…even physical modifications." A faint gleam of madness surfaced in his eyes. "It was the Fomorii that transformed a lesser demon to the great beast known as the Crimson Balrog."

He let his last sentence hang in the air unnervingly before going on. "However, even the greatest secrets of magic have a limit, and the Fomorii, unfortunately, were much too vain for their own good. They attempted the greatest of necromantic artes, soul transmutation: the process of taking one's life force, or soul, and transforming it into pure energy. They experimented on several others before finally deciding to put it to the ultimate test: to successfully transmute the souls of the Crimson Balrogs they had created. What better idea than to take the soul of a demon, a creature already composed mostly of arcane energy, and transmute it into an even higher, purer form of energy? The potential was immense- an everlasting mana pool, all to themselves! The world would bow at their feet!"

Sighing, Gault brushed a strand of hair from his eyes and turned back to Rinalde. "The rest, as I'm sure you know, is history. The transmutation backfired beyond their wildest nightmares. The amount of energy released was too much for anyone to control, even for a cult of highly skilled archmages such as the Fomorii. The energy quickly became a sentience, gaining a mind and will of its own, and it turned on its masters. That sentience, as you very well know, is the arch demon Razier, that the humans and elves united to battle against and whose fate is written in the immortal Lisandea's Judgment."

His gaze sharpened. "What happened to the Fomorii after Razier's formation, however, is lesser known. Most accounts say that they were destroyed after Razier turned on them. However, written records show that this is not entirely true. A scrap of parchment dated some thousand years ago show that contrary to popular belief, a small number of the Fomorii actually survived the catastrophe, able to shield themselves due to their own skill with dark artes. This scrap of parchment, known as the Contract of the Fallen, contains a statement saying that they had no remorse for unleashing the demon upon the world, and they intended to continue their work with dark artes, in preparation for the day when they would rule the world. It was consigned with the signatures of the survivors, including their leader."

Gault's smile widened a little. "I think you will find it interesting that the leader of the Fomorii was a once-humble archmagistress who first devised the artificial arte used to summon Gungnir, the lance of the gods, from the abyss. From there, she pioneered many of the other advancements that the cult made to necromancy and the dark artes. Her name, as fate would have it, was Ceraia Raizen."

Rinalde blinked and realized, despite her situation, she had been so captivated by the tale that she had lost track of herself. "Wh-what happened to Ceraia?" she whispered, her curiosity betraying all else.

Gault's expression became somewhat wistful. "She knew she and the rest of the Fomorii would never be able to practice their arts again. If they did, they would quickly be found out and executed. In desperation, she sought out the only way she could to make sure her arts lived on- she performed soul transmutation on her followers in a sort of ritual suicide, if you will, and with their resulting spirits in hand, exiled them to the one place they would never be discovered- the sea. Thus, the Fomorii turned from mortal wizards to sea demons, awaiting the day when they would someday rise and see the world taken by darkness."

The look on the dark bowmaster's face faded somewhat. "As for Ceraia, she did not consign herself to the same fate as she had bestowed upon her brethren. She returned to her original life, only practicing her necromancy in secret. In truth, she detested Razier, believing the demon to be nothing more than a failed experiment, and promised she would someday defeat the demon herself and bring life to a new creation, one that would overwhelm Razier and allow her to control the world. For this, she lived for hundreds of years even after the Final Four fell, using necromancy to prolong her life, living in secret amongst the human and elf resistance as she consolidated her power."

Gault closed his eyes briefly, and Rinalde took the opportunity to breathe. "What...what happened to Ceraia?"

Gault's eyes opened a fraction of an inch. "Nobody knows. What is known is that she died approximately two hundred years ago, sometime during the last resurgence of Razier, but exactly _how_ is lesser known. Some say she committed suicide, and some say she perished in trying to create a monster greater than that of Razier himself." A slight mocking tone crept into Gault's voice. "Of course, there are some who go so far as to claim that she saw the error of her ways and converted to the human and elf resistance…and some of these legends go even further as to suggest that she fell in love, as people in these sorts of tales are apt to do."

Gault turned his eyes towards the ceiling before his bloody eyes locked dead-on to Rinalde's, nearly causing her to bite her tongue. "Love is such a troublesome thing, wouldn't you agree, Miss Stalrigarde?"

She could not answer, and Gault nodded briefly to Raizen behind him. "Do it."

Before Rinalde could protest, Raizen drew a finger across her left wrist, and she cried out. It was as though someone had applied a red-hot knife to her hand, a cut appearing across her wrist as crimson blood seeped out. In disgust, she felt Gault's ice-cold hand close over the wound, and she heard him chant words that she did not recognize.

An alchemic circle of crimson appeared around their hands and she felt fear shoot through her.  
_He's…he's performing a blood transmutation! _A blood transmutation was a highly advanced form of soul transmutation that could only be used for one thing; to resurrect the dead. Tales had been told of its prowess, and the countless that had died attempting it were scattered throughout history.

_I want your blood, Miss Stalrigarde…_

She finally realized why she had been brought here in the first place, but before she could do anything to stop it, the alchemic reaction balanced itself. As a gigantic glyph of crimson-black runes surrounded her and Gault, she felt a massive pulse run through her, and with her energy drained, she slumped forward and lay still against Gault's chest.

Gault took no notice as Rinalde's limp figure leaned against his own, but merely continued to grip ahold of her hand, keeping her up on her feet, as the alchemic portal slowly opened, the floor slowly melting away to produce what seemed like a vortex, swirls of black magic spinning in its depths. Behind them, Grace watched quietly, her eyes showing not the least bit of emotion as the blood transmutation took place.

Around the gigantic portal that had appeared, several smaller portals began to appear, each with the same crimson-dark sheen as the original, and they opened as well, surrounding Gault, Rinalde, and Grace in a virtual outpouring of cosmic energy. Tossed by a sudden gust of wind, Gault's hair whipped wildly around the sides of his face, as did Grace's. No one moved as the portals began to suddenly glow white, misshapen figures rising from their depths.

One by one, the Fomorii emerged from the outside portals, their silhouettes glowing a bright white for a moment before the light faded, revealing them in their true form. They were neither human nor demon, but something in between. Their figures shimmered in the light; they were composed of opaque water. Their shapes were varied; some were tall and forbidding, with long hair; some were short and gaunt with little or no hair. Some wore robes, and some wore armor. Some had swords, some had axes, and some had staves. But whatever their appearance, they all had one thing in common; no mouths or ears, just cruel, unfeeling eyes of dim yellow that pierced the atmosphere like headlights. Their eyes remained focused on the figures of Gault and Rinalde standing above the center portal, as more and more of their kin emerged, until roughly several hundred of the Fomorii had congregated in the gigantic hall.

When this was done, the center portal began to glow white as well, and then a tall figure, more imposing than all the rest, began to rise from its depths. The white silhouette faded, leaving behind a tall, elegant woman. Despite her age, she looked no older than someone in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair had obviously been blonde at one point, but now looked like a combination of silver and gold. It hung gracefully to her elbows. She was wearing a robe of dark crimson, laced with night-black buckles. A twisted staff of blackened metal, adorned with a shimmering orb of silver impaled by a needle-tapered spear point, rested at her side. Her eyes, unlike the other Fomorii, were almost human, pupils of dark lavender cutting through the air.

The portals disappeared, the dark light fading, and Gault opened his eyes, regarding the scene about him. Rinalde continued to lay unconscious on his shoulders, and he pushed her body off him unceremoniously. Her limp figure hit the floor with a dull thud.

Grace pushed her way through the Fomorii and touched her hand to Rinalde's wrist, streams of caked blood staining her arm. "She's still alive." she pronounced with a touch of surprise. "A blood transmutation of that magnitude should have easily killed her."

Gault regarded Rinalde with a strange look of mixed amusement and coldness. "Well," he said, his voice resonating throughout the hall, "she is a member of the Stalrigarde clan, after all."

"Should we dispose of her?" Grace asked, her staff blazing threateningly at her side.

Gault smiled and shook his head. "Tempting prospect, but no. She may still be useful to us yet."

Grace looked faintly surprised for a moment before she responded, "Then what should I do with her?"

Gault brushed some errant hair from his eyes. "Leave her in Balthazar's care, and make sure no harm happens to her, and heal her up. When she is needed, I will inform you what to do next."

"I see. Agreed, then." Without even pausing, Grace picked Rinalde up in her arms and slung her over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes, the latter's blonde hair trailing the floor, after which she disappeared through the main door of Meteon E'traia.

Gault's blood-red eyes followed Grace before they turned to the woman he'd just summoned. Her eyes seemed somewhat glassy and confused before they rested on her caller.

"Who…are you?" she muttered sleepily. Her voice was at once beautiful, yet deadly.

Gault remained unfazed. "My name is Gault Isentryx…and it's very nice to see you after all these years, Ceraia."

-----

His eyes rested regretfully on the destruction of Ellinia, seeing and knowing more than anyone else's ever could have.

Slowly and quietly, his footsteps broke over the ashen forest floor, once-tall trees and plants reduced to blackened clumps and bits of matter on the ground. The color of his sky-blue robe contrasted sharply with his surroundings, the hem of his cape trailing the ground as he walked.

Deftly, he pulled himself up the frayed ropes that served as a means of transportation between the forest city's endless ledges. His sharp eyes missed nothing as he hurried up the ledges, each step purposeful and determined.

He finally found what he was looking for when he pulled himself up to Ellinia's topmost ledge and gazed pensively at the building that towered in front of him. The great magician's library, carved out of the trunk of a great tree, stood out like a sore thumb. Its stained-glass windows were marred with soot, and much of its surface had been burned. Yet the foundation still remained; a protective arte had been cast over it. If there was one thing the Ellinians could not afford to lose, it was their store of magical knowledge.

He pushed open the door, light spilling into his vision. Despite its burned exterior, the inside of the library still remained much the same as ever, if slightly deserted. The shelves of books still remained, but only a single fairy occupied the front desk, quietly reading a book of some sort.

She raised her head as he entered.

"Ah…good morning." the fairy mumbled. She hadn't expected anyone to be here after the Crimson Balrogs had arrived…

"Good morning to you, too." the man nodded. His lengthy hair hung behind his shoulders as he talked. "You wouldn't know where I can happen upon a book of hydroclastic reactions, would you?"

"Um…" She blinked questioningly for a minute before raising her hand. "Third shelf to the left…"

"Thank you." He bowed shortly, brushing some of his hair from his face, before walking in the mentioned direction, as she could do nothing but watch. She had not expected anyone to come here in the aftermath of the destruction, least of all an Elaesian.

He walked silently to the shelf and selected the book with a brief motion of his wrist, pulling it from its place on the shelf, and tucked it neatly under his arm. He then walked to the nearest table and sat down, his fingers deftly turning the pages. Lightning flashed in his eyes as he searched for the section he was looking for, oblivious to everything around him.

His eyes looked up for a moment and located a conveniently-placed stack of paper next to him; with an undignified motion of his wrist, he drew the paper closer to him and produced a pen from the accompanying inkpot. Globules of black splattered the desk as he wrote somewhat haphazardly, scribbling numbers and letters onto the page.

He almost didn't notice the footsteps coming closer until it was too late.

He raised his head, and at that moment, a tall, shrouded figure appeared in his field of view and drew out the chair opposite from him, a heavy book in his grip.

"Hey, Iggy." Rysdale Tales gave the ranger in front of him the faintest of looks before turning his attention back to his book.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Igzarion muttered. His voice sounded oddly blurred, as though he had recently sustained head injury of some sort.

"You don't sound too cheerful yourself." Tales replied bluntly, turning the page to copy another arcane reaction. He noticed- out of the corner of his eye- that there was a deep cut on Igzarion's right hand.

"I had an…incident." Igzarion muttered, turning his glassy gaze away from Tales' sharp eyes. He felt no need to go into detail about what had happened last night.

Unfortunately, the sniper was sharp enough to deduce what had happened in an instant. "Demon giving you trouble again?" he asked conversationally, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Yes." Igzarion laid open the book in front of him and traced a sharp line down the page with his finger. "It was much worse last night than any of the other times. Wasn't much fun."

"Yes, I heard." Tales returned the quill to the inkpot with a stabbing motion of his wrist. "You woke up Delinia and Natalia last night, from what they told me this morning."

Igzarion mumbled something under his breath and turned his attention to the dusty pages in front of him, unwilling to continue the conversation for the time being.

"Why are you here, anyway?" he finally mumbled, taking his eyes off the desk in front of him.

"Felt like a walk." The sniper redrew the quill pen and scribbled a brief sentence onto the parchment. "I haven't read these in years-"

"Wouldn't be able to tell." Igzarion muttered, casting a disdainful glance at the page of equations Tales had already scribbled.

"Thank you for the compliment, Iggy." Tales replied, somewhat coldly, as he finished the equation with a slightly forced motion of his wrist and folded the paper aside.

Silence hung between the two, Tales' face shadowed behind his book as Igzarion tried to do the same.

"It's Natalia." Igzarion finally admitted, letting his book fall to the side and revealing his sleep-weary eyes.

The sniper froze for a fraction of a second before he let his own book fall with a thud. "What?"

"She had a nightmare some days back." Igzarion admitted, rubbing at his eyes as though trying to cleanse them. "It never happened to her before-"

"A nightmare? Now?" Tales asked, a bit too sharply. His fingers rested dangerously on the table as his eyes flashed a brilliant blue underneath his glasses.

"It's nothing to be worried about, Rysdale." Igzarion muttered stubbornly, brushing aside the issue as fast as it had came. "You know how she is, what she's had to go through for the past few years. I wouldn't blame her-"

"Perhaps, but why now, of all times?" Tales repeated, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "It isn't natural. She's twenty years old already. She should have outgrown all that by now-"

"She's half-demon, Rysdale!" Igzarion snapped repeatedly. Thankfully, there was no one else to hear.

"And I suppose you go around wetting the bed every night as well, Iggy." Tales snapped, at which Igzarion's face tightened uncomfortably. "Something must have triggered the episode. Did something happen to her recently?"

"No, and I don't know!" Igzarion snapped, losing what little patience he had. "I told you, it was just a freakin' nightmare! I don't know any more about it than you do-"

"Lie." Tales said bluntly, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. "You would never have brought it up in the first place otherwise. Besides, Taiga is directly linked to your emotions. You and I both know that only a serious upset could have caused such a reaction similar to the one you had yesterday- and don't lie and tell me there's something that you care about more than your _sister." _He said the last word in a sardonic tone that hurt Igzarion's pride.

"Fine." Igzarion huffed, letting his breath out in a deep hiss. The papers on the table ruffled at the sudden breeze. "If you really must know, she had a nightmare in which she dreamed she was being attacked by someone."

"Pray tell, who might this 'someone' be?" Tales murmured, pressing his fingertips together, like the folding wings of a butterfly.

"It was me." Igzarion muttered, casting his gaze to the side, his face shadowed by his hair.

Tales opened his mouth a fraction of an inch before he closed it. "Unbelievable." he whispered, so softly that Igzarion almost didn't hear. "Unbelievable."

"What-" Igzarion began to say, catching the odd look on the sniper's face.

"That doesn't even make the least bit of bloody sense, Iggy." Tales said coldly, a blue spark now dancing between the fingers of his right hand. "She loves you. She idolizes you. She saved your life, for Goddess' sake. And you're telling me that she suddenly dreamed, out of nowhere, that you were attacking her?"

"That's what she said," Igzarion muttered, not turning his eyes upwards, "and I don't believe she was lying."

A rare expression flitted briefly across Tales' face before he silently put up the book once more, the pages fluttering in an unseen wind. Igzarion wasn't sure what to make of it; it seemed to be an unusual mix of disdain, disappointment, and apathy, if that was even possible.

If looks could kill, Igzarion would have sworn that Tales' eyes would have slowly pricked him to death with a poisoned needle.

The combination of Tales' shadowed face and his own self-despair brought words out of Igzarion's mouth that he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Why do you care about Natalia so much?!" he snapped, even managing to surprise himself with his own tone. It was indignant and somewhat protective- a voice he had never used before in his life.

He had never had anyone to be protective over in the first place.

Very slowly and painstakingly, Tales put down the book for the second time and gazed into Igzarion's face, their eyes meeting. Pupils of cold ice gazed into dark flame as both carefully scrutinized the other's face.

The latter thought he saw his friend's expression harden for a split moment before he calmly replied, "She's my friend, Iggy."

Another uncomfortable second of silence existed between the two before Tales raised his book once more, taking the greatest care not to show the slightest bit of relief that the conversation was over.

_Lie, _Igzarion mouthed silently, as the eyes of cold ice, hidden behind the spectacles, hurried across the book.

There was a slight movement as Tales lowered the book ever so slightly, his lenses dipping to the point of his nose, and as the poisonous barbs returned with a vengeance, the latter closed the book for the third and final time, a soft clap echoing across the empty library.

A moment of silence, a shuffle of the chair, and the two went their separate ways.

-----

"Fire Phoenix!" Zeraion Phoenix commanded, raising a clenched fist to the sapphire sky as red-white energy streamed from between his fingers.

There was a thunderous noise as a gust of heated wind swept the landscape, blowing several leaves off the trees in the background. Beads of sweat streamed down the boy's neck as a white mass of energy coalesced in the middle of the clearing and began to take the outline of a phoenix, brilliant bursts of light searing his eyes.

Exhausted, he released the magic, and there was a second bang as the white-hot energy exploded, sending him skidding backwards. He managed to keep his balance, although burns still covered a fairly large portion of his body.

Breathing heavily, Zeraion pulled himself towards the waterfall and plunged his head under the tide pool, closing his eyes as a wonderful sense of relief washed over him. He exhaled as he stood up, shaking water from his blonde hair.

He cast a sidelong glance at the large watercourse before turning resolutely around and facing the forest once more, drawing another blue-tinted stone from his pocket in preparation.

"Fire Phoenix!"

The air grew hot once more as energy erupted from his hand, the summoning arte taking effect as scions of mana and matter fused in midair. Determined not to send himself flying into the air once more, Zeraion closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, trying to distract himself from the intense heat and light.

He heard the phoenix screech once, loudly, before the magic released itself. Then he heard a loud explosion of energy and threw his arms in front of his face as a gust of fiery wind blew past him, sending a fierce, burning sensation shooting through his body.

Well, if _that _didn't count as progress, nothing else would.

Exhausted, he threw aside all restraint and simply jumped into the tide pool, the spray from the waterfall splashing wildly into his face. He could feel water seeping through his armor and into his clothes, but the invigorating feeling was worth it. He could dry his clothes later.

He let himself soak in the pleasantly cool water for a few minutes before pulling himself onto the bank, water streaming from his body. Passing a hand over himself, he muttered, "Inferno." There was a bright flash and a soft hiss as the water evaporated, leaving a faint cloud of steam in its wake.

Time caught him in its calm grip as he stared across the forests that surrounded him. The landscape which had once held so much beauty for him now seemed rather monotonous. He could practice his fusion artes, or maybe work on some spear maneuvers, but he had already done that so many times over.

He wished Gardner would tell him what to do, but the bowmaster was nowhere to be seen.

Zeraion exhaled and blew a strand of blonde hair from his eyes.

"Athos," he muttered, but there was no reply except for a quiet murmur. Zeraion's eyes narrowed in dismay; though he had normally been annoyed by the ancient bowmaster's constant jabs about his ability, he needed some companionship now more than ever.

"Athos!"

_There is no need for you to shout, dragon child. _He could feel the Abyssal Arund thrumming away on his back.

"Sorry." Zeraion swatted away an incoming fly in midair. "It's just…I'm really bored, and I need some company."

_You did a poor job begging me for companionship, Zeraion. _The ranger grimaced darkly as the spirit's rebuttal cut through the air. _If you are bored, I suggest practicing your fusion artes some more._

"Why did I even bother?" Zeraion muttered through clenched teeth as he strung the Abyssal Arund and aimed towards an empty patch of ground. "Arrow Blow!"

The normally-weak first-class arte shot forward and made contact with the ground in a shower of blue sparks, leaving a sizable depression in the earth. Without pausing, Zeraion launched into the second part of his attack, feeling energy surge through him. "Final Attack!"

There was a loud crackling noise as currents of orange-white energy burst from the air and wrapped around his arms like snakes; with a magnificent effort, Zeraion raised the bow and loosed the string, an orb of energy coalescing at its limbs.

The projectile, bolts and all, hurtled through the air and briefly arced upwards before slamming into the ground, throwing chunks of dirt into the air and kicking up a gigantic cloud of dust. When it cleared, a crater about ten times larger than the size of the original remained in the ground.

"Practicing's over." Zeraion muttered shortly, ignoring the discontent that radiated from Athos. Sheathing the Abyssal Arund back into his quiver, Zeraion raised his hand and clenched his fingers together. "Thunder Spear!"

A bright flash lit up the area as a shining lance appeared in the ranger's hand. Briefly, Zeraion noticed something odd; where previously his spear had been straight and symmetrical, the tip of the weapon was adorned with a curved blade of lightning, and several smaller blades stuck out at its base.

Deciding not to question this for now, Zeraion took the spear in both hands and carved a wide swath through the air, lunging forward as an iridescent shade of lightning lit up the air. Stepping to the side, he lunged forward with his right arm, forcing the curved point through the air as he impaled another imaginary enemy.

Closing his eyes and allowing his instinct to move him, Zeraion nimbly flicked his wrist forward as the spear followed in an abrupt sideways slash. Taking ahold of the long spear-shaft with both hands, he spun the spear in a counterclockwise death spiral about his body, rending aside anything that dared come near him.

"Thunder Lance!" he commanded, jabbing the spear upwards, its hilt and blade glowing with effervescent particles of lightning. The spear head exploded in midair, sending a column of lightning upwards from Zeraion's wrist. Stepping forward, Zeraion curved his wrist downward and stabbed upwards in a circular motion. "Impaling Heaven!"

A powerful burst of light erupted from the lance and rocketed briefly through the sky before dissipating, as Zeraion glared upwards, his blue pupils shining in the light. He felt energy flow through him, and as power surged through his veins, raised the lance for one last attack.

"Redemption!"

The curved head of the spear glowed brightly before Zeraion launched himself off the ground, his spear clenched tightly in his hands. As he spun through the air in a spiraling motion, he slashed the weapon in a circular stab, creating a tempest of electric bolts in midair that would have severely damaged anything had it been in range.

He landed deftly upon his feet and flicked his wrist, vanishing the lance into the air. Breathing heavily, Zeraion put a hand to his forehead and was slightly surprised to find it sweaty.

Normally cutting, Athos' voice was somewhat impressed. _Very nice, Zeraion._

"Hm." Zeraion did not give the courtesy of an answer, but instead walked towards the forest, the sound of footsteps on twigs slowly fading.

The forest seemed calmer than normal, Zeraion thought, as slivers of light dripped from the sky through the canopy. Normally, his footsteps would probably have alerted hordes of hungry lizard-beasts to his presence, but nothing more dangerous than a passing butterfly or bird showed its head as he walked.

He couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

Turning off to the side amidst a grove of tall oak trees, he decided to visit Selena's statue once more- although he wanted the peace and quiet, his heart fluttered slightly as he wondered if Grace would be there.

_Phoenix, I'm afraid we may never see each other again after this…_

His pulse beating indignantly in his veins, Zeraion pushed his way through the forest, wondering if he would ever see Grace Raizen's face with her lovely sky-blue eyes upon it ever again.

As he entered the clearing with Selena's elegant, flowing marble figure adorning the cliffside, he realized he was not alone.

Rathias Gardner was kneeling in front of the statue's base, his eyes closed as he laid something on the ground. He seemed to be whispering something, his palms closed as his amber hair fluttered in the breeze. Aetas Termina rested upon his back, a ray of light falling upon it and illuminating its crimson gaze.

Zeraion's first impulse was to get Gardner's attention, but common sense quickly prevailed as he realized that would lead to more trouble than he wanted, so he merely stood at the edge of the clearing and respectfully watched from a distance. The bowmaster seemed to have made no indication that he recognized Zeraion's presence, his head bowed to the ground and his face shadowed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Zeraion could feel his limbs aching in protest, but he dared not move for fear Gardner would see or hear him. He remained quiet as Gardner finally looked upwards and seemed to finish whatever he was saying.

In a slow, unhurried motion, the Bowmaster got to his feet and stood in front of the elf's statue, silently eyeing the ground he'd knelt at before.

Taking a deep breath, Zeraion stepped into the clearing, his foot audibly breaking a twig. However, Gardner did not stir, not even when Zeraion walked completely across the ground and was inches away from him. He seemed as lifeless as the figure of stone that towered above him.

Feeling either very brave or very suicidal, Zeraion swallowed and touched a hand to his teacher's shoulder.

Slowly, Gardner's neck swiveled as he turned to face his student, and Zeraion was rather taken aback at what he saw. Though he normally avoided catching the bowmaster's piercing gaze, he was surprised to see that Gardner's cobalt-blue pupils seemed less fierce, less lively now. There was a sort of tired air around the man, as though he were ill.

"Good day, Zeraion." Gardner's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

"Um…hi, Gardner." Zeraion was briefly at a loss for words. "I…I was just, you know, taking a walk, because I was tired, and I came here…"

Though it wasn't the most convincing excuse he'd ever thought of, it definitely sounded a lot better than "I was stalking you."

Gardner merely raised his left eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "I see."

Zeraion found the courage to steal a glance at the ground. He could see that the bowmaster had laid a wreath of some sort on the ground, a delicate red ribbon twined around its leafy branches. There was also a note attached to the wreath, but Zeraion could not read Gardner's minute handwriting standing up.

His gaze flitting upwards, Zeraion noticed Gardner was following his line of sight. Slightly embarrassed, he turned his gaze away, but Gardner made no response except for a heavy sigh as he raked his fingers across his forehead.

"I…I'm sorry." he muttered, his eyes directed towards the ground as red crept up his cheeks.

Gardner turned to his student with a slightly surprised expression. "What on earth are you apologizing for, Phoenix?"

"W-well, obviously, I came at a bad time." Zeraion murmured, jerking his head towards the wreath.

Gardner's dark blue eyes flitted towards the wreath as well before they turned back to Zeraion. "It's not your fault, Zeraion." he murmured, quietly folding his hands behind his back.

Zeraion noticed this was the first time Rathias Gardner had ever called him by his first name.

He tried to open his mouth and say something, but the words wouldn't come- but then again, what _could _he possibly have said in this situation?

For an uncomfortable minute, neither teacher nor student spoke, but rather gazed sadly at the wreath. There was no sound safe for the light fluttering of Gardner's pristine-white cape.

When Rathias Gardner finally did speak, it was with a soft, regretful tone that Zeraion had never heard before.

"She would have been thirty-one today."

"Who?" Zeraion asked, without thinking. Gardner's eyes met his, and he flinched, but the bowmaster's eyes merely returned to the wreath.

"Aislinn, my younger sister." Gardner answered quietly, his ponytail drifting in the breeze.

"Your-" The words were hanging on the tip of Zeraion's tongue, but he could not speak them. He simply could not believe that Rathias Gardner, the legendary bowmaster standing before him, could ever have had a sibling, much less a younger one, at any point. It was just too out of place. Besides, there had been no mention of a younger sister whatsoever in the diary.

Gardner met Zeraion's look of astonishment with a somber expression of his own. "There is a saying that we never realize how much it hurts to lose something you have never really had…until it is too late."

Silently, Gardner reached into his pocket and drew out a small jeweled locket, which he opened with a calm, deliberate motion. Quietly, his eyes closed, he drew the thin photograph from inside the locket and gave it to Zeraion.

Zeraion nervously took it and stared down at the picture in his hands.

He was looking at a picture of a very young girl, probably no more than three or four years old. She was wearing a white dress that reached to her knees and stockings, the edges accented with the tiniest amount of frill. Her mouth was open in a wide laughing smile; what few baby teeth she did have were perfect. Her hair was very long, reaching down to the back of her legs, although it was perfectly combed and brushed. Two beautiful ribbons of red were wrapped in her hair. Her eyes were bright, a precious shade of chocolate, and she looked so alive that it was as though she would burst from the picture any moment.

For a moment, Zeraion thought he was looking at an angel, so innocent and untarnished was the girl before him. He wouldn't have been surprised even if she had been growing wings and a halo.

He noticed that she was clinging playfully to something off to the side of the picture; with some surprise, he realized it was her older brother's arm.

"It was her fourth birthday at the time, I believe." Gardner said softly, taking the picture from Zeraion's fingers and eyeing it regretfully before kneeling down and laying it on top of the wreath.

Zeraion could not say anything, and Rathias went on. "Aislinn was born some time after I became an archer. She grew up idolizing me; I could never recall a day when she wasn't underfoot, begging me to play with her, to take care of her, or simply spend time with her. She was bright, young, and talented; at an age when most children were burping up milk, she was already speaking words and entire sentences."

His tone became much darker, and Zeraion could sense it; unconsciously, he stepped backwards a pace.

"I resented it, Zeraion. I was nine at the time, so young and inexperienced. I couldn't appreciate the gift that the Goddess herself had bestowed on me. I wanted to be a Bowmaster! I wanted fame, power, glory! I wanted my name to be spoken with as much reverence as Athena's herself! And so, I embarked on the most foolish and irrational decision I have ever made.

"I rejected her, Phoenix. I scorned her in the vain pursuit of power. What did my little sister matter, when it meant another hour of training, another few thousand mesos to spend, another few steps closer to my ultimate goal? Every time she wanted to play with me, to read her a story, I couldn't. There were times when I simply ran away, to get away from her constant attention and overbearing affection.

"Of course, I loved her." Gardner whispered, seemingly forgetting that Zeraion was next to him. "I loved her possibly more than all the treasures in the world, but I never truly loved her as the younger sibling she was. Though she was my own flesh and blood, I could never bring myself to give her more than a hug or a kiss. Such simple, childish things, like playing with her ball, or reading her a bedtime story, that I never did for her…"

Zeraion couldn't respond. It was as if the world had tumbled out from under its feet and swallowed him from the inside out. In a matter of minutes, Rathias Gardner had suddenly been reduced from an infallible, supreme being of knowledge and power to being the worst older brother in the world. The knowledge both shocked and scared him at once, delivering a strange sensation that trickled from the back of his neck to his feet. It was something akin to finding out religion was a sham, or that the world didn't exist.

Gardner turned his face upwards, and Zeraion could see- from a tiny ray of light piercing through the treetops- that there was a single tear glistening in the Bowmaster's left eye.

"It happened when she was four and a half, a day after Christmas." he whispered, his voice quieter than the wind. "I had just given her a storybook for her present, and she had given me a bracelet. I regretfully admit that it was one of the few occasions I spent time with her. I still remember her eyes, Zeraion. I remember her voice when she saw my present. I saw how happy she was, and I wished she could have stayed like that forever."

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips, barely visible- but Zeraion noticed it.

He went on, bowing his face to the wreath. "I woke up at about six in the morning, determined as usual to travel to the Ant Tunnel and start my training. What I didn't realize was that Aislinn wanted me to read the book to her. I have no doubt she could have read it herself- at her age, as I have said, her intelligence was remarkable- but I suppose she wanted to feel the joy of having her older brother read it to her…as I so heartlessly refused to do on so many other occasions.

"Somehow, while I was in Sleepywood, she grew tired of my absence and wanted me to come back. I was later told she stood at the window for nearly a half hour screaming my name throughout Henesys. When that didn't work, she went out- all by herself- into the snow to track me down, wearing nothing except the dress she had received from our parents."

His face showed nothing, but there was suddenly pain in his voice.

"That afternoon, a freak blizzard struck Henesys."

Zeraion's eyes flickered briefly to Aislinn, still clad in the beautiful white dress with the red ribbons in her hair.

"As it turned out, when the storm arrived at Sleepywood, it had lost most of its power, and so I naturally assumed that nothing except a light flurry had occurred. When I finally returned home, I entered the gates to see over a foot of snow blanketing the village, and my little sister gone from the house."

He closed his eyes, and the tear quivered once before falling, a single pearl of sorrow in those eyes of lightning-blue.

"It took them a few hours to find her- and she had been buried under several inches of drift. She was still alive, but barely. Her face was as white as the snow, and she wasn't breathing. I remember seeing her, and I knew her face would never smile for me ever again."

His eyes regretfully stared at the wreath. "They say she was found still clutching the storybook I had given her in her arms."

Zeraion said nothing, just staring quietly at the wreath as he twisted his hands together.

"She clung to life for just a few more days." Rathias murmured softly, his hair briefly shadowing his eyes. "Her frail body, having being subjected to the elements, had been ravaged by frostbite. She was suffering of hypothermia."

Zeraion turned away slightly, and Gardner touched a hand lightly to his forehead.

"Her last day was painful, both for her and for me. She kept crying my name deliriously, even as the pain from frostbite ran through her. I tried to tell her I was here; I tried to read the book to her, but she couldn't recognize me. She had gone into shock.

"After that, pneumonia quickly set in. Her lungs filled with fluid and she could barely breathe, let alone speak. She was shaking violently, coughing up blood, and it was all I could do to hold her down. I told her how sorry I was, but I don't think she ever heard, so much pain she was suffering. She passed away in her sleep the next day."

He brushed something from his face, but Zeraion could not tell whether it was a strand of hair or a second tear.

"I wanted to know why, Zeraion. I wanted to know why somebody as pure and innocent as her, someone who had never done anyone any harm, should have to had suffered as she did. I wished a thousand times that the Goddess would strike me down and let her live afterwards, but fate would not be swayed. For the rest of my life, I lived with the guilt knowing I caused my beloved sister's death."

"Then…why did you…" Zeraion whispered hollowly. He could not bear to hear any more, so great was his mental upheaval of Gardner's image.

"I had nothing left, Zeraion." Gardner murmured. "Nothing, except my once-noble dream of becoming a bowmaster. I could easily have reached that goal, and I did, but I knew I could never truly ascend to that level, knowing my title would be tainted with my sister's blood. Several times, I wished I could die, so that I could tell her how sorry I was.

"That was why I learned Final Attack." Gardner murmured, his ponytail drifting in the breeze. "I knew the dangers of it, and I was prepared with the knowledge that should I ever perish, I would be with Aislinn once more, and I could rest knowing I had avenged her with my own life. And several times, I nearly succeeded. I wanted to die.

"During this time, I could never have been more grateful to Keiga Seles. On more than one occasion, he saved me from myself, so to speak. He managed to convince me that I should continue towards my goal, and not throw my life around in vain. In the end, he finally convinced me, and I now believe, that Aislinn would have wanted me to achieve my goal as well…bless her."

He breathed out deeply, a wayward leaf drifting past his face.

"But above all, I wanted my sister back, and I would have been prepared to slaughter thousands in my own name if it meant seeing her on this earth once more. So, during this time, I made what I consider the second biggest blunder of my life forthwith.

"I studied necromancy, Zeraion." For a moment, Gardner's eyes showed shame, as though he were the twelve year-old boy he had once been weeping over his sister's deathbed.

"You what?" Zeraion blinked, taken aback by this new revelation.

Gardner sighed. "Though I never quite achieved the…aptitude that Isentryx would soon demonstrate, I was particularly enamored with the idea of a blood transmutation. Here, at last, was a way to alchemically isolate the soul of a being and summon it from the netherworld- or, at least the theory goes. In truth, the whole thing is much more complicated than that, but at its very essence, that is what a blood transmutation is- to use one's blood to restore one to life."

"So, why didn't you bring her back to life?" Zeraion asked, almost conversationally.

Gardner turned towards him, and Zeraion flinched at the bowmaster's cold stare. "It would have been an abomination. For one thing, I was neither mage nor alchemist, so I could not possibly have mastered the complex equations needed to control an arte of such magnitude. Furthermore, I would not truly be bringing her back, as I realized, but merely pulling her soul to earth from rest…a fate much worse than could ever be imagined, and I could never have done that to her after what I had already done."

Zeraion swallowed past the lump in his throat. "So…is it possible to bring someone back from the dead?"

Gardner somberly eyed the wreath. "No arte can truly bring back the dead, Zeraion. Though a blood transmutation is the most practical solution, it is not truly the same as having that person back with you once more. It would be a violation of magic to the extreme, and I trust you will not pursue it, lest it be too late."

"But…" Quickly, Zeraion felt his last hope fading. "If you were, somehow, able to reunite somebody's soul with their body, then is there a possibility that, maybe, they could-"

He watched Gardner's face slowly harden, his features creasing darkly as he considered several possible answers.

"There is a theory," he finally said, cautiously, "that if you could somehow alchemically fuse a soul back into the body, and sustain it there, then yes, it could be plausible that that person would return…but the mana required to trigger and control such a reaction would be immense, several times the amount needed for any arte known to man. A soul is a powerful thing, Zeraion, and is not something to be lightly trifled with."

Zeraion felt his heart rise and fall like the tide. So, then, there was still a hope that Grace could be saved. A very, very, small hope…but someday, if he could defeat Gault, he could find a way.

There just had to be a way.

Somehow.

"You may be wondering why I am telling you all this, Zeraion," Gardner said, jerking the ranger from his reverie, "but I say this merely because I do not want you to make the same mistakes I have made. Though the pursuit of power is great indeed, all the power in the world cannot bring back those we love and cherish. Always remember that."

"I will." Zeraion nodded solemnly, and at that Gardner turned to leave.

He had never really noticed it before, but he saw that Rathias Gardner's hair was tied with a red ribbon.

-----

"Power Strike!"

The sword cut through the air like scissors through paper, its edge rushing through the sky as though cutting the very fabric of the air itself. Red and orange flames leaped from its surface, sending brilliant tongues of flame through the air.

"Power Guard!"

As one blade of red sailed through the air, its silver counterpart stood firm and blocked the blow where it stood, starlike flares exploding from the point of contact. Both blades' masters stood firm, one struggling to overpower the other as the other strove to prevent him from doing so.

"Slash Blast!"

The first sword drew itself back in a whirlwind of heat, and its counterpart moved without hesitation to take its place. A brilliant axe of blue charged sideways in a spiral motion, icy wind trailing from its jeweled haft. With unnatural speed and precision, the axe met the silver sword halfway to its mark, energy pulsing with each contact.

"Rush!"

The silver sword suddenly broke free of its seal and charged forward in an invisible thrust, striking its mark. A few sparks lit the air as the blade slashed into steel armor, barely missing the vulnerable skin underneath. With a shout of mingled fury and surprise, the axe stopped and changed direction in midair as it hurtled towards its master's attacker.

"Power Guard…" With an almost bored tone, Aslan Seles neatly blocked Ark Wolfen's incoming charge and slid the gleaming brand into the sheath on his back in one flawless motion. "You're going to need to attack faster if you want to win this duel, Wolfen."

"Yeah, well…I'm not used to fighting with two hands!" Ark snapped irritably, lowering the Twin Reavers. "I mean, I could use either one of these fine by themselves, but both at once-"

"You're doing pretty good, Ark." Ryden put in, although it was more of a rote line than an actual compliment- Ark's armor bore several deep scratches from the Paladin's Heaven's Gate by now.

"For f-" Out of frustration, Ark raised the Blood Reaver and aimed a strike at Marron's back, but all it got him was a painful burst of recoil as the sword beat back the axe as though it were nothing more than a stick.

"You'll just have to get used to it." Ryden said, standing off calmly to the side as dark hair obscured his eyes.

"Yes, Wolfen." Marron's voice was tinged with poison. "It isn't that hard to fight with two blades, you know…Just think of them as extensions of your arms."

"Oh, shut up!" Ark snapped, a bit of unnecessary rage boiling through him. He knew he probably shouldn't have lost his temper, but his dismay at not being able to use these legendary weapons as well as he should have greatly irked him. "What do you know about fighting with two swords? You've been using two-handed blades from the start!"

It was the wrong thing to say. Despite the fact that Ark had never really been intimidated by Marron before, he felt his insides clench as his former classmate gave him an icy stare to match the Blood Reaver.

"I know a bit, Wolfen." Marron said with deathly calm, as Ryden appeared somewhat interested. "Here, let me show you…"

He motioned for the Soul Reaver, and Ark, apparently at a loss for words, handed it to him. As soon as the flamberge left Ark's hand, though, Marron dropped the heavy sword on his foot, much to Ryden's amusement.

"Stupid son of a…!" he swore loudly, hobbling on one foot in a comic fashion as he struggled to keep his balance. "How in the Goddess' name do you lift this thing, Ark? It weighs a freakin' ton!"

Ark didn't answer, but his eyes flickered to his mother's ring, still gleaming on his finger, and he dimly wondered in the back of his mind if she had put a spell of some sort on it. True, she herself was a swordswoman and didn't know much magic of her own, but perhaps her husband…

He shook his head and turned his eyes back to Marron, who, by now, had managed to wrest a red-tinted katana from a passing crusader. After a large show of argument, the crusader finally relented and allowed the Paladin to take the sword, though he made a rude hand gesture from behind as he left.

Marron pretended not to have noticed, taking the katana in his left hand and the large Heaven's Gate in his right. For a moment, Ark couldn't help but be impressed- despite the latter blade's huge size, Marron apparently had the strength to lift it with one hand.

"Let's go, Wolfen." Aslan murmured, eyeing his opponent as he prepared to strike.

His fingers clenching around the ice-blue Blood Reaver, Ark watched Marron charge forward in a rush of crimson and silver. With the Soul Reaver gone, he found he could enjoy a greater degree of flexibility, and he blocked the Paladin's first two or three blows with relative ease.

However, as the duel progressed, Ark found he was making less and less offensive headway as he found himself interrupted by a sword stab or slash every few seconds. His forehead wrinkled- apparently, Marron had somehow found the time to practice with two blades, so proficient were his movements. It was difficult to believe that the blonde-haired swordsman who had once fled at the sight of a mere red drake was dueling him at this level now…

Determined to turn the battle in his favor, Ark swung the Blood Reaver upwards and commanded, "Sovereign Gale!" There was a rush as a burst of icy wind seemed to flake off the edge of the axe and fly towards the Paladin with deadly velocity. Undaunted, Marron crossed his two swords together and blocked the arcane assault inches from his face, apparently unharmed.

"Is that all you've got?" Aslan taunted as he lunged forward with the katana, missing Ark's side by a couple of uncomfortable inches. Ark could hear Ryden calling something from the side, but he was too focused on the battle to listen properly.

He found an opening and lunged forward, the ice-blue edge of the axe cleaving effortlessly through the air. Using the Heaven's Gate, Marron blocked it, though Ark's next sideswipe forced him back down a little. Determined not to lose the opportunity, Ark spun on his heel and went into a spin kick, aiming at the swordsman's side.

He saw the Paladin's eyes widen briefly before the crimson-tinted katana stopped his heel from making contact, but the damage was done- with a level of agility unmatched by his previous axe, Ark carved his wrist through the air and slammed the Blood Reaver into Marron's right shoulder.

Marron's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards, the swords slipping from his grip somewhat. There was a large rent in his shoulder plate, some amount of blood seeping out from the wound. Ark almost felt pity for the swordsman as he struggled with the pain, trying to keep his balance. He waited a bit too long, though, for in the next instant, Marron uttered "Revitalize!", closing the wound on his shoulder.

Ark's expression hardened. _Damn him and his healing artes…Never mind. I'll try to combo him again or something. _He lunged forward, this time trying for a low sweeping slash, but Marron caught the incoming axe blade between his two swords, trapping them in a deadlock.

Ark struggled fiercely against the crossed blades, but could not budge the swordsman's stance an inch. Briefly, he looked up into Aslan's face and saw many things at once; pain, excitement, trepidation, and unbelievably, even a little bit of fear.

"Watch this, Wolfen." he whispered, his voice cutting through the air sharper than any sword.

He uncrossed the blades and swung them through the air, one after another. Ark blocked the first only to have the second nick him on the shoulder plate, hard enough to crack the metal and leave a large bruise. The flow of battle quickly turned as the Paladin charged with almost animalistic fury, lunging and slashing the swords through the air so close that they would have crippled Ark had he not blocked them.

Ark raised the Blood Reaver above his head to block a downward cleave from Marron, and as they locked gaze for the second time, behind those frenzied crescent eyes, he could almost see Keiga Seles' face.

He suddenly felt a warmth coming from the ring on his hand, and felt it constrict around his finger almost as though it were alive. Speechless, Ark felt the warmth move through his wrist, up his arm, and through his whole body, encouraging him, guiding him, fighting for him…

A sudden thought flashed through his mind as words put themselves in his mouth, and without waiting or questioning, he repeated the cry:

"_Eissig Falchion!"_

He drew the axe back and forced it through the air in one desperate thrust, and the air seemed to explode around him as a cannon-like blast of icy wind and flak erupted from the point of the Blood Reaver, colliding with Marron at point-blank range. The Paladin didn't even have time to make a sound as he was thrown off his feet and tossed violently through the air, hitting the ground with a mangled thud.

Ark lowered the axe and breathed heavily, feeling adrenaline rush through him. He had not known that technical arte before…and yet, somehow, he had managed to call upon it and cast it without any outside aid. Could this possibly be the work of his parents, too?

There was the sound of armor creaking as Marron painfully staggered to his feet, his swords forgotten on the ground. Blood trickled down his face and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, making him look worse than ever.

"Good…good job, Wolfen." he coughed, sheathing the Heaven's Gate and picking up the crimson sword. "I've got to return this now…"

With the little dignity he could muster, he walked off the field, leaving a bewildered Ark and an impressed Ryden to themselves.

"That…was…amazing." Ryden said breathlessly, running up to Ark and clapping a hand to his back. Ark nearly felt his knees buckle from the gesture- despite what he'd thought, the arte had actually ended up draining quite a bit of energy from him. "How'd you do it?"

Quietly, Ark met Ryden's gaze with a blank expression of his own. "Honestly, Ryden, I…I don't know."

-----

Zeraion Phoenix brushed water from his forehead, droplets of water flying from his hair and reflecting light as they well.

He pulled himself onto the shore of the waterfall's tide pool and thoroughly toweled himself off. Despite the fact that he could have used Inferno, he didn't want to risk burning himself- but he knew he would be in for hell if he put on armor while he was still wet.

After scouring himself for what seemed like the hundredth time in the row, he pulled on a shirt and shorts and strapped his hauberk on over his undergarments. Of his two sets of robes, he chose sapphire over emerald today, the blue color reflecting the deep water as he stared at it.

He snapped his fingers and watched as a small burst of sparks burst from his fingertips, marveling at the effect. Years earlier, he would have given his life just to be able to summon flame at his every whim, like all the Rangers did, but now, it just seemed monotonous.

He sighed- this whole mess had really changed him, whether he had wanted it to or not.

The Abyssal Arund waited for him at the edge of the tide pool, its blackened limbs glistening peacefully in the sunlight. He neatly slid the bow into his quiver and ran his hand through his hair one more time before reaching into his pockets and drawing out a summoning stone.

"Fire Phoenix."

He raised the stone into the air with a ready stance, and he closed his eyes as a vortex of flame, wind, and light appeared into being in front of him, casting a glow around the surrounding landscape as heated wind blew into his face. Concentrating fiercely, Zeraion almost swore he saw the outline of the phoenix flash brightly behind his closed eyelids before the magic broke, leaving him burnt and exhausted, as usual.

So close, and yet so far…

He felt a slight bit of resentment for not having mastered the technique by now, but put the thought out of his mind- Fire Phoenix was a Bowmaster's technique, after all, and though he may have had ample experience with Final Attack, that still wasn't a substitute for hard practice, as he very well knew by now.

…_dammit._

There was no shortcut to greatness, as Rathias Gardner had already said- just blood, guts, and no glory.

He felt the cool sensation of the summoning stones against his skin, like child's marbles.

"Fire Phoenix!"

The energy was drained from his body as fast as it came, the stone blazing in his hand as he struggled with the summoning arte once more. Flashes of fire and light blazed in his closed eyes as he struggled to maintain it for _just one _more second-

-and then it was gone.

"Damn it!" He clenched his fist angrily, so hard his knuckles turned white. "Why can't I…"

A single droplet of perspiration beaded from his forehead and his the grass with an inaudible drip.

_You should stop being so hard on yourself. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Every day, I trained feverishly in my teenage years in hope that I would learn the techniques of the Bowmaster and fulfill my responsibility as one of the Divine Children._

"And what happened to _you?" _Zeraion muttered, somewhat mutinously.

_I happened to die a rather early death._

"You're not dead yet." Zeraion grumbled under his breath, sliding his fingers into the summoning stone bag once more.

_Yet._

-----

The rest of the day quickly passed into night with little deviation from the usual. As always, Zeraion ended up spending the rest of the day killing off invisible enemies with Thunder Spear. He almost wished Gault was here, then he could really give the bastard a piece of his mind- but common sense stopped him for a rare moment. He wanted to get revenge so badly, yet he knew in the back of his head he wasn't strong enough yet. He wanted to believe otherwise, but there was no other way.

_Dammit, _he cursed, blowing a stream of pent-up breath into the air.

His stomach growled and he suddenly realized he hadn't eaten anything for a good few hours. Gazing about the landscape and taking stock, he immediately saw bushes full of berries and fruit trees laden with pearly, colorful bounty. He was about to run over and eat his fill when he suddenly remembered he didn't know if they were poisonous or not.

He bit his tongue and muttered something under his breath, walking slowly to the nearest tree and reaching his fingers towards a large, succulent, yellow-orange fruit, its skin glistening in the sunset. It looked so good…and one bite certainly wouldn't kill him…

"Unless there's something in your bowels that needs cleaning, I'd suggest not eating that, Phoenix."

Zeraion spun around and saw the tall figure of Rathias Gardner standing behind him, the wingtips of his Shinebow reflecting the setting sun. The lively look had returned to his eyes, although Zeraion could still sense a lingering pain in the man's expression.

"Uh…thanks." Zeraion muttered, jerking his hand back. "I'll try to remember that next time…"

"Good." Gardner turned away, letting his eyes travel briefly over the majestic waterfall. "If you are hungry, I would suggest going back and resting for a while. I can whip up something in a few minutes if you're patient…"

He turned back and walked away, his ivory-colored robes trailing over the grass. Slightly bemused, Zeraion shot the fruit tree a poisonous look before catching his bearings and following after the bowmaster.

He threw himself onto his bed- or cot, rather- and watched as Gardner turned his back and excised a machete-like knife from the drawer, chopping something up into tiny bits. Zeraion tried to read the bowmaster's expression, but could not glean anything from his near-lifeless expression.

Could it be, Zeraion mused, that somehow Gardner felt unnerved- even embarrassed- at having revealed such a private scion of his past life to his student? He couldn't tell from Gardner's expression- he never could- but it certainly seemed possible.

He turned his face away and stared up into the ceiling of the dim room, wondering just how many years of hidden sorrow were tucked away behind those deadly, calm eyes of cobalt-blue.

"Inferno." The stove ignited with a bright flash, and Gardner turned his attention back to his student, his long crimson-tied hair swinging dangerously close to the flame. "Is there anything you'd like to discuss, Phoenix?"

"Not…particularly." Zeraion continued to give the ceiling his attention. "I was just…practicing."

"Hm." Zeraion could feel the bowmaster's eyes cutting into him. "Be ever vigilant, Phoenix."

Zeraion bit his tongue. "I'm sorry. About your sister, I mean-"

Gardner silenced him with a wave of his hand. "It is not your fault. If any, the blame falls on my shoulders alone."

"Why did you tell me?" Zeraion asked, running a hand through his hair.

Gardner sighed deeply. "You would have found out eventually, Zeraion…as I am sure you would have." His gaze flickered to the diary on the shelf, and Zeraion felt a tiny pulse of indignation burst in his veins. "In the end, I suppose it would not have done anyone any good if I kept that information to myself…as I have done for the past thirty-some years."

Zeraion leaned his head back and saw a glimmer of jade through the rays of the sunset.

"Hey, Gardner…" he whispered.

The bowmaster raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Zeraion slid off the cot and took something off the shelf. "Care for a game of chess?"

He could have sworn that he saw a trace of amusement for the first time in the elder bowman's eyes. "So be it, Zeraion." he said, as the pieces came out.

He still lost spectacularly, but as Gardner dealt the winning blow, he said, "Excellent game, Phoenix."

He couldn't tell whether it was spoken with sarcasm, pride, satisfaction, or a true Rathias Gardner-style mix of them all.

-----

The sky was black over Henesys.

Destruction and death reigned over the peaceful lands of what had once been the bowman city, as the rogue demons of yesteryear launched their full-out assault upon the humans and elves who were now fighting so valiantly to defend their home.

Nothing was left untouched as the demons ravaged the plains of Bera. Balrogs of all shapes and sizes flew through the sky and stomped across the ground, fiery death in their eyes. Sword-sharp fangs and knife-blade claws rived the air constantly as the sound of bodies hitting the ground filled the blackened air.

United as one, warriors, magicians, thieves, and bowmen attacked fiercely against the incoming wave of Balrogs. Bowmen and magicians loosed brilliant storms of lightning, fire, and ice exploded through the air, meeting the demons in midair. The warriors and thieves fought just as valiantly on the ground, blades and knives flashing through the air as one demon after the other crumpled.

Through it all, four stood- the four that had been fated to destroy the ancient scourge at last, once and for all.

Zeraion Phoenix stood atop the burning plains, the Abyssal Arund in his hand. An entire legion of elven archers were stationed behind him, their bows at the ready.

"Let's go!" he commanded, raising his bow to the sky.

At his command, a storm of fiery bolts and golden arrows exploded from the group behind him, meeting the Balrogs coming towards them with deadly results. Yet, for the bowmen's speed and skill, they could do little against the sheer number advantage that the demons enjoyed.

Zeraion raised the bow to his shoulder and drew back the string. "Dragon Pulse!"

Brilliant gold-white energy gathered at the front of his bow for a moment before a gigantic bolt of dragon-shaped energy rushed forward and barreled through the Balrogs that were coming at them. The attack effectively punched a hole through their formation, leaving what survived open and vulnerable.

"Inferno Strafe!" Zeraion roared without flinching, his hair flying past his shoulders as he unleashed the arte. A succession of four gigantic spheres of flame arced through the air and collided with the ground, throwing pieces of unfortunate Balrog through the air.

Zeraion turned back, his face streaked with urgency. "Stay back!" he commanded to the archers behind him, before he clenched his fist and snapped, "Thunder Spear!" A brilliant bolt of lightning lit up the landscape as the curved javelin materialized in his hand, its edge bursting with arcane energy.

Lunging forward even as deadly bolts of magic flew past him, he launched himself straight into the heart of a command of Balrogs, taking them by surprise. The lance spun and cut through the air with deadly efficiency, every motion of his arms taking another life as he simultaneously attacked and defended to the best of his abilities.

"Radiant End!" he bellowed, a trail of iridescent light following his spear as he slammed it forward into a small group of Balrogs. The weapon created a temporal shockwave as it burst through the air, culminating in a localized explosion on impact and sending the Balrogs limply through the sky.

Not pausing to falter, Zeraion drew out the Abyssal Arund, and defying the laws of physics, raised the spear to his bow and drew back the string, both bow and spear glowing white. Propelled by sheer magic, the spear vaulted several thousand feet through the air before landing with a chaotic explosion nearly a mile away, sending destruction through the opposing side's forces.

Pausing to brush perspiration from his forehead, Zeraion shot a despairing glance at the sky, where the Balrogs were still raining destruction on them from above. _I need to get up in the air…_

Drawing something from his pocket, he clenched his fist and roared, "Fire Phoenix!"

With a brilliant burst of flame, the large phoenix materialized in front of its summoner, its wings folded as it pecked the ground. Without losing any time, Zeraion swung himself onto the gigantic phoenix's back and dug his heels into its sides. "Up!" he commanded.

The great bird needed no further encouragement as it soared through the sky, its wings trailing brilliant flame as it soared through the air. Raising the bow and eyeing his targets, Zeraion closed his eyes and gathered himself. "Omega Crush Rain!"

Fire and lightning coalesced in midair before he sent a spiraling helix of energy into the sky, its tail disappearing amongst the clouds. The demons had a second's warning before a sudden stream of fire-gold bolts poured forth from the sky like rain. The burnt, twisted bodies of several Balrogs fell to the ground as Zeraion reaved through the sky, shooting targets in midair with unerring accuracy while diving and corkscrewing through the air to avoid attacks on his part.

Seeing a large troop of Balrogs about to breach their frontlines, he turned the phoenix downward and dived, his bow raised.

The people on the ground barely had time to catch Zeraion diving through the air, a trail of flame exploding behind him, before he dive-bombed straight into the group of Balrogs on the ground below. A warhead-like explosion rocked the landscape, sending bits of dirt and demon through the air.

Zeraion emerged from the wreckage relatively unharmed, minor cuts and burns streaking his face. Swiftly, he made his way to a copper-haired, almond eyed elf unleashing arrows from her bow with lightning speed. Her face was streaked with injuries as well, but she fought valiantly. It took Zeraion a few moments to realize he was staring at a very young Athena Pierce.

"What is our status?" he asked her, his shoulder-length hair fluttering in the acrid breeze.

Athena briefly cast a look about the landscape before stripping the worn string from her Golden Arund and tying a new length of cord around it. "It isn't spectacular." she admitted, tossing her head so that her hair danced about the back of her knees. "We've suffered some losses, Eisandil. If we don't repulse them soon, there's no telling how long we will survive."

Zeraion shook his head sorrowfully. "We've already exhausted all the possible forces we can. Unless you're suggesting sending thirteen-year olds into the fray, there's not much else we can do."

"My sister's thirteen." Athena snapped, shooting down an incoming Balrog with a burst of wildfire from her bow.

Zeraion raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Well, you and Reneai…are special." he whispered, gently touching her burnt cheek with his fingers. "May the stars watch over you, Pieralasca."

"The same to you as well." Athena said briskly, turning away from the bowmaster as she set her sights on another group of demons.

Zeraion breathed deeply as he stared across the bleeding sky. It wasn't right, to have the king's daughters themselves fighting at the frontlines…but there was nothing more he could do. They all had to work as hard as they could to stop this menace. Everybody knew that.

"Rindelasca!" he heard somebody shout, and Zeraion turned to see a woman running towards him. She was young, probably no older than in her mid-twenties. She had blonde, slightly curled hair that hung towards her waist. A skull-tipped Dimon Wand was clutched between her fingers. She was wearing armor-robes of white and a matching cape. Her eyes of crimson were riveted on him.

"Linnares." Zeraion managed a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"

Her face was deadly serious. "Rindelasca…we need you now." she whispered, seizing his hand with surprising strength. "The situation's desperate."

"How desperate?" he returned urgently, yanking his hand from her iron grip.

"Razier's appeared." she whispered, a tiny trace of fear in her eyes as she pressed closer to him.

Zeraion's face paled as he pulled the woman into a hug. "No." he whispered, his voice shaking. "It…it can't be…"

"My love, it _is." _The woman's eyes were pleading, desperate. "He's powerful, too powerful, and he's coming closer and closer to the front lines as we speak. It isn't battle anymore, Rindelasca. It's slaughter."

"He won't arrive." Zeraion muttered, more to reassure himself than her. "What about Darius…and Valter?"

"They're both dead, Rindelasca." A soft tear ran down her left cheek.

"Dead?!" Zeraion gasped, his fingers instinctively clutching the woman's shoulders. "How could- I mean, they-"

"Soul transmutation." She shook her head sorrowfully. "Those humans have quite foolish ideas of self-sacrifice and nobility…but it can't be helped. They are gone, gone from this earth…and it is just you now."

"I still have you." Zeraion whispered softly, touching a soft kiss to her cheek. "And I promise you, we'll defeat Razier. Together, for Darius, Valter, and everyone else."

Her cheek blushed a faint red as she pulled away, more tears streaking her cheeks. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Rindelasca." she sobbed, her hands gripping his shoulders. "I…I…"

"I won't." he whispered, before he pulled away from her. "Come."

He drew a stone from his pocket and commanded, "Fire Phoenix!"

The great bird rose in front of him once more in a bright flash of flame, its wings spread. Quickly, he leaped onto its back, the woman following behind as well. Laying down against the phoenix's warm, fiery back, Zeraion wrapped his arms around its neck and whispered, "Go."

The phoenix gave a soft cry, and then it rose into the air, carrying the last two Divine Children towards their final fight.

-----

"Balthazar."

The Omega Balrog looked upwards as Grace Raizen entered through the arched passageway, a body slung listlessly over her shoulder.

"_Raizen." _The demon acknowledged her presence with a brief nod and grunt. _"May I ask what your presence here entails?"_

"It entails this." Grace said tonelessly, dumping Rinalde's body onto a nearby bed. "Lord Isentryx said to keep her safe."

Balthazar laughed, albeit humorlessly. _"If that is what he desires, then safe she shall be."_

Grace's eyes narrowed as she leaned against the wall, her arms folded. "Yes, indeed." she muttered, staring down at the floor. "It seems quite troublesome that we went to all the expense of catching her only to have to put her up for some time."

_"It is not our place to question Lord Isentryx, Raizen." _Balthazar murmured, his back still turned on her. The gigantic icy spear rested on his back with an air of deathly calm.

"So I've been told." Grace muttered, her gaze shifting from the floor to Rinalde for a brief moment.

Silence hung between the two for a few moments.

"How are your wounds healing?" she finally asked, turning towards the Balrog.

"_Better, at the very least." _The Balrog spun around on his heel, pacing across the icy hall. _"Aslan Seles is very troublesome."_

"Hm." Grace smiled faintly, letting an icy spark dance between his fingers. "Please don't tell me a mere _human_ beat you, Gazhevrog…"

There was an audible crack as Balthazar clenched his fist, but he said nothing. How _convenient _was it that all the humans here had to be stronger than him?

"_He __**will **__die." _Balthazar finally snarled, speaking each syllable as though each one had done him a personal wrong.

"Let us hope so." Grace murmured, trailing a hand through her hair. "I could kill him, if you wish-"

Balthazar put up a claw. "_This is a personal matter, Raizen."_

"So I see." Grace snapped, slightly affronted. "Don't beg at my feet when the Paladin brings your head to Elaesia on a silver platter."

"_Just a moment of weakness!" _Balthazar finally snapped, slamming his fist into the icy wall. Despite the fact that the impact would have broken stone, the wall remained solid. _"I was unprepared for his tactics, I was unaware of the extent of his power-"_

"-Which is to say, you're weaker." Grace snapped, her arms still folded. "He _is _the son of Keiga Seles, Balthazar, and don't go fooling yourself otherwise."

_"The boy detests his father, Raizen." _Balthazar said, though much more wearily this time. "_You can't possibly expect-"_

"Oh, I know pretty damn well what to expect, Balthazar." Grace shot back, her eyes a cold storm-gray. "Despite what you may think, he _is _a scion of his father, and he is a Paladin, a holy slayer and fourth-class warrior. I would suggest you take good stock of yourself before you attempt to ambush him- and the son of Dracon, for that matter- ever again."

Balthazar's eye twitched briefly, and he turned his back to Grace. She sniffed disdainfully- only to raise her hand moments later as the blade of the ice-blue spear rushed towards her head. The spear glanced off the invisible barrier mere inches from her face, as she drew back, her own lance now in hand.

"Don't." Grace whispered dangerously. "It's already bad enough. I don't want to fight any more than I have to."

Balthazar remained silent for a full minute, their spears set in a deadlock, until he finally relented. With a sleek, grating noise, he slid the icy lance in the holder on his back.

"Take care of her." Grace warned, pointing two fingers at Rinalde as she left.

"_Understood." _the Balrog muttered grimly. _"Where are you going?"_

Grace did not look back. "There's something I want to take care of."

---

"Strafe!"

Colonel Luke Sinclaire drew back the string of his White Nisrock and sent four spectral arrows flying down the thousand-foot archery strip mounted on the grounds of Elaesia, the golden shafts neatly hitting the target with a thud.

"Two are off-center." Colonel Reneas Aries said off to the side, wrinkling his nose as he peered through a pocket spyglass.

Sinclaire's face flushed for a brief second. "Shut _up. _Let's see you do any better._"_

Reneas strung his own sapphire-colored Metus and aimed the bow straight down the length of the strip, his eyes deadly focused. With a whisper of "Strafe", he loosed the arrow. There were a series of thuds as the arrows struck their mark.

"Three out of four." Sinclaire muttered, eyeing the target sharply.

"Still better than yours, Luke." Reneas said smugly, sheathing his own bow.

"Excuse me, but are you going to be using this strip or do I have to wait another hour?"

Both Sinclaire and Reneas whipped around to see a silver-haired elf standing behind them. A shock of feathers were strung around her neck, her elegant gown trailing to the ground. She wore small, jeweled studs in her ears. A curved, sleek gold-colored Nisrock was in her grip. She was beautiful- though, not so much as Arklanser, Sinclaire firmly decided.

"No, be my guest." he muttered, standing aside.

The elf sniffed briefly before taking her place and carefully stringing her bow, plucking the string in a gentle, almost motherly fashion. When she was finally satisfied, she raised her weapon to her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. "Soul Arrow…Strafe."

Her hands flashed bright before she sent four bolts of pure light streaming from her fist towards the target, so swiftly both officers nearly missed it. The arrows struck the target one after the other, leaving four concentric pits in the wood.

"Thank you, gentlemen." she said, in a slightly disdainful tone, before striding away. Reneas raised his eyebrow and gave a mock wolf-whistle. "Touchy babe."

"Yeah, well, she's got nothing on Delinia." Sinclaire snapped, as Reneas looked faintly amused.

The red-haired colonel did some more grumbling of his own before he looked towards the target, throwing it a spiteful look. "Whose brilliant idea was it to fetch all these elves here anyway?"

"Aslan Seles from Beta Division." Reneas twirled his bow around his wrist. "You know those swordsmen…wanting to get laid all the time."

"Don't confuse them with yourself." Sinclaire retorted, earning himself a rare moment of vindication as Reneas' expression fell.

"Well," Reneas said, finally deciding to disregard his friend's comment, "the fact is that it was _essential _to the survival of our little city-state here, so Athena didn't have any problems." His voice had acquired a somewhat poisonous tone.

"She couldn't say the same for Kerning, huh?" Sinclaire muttered, blowing out some pent-up breath. The news had arrived moments ago; as a result of the organized vote, all troops and civilians stationed in Kerning City would be recalled back to Elaesia, thus minimizing loss of human life should the city ever be attacked. Though most supported the idea, a large number of people- mostly thieves- were opposed to it, with the result that some of them had deserted.

"Well, I've never really liked thieves, but I wouldn't fancy a bunch of Balrogs landing in Kerning any time soon." Reneas said airily, his eyes riveted on a bunch of passing girls dressed in magicians' robes. "Hey…" He whistled suggestively in the girls' direction.

The girls briefly looked at him before bursting into laughter and walking away, talking animatedly to themselves.

"Good try, Colonel Aries." Both officers looked up to see that they had been joined by three others; a young, dark-haired ranger, accompanied by an even younger-looking sniper and a huntress, youngest of all. None of them looked older than sixteen.

"What do you brats want?" Reneas muttered, a little too grumpily.

The oldest and the apparent leader smiled. "Oh, come on, Colonel. I'm sure there's plenty of fish in the sea…you might want to take a hint from Colonel Sinclaire sometime."

The two bowmen behind him laughed, as Sinclaire smiled dryly. "As much as I appreciate the compliment, Triton, you've still got to run laps today."

Triton's face became rather sour. "Whatever, Colonel." he muttered. "Have you heard about the whole episode with Kerning?"

"Who hasn't?" Sinclaire brushed hair from his eyes. "They're raising hell in Delta Division right now…"

"Well, _I _think it's stupid." the huntress huffed. She had a pink ribbon tied in her hair and an Asianic Bow in her quiver. Despite the fact that she was fifteen, she looked much younger. "They should be able to defend their homes if they want to…"

_"_Get some sense into yourself, Sophie." The sniper rolled his eyes, carefully running a hand through his dark hair. "It's not going to do anyone any good if they die fighting for a lost cause-"

"It's not a lost cause, Kalen!" the huntress retorted indignantly. "It's a noble, honorable goal-"

"Pretty honorable to get blown into mincemeat, is it?" Kalen replied stoically, his arms folded.

As the two began quibbling, Sinclaire raised an eyebrow. "Are they always like this?"

"Always have been." Triton shook his head. "Anyway, I just heard some news from Delta. You know Joseph Stalrigarde?"

Sinclaire rolled his eyes. Who _didn't _know about the filthy rich alchemist prodigy? "Yeah. What about him?"

"You know his older sister?"

"Isn't her name Rinalde?"

"Yeah. That's the one."

"Well, what's happened to her?" Sinclaire wondered, leaning himself against a nearby tree.

Triton took a deep breath. "She's been kidnapped."

-----

Ark Wolfen silently stared out into the horizon as the sun set over Elaesia.

"Dammit." he cursed quietly, under his breath, as the fiery glow of the Soul Reaver lit up the darkening plain.

He lunged forward with the large broadsword and cut a wide swath through the air, leaving a trail of flaming particles behind. Using his right arm, he dealt a swift uppercut to the sky with the Blood Reaver, its edge leaving an icy streak on the horizon.

This had all seemed so easy a few hours ago…

Falling back, he panted briefly before shouldering both weapons. He knew the potential of being able to use two weapons at once, but was it really worth it? Would he learn a two-handed style in time before the demons invaded Elaesia?

Clenching both weapons and crossing them, he unleashed a battle cry and cut through the air, wildly lunging and slashing in whichever direction he could until exhaustion overtook him. He sunk onto the grass feeling nothing except discontent; he had probably looked more like a mental ward escapee than anything just now. Marron had made it look so easy…

For a moment, Ark felt a tiny pang of jealousy and bitterness towards the Paladin, but he brushed away the feeling as soon as it had came. Perhaps he could ask Seles, if he had the time…

He took a glance at the ring on his finger. Since opening the box that Avelyn had left him, the jewels had disappeared from the bauble, leaving him with nothing except a silver base on his finger. Still, he didn't have the heart to get rid of it, and wore the stub even though it likely wouldn't do much more for him.

He thought back to the moment when he had blasted Marron into the air with that powerful ice arte. How could he have done something like that? The thought had gnawed at him for the rest of the day, but he couldn't provide himself with an answer. Such a powerful arcane arte would have required at least some degree of practice to do correctly, and he had only been in possession of the Twin Reavers for a day.

It had to be the blades themselves, somehow- but the idea struck Ark as somewhat silly. What were the odds that a spiritual weapon- a weapon with a spirit inhabiting it- would show up? There had been legends told of those kinds of things and their unimaginable power, but they were long gone now.

If these really had belonged to the Paladin Darius Ryuuzaki, though, there was no telling what they could do.

He got up from the grass and raised both weapons once more, moving them through the air purposefully and swiftly. His mastery was mediocre at best, but he hoped he hadn't made too much of a fool of himself as opposed to swinging wildly through the air.

He would have to work on that later.

Picking up the Soul Reaver, he slid it into the sheath on his belt. Due to the fact that the gigantic blade wouldn't have fit in any normal holder, Ark had had to make one himself, and though he was somewhat experienced with metalworking, he didn't have the patience or experience to construct a truly good sheath. His final result served admirably, though it looked somewhat drab on his belt. As for the Blood Reaver, it inhabited the holder that his Helios had once rested in on his back.

He walked back towards the Elaesian complex, the evening wind breezing past his ears as he walked. Some people recognized him and raised their hands in greeting, but he more or less ignored them.

However, when he neared the familiar buildings that housed the warriors, bowmen, magicians, and thieves upon Elaesia, he saw something that made his heart fall slightly.

Iris Gaiden was standing next to the Gamma Division wing of the buildings, her back towards Ark as she joined the group of magicians rebuilding the damaged structures. Ark couldn't see the emerald-haired mage's face, but he was pretty sure she wasn't smiling.

Briefly, his heart sunk a little as he thought of the picture of the two in Ascion's room, and he wondered what he could say to her. He didn't want to meet her, but for some unexplained reason, he found his feet were moving of their own accord towards her, and he could do little except follow.

As he neared her, Ark could see Iris' eyes were closed, her Kage in hand. She, as well as the rest of the magicians supervising the site, seemed to be casting some sort of spell over the area, as Ark could feel the strange sensation of mana tickling his veins. Looking up, he saw that Iris and the others were levitating rocks, bricks, support beams, and various other building materials through the air, setting them back in place and rebuilding the complex at a much faster rate than could be accomplished by hand alone.

Ark waited until Iris was done casting before he got her attention. Stretching out a hand nervously, he tapped her on the shoulder.

She blinked and spun around, catching his gaze. "Oh…Ark." she muttered, her gaze falling towards the ground. "It's you."

Ark felt his own line of sight slip towards the ground as well. "Iris." he nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "What…what are you doing?"

"We're rebuilding Elaesia." she responded, turning slightly away from him. "Thank the Goddess Schuyler managed to work out the gravity arte for this, or else this would be a lot harder-"

She caught the somber expression on Ark's face. "I…Ark, I'm so sorry." she whispered. "I know how hard this must be-"

"I just wish I had a little more time to talk with him, you know?" Ark shrugged listlessly, his eyes still riveted on the grass. "I mean, the last time I saw him was when I first left for Sleepywood and met Lisande, and the next thing you know, he-"

His throat constricted painfully, and nothing came from his mouth except a weak squeaking noise. Iris ignored it and stared balefully at the half-finished building.

"You know, I…I was so scared." she whimpered, drawing closer to Ark. "When he first came to the Ellinia Magic Academy, I…I used to be one of the top students in my class, and then he came along. He blazed through everything and left us all in the dust. I…I think I was a little jealous of him back then, what with his age and all…I think I really found it hard to believe that somebody like him could be real."

Ark nodded. Tales of Ascion's brilliance hadn't escaped his ears.

"But…after I got to know him a little better, everything was a lot better from there." Iris said, blinking tears from her eyes. "We helped each other, and we were good friends, and I didn't really think much of it…until that day at the Forest of Dead Trees when we first kissed."

Despite himself, Ark couldn't suppress a smile. "Yeah, I remember that." he said, brushing some hair from his eyes.

Iris' cheeks blushed a soft rose. "It…it was just so sudden. I mean, one moment we were blasting zombies to bits, and then I remember he was level 70. And…I guess he got caught up in the excitement and kissed me on the mouth." She smiled, very faintly. "It…it was so sudden, and he was only fifteen, and I thought it was really cute."

"It looked like he was eating your nose." Ark muttered, at which Iris punched him in the shoulder.

"Well, I never really got a chance to tell him how I felt after that." Iris murmured, turning her gaze upwards. "I always thought there'd be time, after this whole mess was over…but then, when I looked back, he was gone." She sighed sadly, running a hand through her long hair. "He…he saved my life." she whispered.

Ark raised an eyebrow. "I'm not surprised." he finally muttered. "He _would _have done that for anyone."

"I never found out if he ever really-" Iris began, then stopped. The pink tinge on her cheeks was still there, and she looked a little afraid of what she was about to say.

"It just seems really weird." Ark finally said, gazing past Iris into the sky. "I mean, he was always the youngest one, the kid, and trying to imagine him being in love with someone, least of all someone five years older than him, that's just…"

"How would you know?" Iris blinked, dabbing at her eye with the corner of her sleeve.

"He had a picture of you on his desk." Ark said flatly, still gazing into the darkening sky.

He had expected a lot of possible responses, but he had not expected Iris Gaiden to throw her arms around him and hug him tight. "Wha-"

"Thank you, Ark." she whispered, a faint smile on her face as a tear streaked her left cheek. "Thank you so much."

"Um…" Ark swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You're…welcome." He gently detached Iris' arms from him and turned away, walking towards his own division. If the thought of Ascion being in love had sounded somewhat farfetched minutes ago, the thought of Iris reciprocating his feelings was stranger still.

He shook his head and curled his fingers about the doorknob, pulling it open.

As if on cue, Lisande Isalden stood in front of the threshold, her raven hair and eyes seeming even more beautiful in the sunset. Her sword hung at her side as her bow lay draped across her back.

"Good evening, Ark." she said calmly.

"Good…evening." Ark replied slowly. "Is there something you need?"

"I'd like to talk to you." Lisande replied, walking out through the door he'd just opened. "Come."

Slightly nonplussed, Ark stood there for a moment before hurrying after the elf, her footsteps lightly trailing across the grass.

"What is it?" he asked, catching up to her a few paces ahead.

"I see you've managed to acquire the Twin Reavers." she said, her voice level and calm.

"Yes, I suppose I have." he replied, touching a hand to the hilt of the Soul Reaver.

Lisande's eyes flitted briefly about Ark's figure. "Have they been serving you well?"

An image of Marron being blown into the sky in a shower of ice flashed in Ark's mind for a moment. "Pretty well, yeah."

"Good." Her face relaxed. "The Twin Reavers are not to be trifled with lightly."

"So I've seen." Ark said, by way of answering.

"I have heard tales of the power of Deus Ignis and Nex Glacies." Lisande whispered, "but I have never seen them in person before. Are you sure that-"

Without waiting for her to finish, Ark drew the Soul Reaver from its sheath. "I'm pretty sure. Ryden and D- I mean, Aslan said so."

"Hm." Lisande's eyes passed briefly across the flaming brand. "I wonder if…you are strong enough to control it."

Ark could feel something hot creeping up his cheeks. "What do you mean by that?" he muttered, a little too brusquely.

Lisande shot him a strange look. "Deus Ignis and Nex Glacies are spoken of very highly, Ark- perhaps more so amongst the elves than the humans, because they were first forged for Darius Ryuuzaki by an elven smith. I have no question that you will be able to control these weapons, Ark…but I fear that others may not see it the same way. If you were to show weakness of any sort…then rifts may occur."

Ark glanced at the expression on her face before sheathing the sword. "Don't worry, Lady Lisande." he murmured softly. "My parents gave them to me, and I would sooner die than dishonor these blades."

Lisande's expression changed, and Ark could not tell if she was relieved, tensed, or both. However, she said nothing except, "May peace be with you, then."

-----

"I've _got_ to go, Athena!"

"No, you won't!"

"Yes, I will, and you're not stopping me!"

"Stalrigarde-"

"Don't- _don't _talk to me anymore!"

With that, he slumped back in his seat, his fury drained from him as sweat tinged his brow.

Athena could only stare sadly at the boy that sat in front of her, signs of stress beginning to show on his face. She knew she should probably have been stricter with him, but she couldn't help it. The events that had unfolded would probably have made anyone else go insane as well.

"Listen to me." she whispered softly, sliding her hand across the desk. "I know what you're going through, but-"

"_No, _you don't!" he shouted angrily, clenching his fists. "She's my sister, and she could be dead somewhere for all I know!"

The bowmistress closed her eyes and told herself to be patient. "Please, Stalrigarde! I understand how you feel, and I promise your sister will be safe, but _listen _to me!" Her eyes flashed brightly for a moment. "You can't go- not like this, not now!"

"Why the hell not?!" Joseph snapped, disregarding what little self-control he had.

"Because…" Athena exhaled. "You're one of our most important fighters left, and we need everyone we can get…" Seeing the look on the boy's face, she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you through this, but please. We'll think of something. Don't do anything rash."

The alchemist's face simmered a dark shade of puce. Athena sighed once more and laid her hands against the desk. She couldn't possibly blame him for his behavior- if her own sister had been in the same situation, she would have stormed through hell to save her, and woe to the devil if they met.

"I need to go, Athena." he finally pleaded, desperation in his voice. "I…I haven't seen her since recently, and she's getting married. I…I'd like to see her."

"You will." Athena said, as calmly as she could. "I promise you will." She tried to smile, but her expression was lost in the tension of the moment.

The expression on the hermit's face was unreadable, but he quickly wiped it off. "Thanks, Athena." he muttered, getting up from his seat. "I'll wait until further notice." He cast the bowmistress one last glance before stepping out the door.

They were both lying.

-----

"Where…am…I…?"

Rinalde Stalrigarde woke up to two things: a terrible headache, and a pair of deathly crimson eyes staring her in the face.

She nearly screamed, in part because of the pain and shock, but somehow, the scream never left her throat. She realized that she had lost her voice, probably due to an arcane arte.

She tried to move, but she also realized her legs and arms were frozen. Shock pulsed through her body as she struggled to move, but the only part of her body she had control over was her head. She was pinned against a wall of some sort; a slab of dark, cold rock. Wherever she was, it was a much worse place than the palace-like place she had been imprisoned in before.

"Good morning, Miss Stalrigarde." Gault Isentryx calmly stood in front of his prisoner. "Or perhaps I should say, good evening. It's nightfall, but you can't tell from the dreary atmosphere in here."

Opening her eyes further, she realized she was in the Victorian Sanctuary.

"Where am I?!" she screamed- or would have, if her voice hadn't deserted her. Nevertheless, Gault could either hear her, or read her lips, because he replied, "Your grave."

She felt her blood run cold in her veins. She wasn't going to die. She couldn't…

"It is quite a shame, Miss Stalrigarde." Gault said, turning away from her. His dark hair shadowed his face as it fell past his shoulders. "Believe me when I say that I sincerely regret this. You're a beautiful, intelligent, promising young woman, and there would have been a lot of hope for you. But…" For a moment, he seemed to look sincerely regretful. "It cannot be helped. This is, after all, war."

"What have you done?" she mouthed frantically, refusing to give up hope. Was it poison, an arcane arte, or something worse?

Quietly, Gault walked over to her and touched her wrist.

She nearly screamed; when his fingers touched her skin, she could feel a searing, terrible pain shooting through her body. A crimson glow rose into the air, and she looked down to see there was an alchemic rune on her wrist. She swore she'd seen it before, but her mind felt so blank now, she could barely think.

"You know what it is, don't you, Miss Stalrigarde?" Gault's feathery voice tickled her ears.

She weakly shook her head.

He answered his own question with a single word. "Leonazium."

Her eyes widened. It couldn't be, anything except that, the death transmutation…

"I'm sure you've seen this at some point, at least in a textbook." Gault continued conversationally. "Leonazium is an ancient transmutation where pure energy is used as the reactant in the alchemic equation instead of matter. Simply put, you can control this energy at will, as though it were material, yet it is not. This energy can be harnessed for whatever purpose you desire, whether it be healing, artifice, or deconstruction. In the alchemists' tongue, this reaction is better known as Agarazium, but used in the necromantic sense, it acquires a less friendly connotation."

He finished the explanation, and Rinalde could say no more. Her life was totally at his mercy; with a single electrical pulse through his synapses, he could end her life in less than a fraction of a second.

Their eyes met once more, and she could have sworn she saw a tear, although it could just have been her imagination.

"Farewell, Miss Stalrigarde." Gault Isentryx whispered softly, as Rinalde saw him for the last time.

-----

Tiredly, Schuyler Kusanagi walked through the halls of the newly-repaired Gamma Division wing of the Elaesian headquarters. After spending an entire day maneuvering bolts and beams into place, she wanted nothing more than to snatch a few hours of sleep from the moonlit night, or perhaps read a nice, relaxing treatise on mana theory.

That was the last thing on her mind before she felt someone seize her arm.

"Wha-" Schuyler was moments away from delivering an Explosion arte to her assailant when she suddenly recognized the tired, worn face of Joseph Stalrigarde.

"Joe!" She tried to sound cheerful, although in the wake of his depression and her own fatigue, her tone fell flat. "What are you doing in Gamma? Shouldn't you be in Delta with the rest of the thieves-"

The look on his face cut her off. "Schuyler, I really need you to do me a big favor."

Her flame-red eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm going to 'help' you get over your depression because you got dumped by some girl, then you-"

"It isn't that!" Joseph snapped angrily, and Schuyler nearly bit her tongue out of shock. She had never heard him this…vindictive before. "Well, yes- it is about a girl- but not in that sense- I mean-"

"Calm down before you blow something." Schuyler muttered, seizing his wrist in turn. "What the hell happened to you? You look like somebody died…"

That was the wrong thing to say, as his face fell several different shades of color. "This." he finally managed to splutter, yanking something from his jacket pocket. It was a letter, slightly crumpled, but otherwise it was extremely elegant. Gold lace lined the corners of the envelope- certainly, whoever had sent it was no peasant.

"What's thi-" She was cut off by a brusque hand motion from the alchemist. "Just read it."

More puzzled than offended, the fire/poison mage shook the envelope onto her hand, and a letter slid out.

_Dearest brother,_

_I know it sounds quite awkward for me to send you this letter, but I-_

"Flip it over." Joseph muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Doing as he said, she saw a different type of handwriting lining the back of the paper- every bit as elegant, but written in a harder, firmer, tone, as though someone had pressed the nib of the pen sharply to the paper. The brush strokes were much different from Joseph's sister's writing.

_If you want to see your sister alive again, follow these instructions exactly as I say. Go to the Victorian Sanctuary alone at midnight tonight. Burn this letter as soon as you finish reading it, and do not show anyone this message. Bring no one with you. This is of paramount importance. Obey, and you shall see her once more. Fail, and my next letter will be signed with her blood._

Schuyler handed the starched paper back. "Seeing as how you weren't supposed to show this to anyone, doesn't this mean she's already-"

The alchemist gave her a nasty look. "Shut up." Schuyler raised an eyebrow- he certainly wasn't earning any points for politeness today, but then again, if she had a sibling in trouble, she'd certainly be more than a little riled herself.

"You can go yourself." she finally whispered. "You're strong enough- I've seen you. You saved Ark Wolfen's life. You don't need-"

"No, I _do _need you." he half-whispered, half-pleaded. "I…I don't know who else to turn to, and I know we barely know each other, aside from the fact that we blew up Balrogs together in Ellinia, but-" His forehead twitched. "You just seemed to come to mind."

"Well, I'm flattered," Schuyler replied, "but that can't be helped. If this is really as serious as it looks, then your sister is in danger, and whoever took her is probably pretty serious about the whole blood-signing thing. I probably shouldn't-"

"No, I…" He rubbed something from his eyes. "I need someone to come…just in case I don't come back."

"So, basically, you want me to accompany you on a virtual suicide mission?" she asked, her arms folded.

"Pretty much, yeah." he replied, without any semblance of a smile, and Schuyler couldn't suppress a groan. She had been looking forward to such a peaceful night…

"Look, I know I'm asking a bit much-" He rumpled his hair erratically as Schuyler watched. "But I really, really, need to do this. You know that as well as anyone else."

"It's a bit sudden." Schuyler moaned, in a feeble effort to defend herself.

"Everything's been all too sudden these days." the alchemist snapped, unfazed. "We could all be dead at any second, just like Blade. You saw what happened at Ellinia, and you know we don't have a lot of time left. If this is the only thing you can do, aside from being the leader of the Ellinian resistance forces and creating the gravity arte- then do it."

Schuyler's mouth hung open for a second before she closed it. Slowly, her fingers plucked the crisp note from his hand, and with a flick of her wrist, she set it alight and dropped it to the floor, where it was reduced to ashes.

"I will."

-----

The Ant Tunnel had always been dark and creepy, Schuyler thought, but in the dead of night, it had definitely acquired an even more sinister aura. Monsters that normally didn't poke their heads out during the morning now roamed freely about the stone caverns at night. What little light used to filter in from cracks in the cavern roof was now gone, removing any trace of comfort she could have clung to.

"Remind me why I agreed to come with you on this trip." she muttered, flame blazing at the tips of her staff to act as a lantern for the pair.

"That was because I practically begged on my knees for you to go. And you didn't have anything better to do." Joseph twirled a kunai about his finger, its edge reflecting the light in a helix pattern.

"Yes, I did." she snapped. "Like maybe eating, reading, or sleeping, all of which are better than going to the Sanctuary in the middle of the night."

"Shut up." he muttered, flinging the knife into the dark, where it made contact with a monster. A loud squeal rent the air as Schuyler winced.

"Have you even been here before?" she finally asked, in an attempt to make the atmosphere more friendly- well, bearable, at least.

"Yes, but never this deep." He exhaled calmly and brushed a tuft of hair from his eyes. "My parents have been down here a couple of times, and I got a map from their old belongings, but I'm not sure if it's entirely accurate. Some of these tunnels may have caved in by now…"

"Reassuring." the mage snapped, the firelight throwing an eerie glow over the rock walls.

"According to this, we should go down here." Joseph said, tucking a piece of paper into his pocket as his eyes peered down into the darkness. "Haste!" Without waiting, he leapt down, only the trail of his scarves visible in the black abyss.

"Oh, for- Teleport." Schuyler muttered exasperatedly, enveloping herself in a flash of blue light as she made her way down to the bottom of the cavern. The alchemist was waiting for her, a flare in his hand illuminating his face. "What took you so long?"

She was about to reply with something offensive, but put the thought away. "Let's just go." she muttered, wiping sweat from her hair. "Shouldn't there be a passage leading to the Sanctuary around here somewhere?"

"I'm looking, I'm looking." he replied irritably, scanning the map from the light of his flare. "Goddess. There's several tunnels leading down here- and about half of them are dead ends. I can't tell which is which in the dark, so it's a 50-50 shot."

"What?!" In the firelight, Schuyler's face went a shade of white. "It's bad enough that I have to go with you, but if you think I'm following you down a random rabbit hole-"

He folded the map away and stared solemnly at her. "We don't have a choice." he whispered, his footsteps fading away from her.

She raised her head just in time to see the tip of his scarf disappear into the nearest tunnel.

"Idiot…!" Running to the place where he'd dropped down moments ago, she peered down into the hole in the ground. It was completely pitch-black. There was no sign of where it would lead, or even if it was a dead end.

Cautiously, she picked a stone from the ground and dropped it into the tunnel, but its clattering faded into nothing, only showing the length of the tunnel and nothing more. Wonderful…

Taking a deep breath, she hoisted herself into the tunnel and pushed herself down the steep ground, hanging tightly to the walls to prevent herself from slipping. The ground sloped downwards at a sharp angle- if she lost her balance, it would be a long, painful journey down. Carefully, she clenched her staff in her left fist as she felt the walls with her right, looking for any sign of an opening.

This went on for some time, as she quietly breathed in and out. She'd only been in there minutes, but it felt like hours. How much farther into the earth could they go, anyway?

She got her answer when she touched up against something soft and heard a yelp of shock.

Both she and Joseph screamed at the top of their voices for some time before the alchemist had a sense to light a flare, showing both their faces to each other.

"It's…you." she breathed, trying to quiet the pumping of her heart. "I…I thought…"

"Same here." he muttered, a bead of cold sweat sliding down his forehead.

"Why have we stopped?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically.

Through the light of the flare, she saw him assume a sarcastic expression. "I assume we stopped because there's no room to walk further."

"You mean we're caved in?!" she shrieked, going into hysterics once more.

"Calm down-"

"We're only trapped several yards below the surface of the earth!" she wailed, a claustrophobic panic beginning to grip her. "I knew I never should have-"

"I said, calm down." Joseph snapped, pressing his palm to the rock wall. "Earth Transmutation."

The tunnel was suddenly filled with a brilliant blue light as an alchemic array spread from his fingertips across the width of the tunnel, illuminating the small cavern they were in. As Schuyler watched with stunned amazement, the immovable stone seemed to shimmer and melt away in front of her, reshaping itself as it spread itself away to create a neat, cylindrical passage.

"Okay, maybe we _won't _die of starvation." she muttered dryly, as she followed him down the passageway.

"You're awfully cheerful tonight." he muttered, sliding himself into the narrow tunnel. "Stay here. If it's safe, I'll give you a signal." Without waiting for a response, he dropped down. Schuyler strained her eyes, but couldn't see anything through the darkness. There was silence for a moment before she heard a thud.

"Are you all right?!" she called frantically, her voice echoing off the rocks.

There was a brief silence before she saw a flash of fiery light illuminate the cavern walls below. "Yeah. It's a big drop, though."

"Thanks for the heads-up." she muttered before squeezing herself through the passageway, her legs flailing through thin air. She hesitated for a moment before letting go of her stone handhold, her hair flying into her face as she fell-

With a soft thump, she hit something, yet it wasn't the hard stone floor she'd expected. Though her head ached slightly, she was otherwise unharmed from the drop, and looking around her, she saw that the stone underneath her was shimmering like water, its surface soft and spongy. Puzzled, she got to her feet, and at that moment Joseph released the transmutation. The rock quickly reverted to its original structure.

"Th-thanks." she said, a faint trace of pink crawling through her cheeks, even though he couldn't see it in the dim flare-light. "Any clue on where to go next?"

"It's not far." he said, deftly pulling himself up a series of frayed ropes as he crawled through the narrow caverns. Choosing to forgo the strain of climbing, Schuyler settled for teleportation artes instead, and before either of them could notice the time, the gray ruins of the Sanctuary surrounded them once more.

"Is anyone down here?" she whispered, clutching her staff closer to her body. Meeting a group of Taurospears now would certainly be an unpleasant prospect.

"Wouldn't leave out the possibility." he breathed back, sliding his hands into his jacket. There was the sound of rustling metal, and she could see the metal gleam of several stars and knives in the dim light.

"Stay close, and don't make a sound." he said, his eyes scanning the seemingly empty area.

"What do you think I'm doing?!" she hissed back, but he had the sense not to reply.

They cautiously shuffled along the narrow halls of the Sanctuary for a few more minutes, and then they saw her.

Rinalde was limply splayed against a large upright slab of stone at the end of the Sanctuary, her frayed gown hanging to the ground. Her normally elegant hair was messy and disheveled, her clothes torn. Her hands and legs seemed to be bound by some sort of enchantment, as she could not move. Her mouth was open, and both could see she was screaming, but no sound came out-

"_So, you've arrived." _From behind the shadows, a large Crimson Balrog emerged, a great number of Taurospears and Tauromacis flanking it. "_We've been expecting you to come, Stalrigarde."_

"What have you _bastards _done with her?!" Joseph roared, apparently forgetting the "stay close and don't make a sound" policy.

"_That is irrelevant." _the Balrog snarled, a ball of dark flame coalescing at the tips of its gnarled claws. _"What matters now is that you die! Meteor!"_

The gigantic ball of flame discharged itself with a mighty explosion, and Schuyler and Joseph dived in opposite directions to avoid the attack. Schuyler rolled painfully across the floor, tearing her robe on a stray piece of jagged rubble. Staggering to her feet, she saw Joseph already dueling several Tauros at once, flinging shards of metal towards them at deadly speeds.

Seeing a Taurospear nearing her, its crystal lance raised, she slashed the air with her staff and commanded, "Explosion!" The air ruptured in a fiery burst of flame, catching the demon and throwing its charred body some distance aside. Yet even as it fell, more rushed towards her with malice in their eyes. One raised its weapon and sent a bolt of lightning towards her that she barely blocked with Magic Guard.

"Shit." she snarled under her breath, eyeing them as they neared her. "Poison Fog!" The arte did little physical damage, but it sent a cloud of noxious vapor into the air that allowed her to teleport to relative safety some feet away. Those that took notice of her only advanced a few steps before they dropped limply to the ground, their eyes blank.

"I could use a little help here!" she roared towards the hermit, who had by now summoned a shadow doppelganger to add to the damage he was inflicting.

"Fine!" He drew a pair of knives from his jacket and flung them towards the round, burying their sharp tips in the stone. "Flare Transmutation!" The knives suddenly exploded with alchemic force as he fused their elements, large bursts of orange-white flame ripping through the Tauros. Swiftly, their attention was drawn from Schuyler to Joseph, but he was too fast for them- with another sweep of his arm and a motion of his fingers, he commanded "Lightning Transmutation!" Bolts of electrical energy ripped forth from the stone and surged upwards, searing the demons as they neared him.

"They've still got us surrounded." Schuyler mouthed towards her, the handle of her staff slippery with sweat. Despite the headway they'd managed to make, more demons were streaming from the shadows faster than they could bring them down, and just as they had seen in Ellinia, there was no end in sight.

"Calm down. I've got a plan-"

"Does it involving us making another tunnel in the ground?" she muttered back, eyeing the Tauros that now surrounded them.

"Shut up." he muttered, pressing his palms together. "Cast the most powerful arte you've got on three."

Slightly reminded of Ascion in Ellinia, Schuyler nodded and did as she was told, gathering energy for the final assault. "One…two…"  
_  
"THREE! Quantum Explosion!"_

"_Devil's Steelcage!"_

Both unleashed their spells at the same time, white light erupting from Schuyler's palms while Joseph's cast a gold glow. Blades of shining steel erupted from the ground around the two, surrounding them in a great cage as the blades grotesquely impaled the demons around them. What the transmutation missed, Schuyler annihilated as waves of white-gold energy blasted through the air and reduced all in its path to ashes.

Panting from the energy loss, Schuyler fell to her knees as Joseph turned his attention to his sister. "Rin, I've come to save you!" he bellowed, rushing towards her.

Her mouth opened in one last, final cry, and at that moment, Schuyler knew in her heart that something was wrong.

"Joseph!" Schuyler screamed desperately as she lay immobile on the ground. "Don't-!"

The last thing she saw was his hand seizing hers, and a brief, almost unnoticeable flash of crimson on her wrist.

Then, the world tore itself apart.

The explosion came in a blinding, swift wave as fire and light flooded the Sanctuary in one swift outburst. Without even having time to scream, Schuyler felt herself being thrown mercilessly into the air, her body feather-light in the wake of the blast. She felt herself being thrown against a pillar and felt something inside her crack. Pain shot through her from impact as shards of burnt debris fell across her face and body. The entire world was one gigantic, dark blur, as she struggled to overcome that precious gap between life and death that she had so narrowly missed before. The taste of ashes and blood filled her mouth, so sickening she couldn't bear it.

Then suddenly, as quickly as it had come, it was over. Weakly, she opened her eyes and saw red and black staining her front. Every part of her body felt like it was on fire, and a large part of her was covered in blood. Every step was a thousand miles as she struggled towards the altar that Rinalde had once been lying on. There was no sign of either of the Stalrigarde siblings as far as she could see.

Despite the blinding, soul-wrenching pain searing through her, she staggered through the ruins of the Sanctuary until she pulled herself towards the stone where the alchemists had once been. There was nothing except dust and rubble- the explosion had been so fierce that it had completely annihilated everything in its blast radius.

Almost maniacally, her burnt fingers sifted through the slag until she found something; a shred of burnt, slightly bloody cloth that had once been a glove, apparent by its shape. Curled up inside of it was another scorched piece of fabric. Beneath its blackened scars, it was a soft snow-white.

She finally realized the unavoidable truth, and broke into tears as the ruined scraps of cloth fell from her hand and fluttered to the floor. The alchemist's fingers lay curled around his sister's for all eternity.

The legendary Stalrigarde bloodline had fallen at last.

-----

_When I was young, I had always wanted to be strong._

_  
They told us at the Ellinian Magic Academy that the path of a magician was the hardest. Unlike the others, we would learn to fight not on strength, but with our minds. We would learn to manipulate the elements at their base, learn to strike down enemies with a flick of our thoughts, and above all, master the myriad mysteries of that known as magic._

_That was what they told us._

_They didn't tell us that there was another, known as necromancy. They never told us that it was necromancy that started the first Ancient War, that gave rise to the great demon known as Razier. They never told us._

_They purposefully made us weak, so that we would never rebel. We were controlled, the variables in their experiment of life. We were designed to be what we were intended to be, and nothing more. They withheld that information from us, led us to believe that fire, ice, lightning, and light were the extent of our abilities._

_I thought all that, and more. _

_What I didn't say, though I thought it, was that necromancers were the most powerful beings in existence, because nobody could stop them._

My hair fluttered past my waist as I walked, my steps unseen or heard by any, as though I was a part of the wind that blew through Ellinia at this very moment.

_I had always wanted to be a magician, but I knew I was weak._

_I had learned that from the very beginning._

_They gave us tests and judged our intelligence, our mental ability…but they could never have gauged our desire. For me, that desire was my greatest hope, my greatest weapon…and my greatest downfall._

The city of Ellinia was empty, all except a few brave fairies wandering through the wreckage. I briefly wondered if they could see me, but if they could, they didn't show it.

_I never knew my mother. They say she had been taken from me before I was born. They say it was a punishment for her sins. I lived with my father._

_My father hated me. Though I knew he had once loved me at some point, that point had long since passed. He came to despise the very matter that made up my body, as if I was the cause of all his suffering. In a way, I suppose he was right, but I couldn't help it. No one can change their past life._

_The first time I felt pain was when he confronted me. I was five at the time. He stood next to my bed and demanded why couldn't I be a good girl. I told him I wanted to be one. He said I wasn't. He said in order to be a good girl, I had to work for him. To help support the family, though there wasn't anyone except us._

_He would frequently beat and abuse me during this period. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why. I was his daughter, the one reminder of the woman he had once loved, and I never knew what drove him to such madness. Whenever I didn't bring home enough money for us to last a few more days, he would often set upon me with all his strength. His punishments were as much mental as they were physical. The fairies knew about my plight, but they either must not have cared or were too intimidated to do anything, because I was alone. The other children wouldn't come near me, for fear that they would receive the same inflictions that I had._

_I was weak, and I wanted to get stronger. I was weak, hurt, unloved by anyone, and I couldn't bear it._

_I made a promise and a wish that day. I promised myself I would grow strong someday, and I wished I could find someone's love._

Silently, I pushed aside a clump of dead branches and continued my trail through the forest, my presence unknown by any, just as I had lived.

_Time came and went, and I grabbed the first opportunity I got to become a magician. I studied hard, reading beginner's texts as thoroughly as I could. I tried to do magic with a twig I found in the forest, even though nothing happened. I wanted to show Grendel that I could be a worthy addition to the magicians of Ellinia._

_I passed. I became a magician that day._

_From then on, I studied hard. I wanted to be a good girl, to become an archmage so that nobody would ever leave me alone again. I wanted to make a name for myself. I wanted power, fame, glory. I wanted my name to be known to the whole world, and practice I did. I practically lived in the tree dungeons of Ellinia, striking down slimes and mushrooms just for another level. And I loved it. I was free, free from the pain that had once ruled my life. Magic had done this, and magic would save me._

_I could never have expected how right, yet how wrong this could be._

_I reached my thirtieth level in record time and completed the advancement exam without any trouble. I had made my decision; I wanted to be an ice/lightning wizard. I had heard tales about them, and from what I could gather, they were the strongest in the land. They could bring death with any multitude of artes, beautiful yet deadly at the same time. I wanted to be one of them._

_So that was what I did. I told Grendel of my decision, and he nodded, taking my hand and infusing me with even greater power. I had done it- I had become a wizard. My goal, at last, was complete._

_But I knew I was still missing something; I was not yet a mage, a true master. I was only a beginner; my lightning bolts could not even faze a snail. I had to work harder. I had to become better, to free myself._

_That was when I met him._

_He was tall, dark, and handsome; in short, he was everything I'd expected my wish to be. He was young- about my age, I suppose. He was a ranger, already way past my level, and I must confess I was awed by him. I asked him how he had acquired his vast power._

"_Necromancy." he replied, his voice not even betraying the faintest emotion._

"_What's that?" I asked, never knowing how his answer would change me forever._

_He didn't answer immediately, but rather looked at me as though sizing me up. I remained silent. I wanted him to see how eager, how desperate I was._

"_If you really wish it," he finally said, "I could teach you a thing or two. But first…I need to know your name. Your true name."_

_I told him._

"_Very well." he said, his eyes dancing madly. "So be it. Henceforth, your name shall be Raizen, after the greatest necromantress of the age. I shall teach you the secrets of darkness, one by one, and when we are through, I promise you shall be the greatest archmage in existence. All I ask from you is one favor in return."_

_"Anything." I told him._

"_I need you to find- -and bring him to me by any means necessary."_

_"Of course." I whispered, my fingers crackling excitedly with sparks. "I will."_

_"Excellent, my dear." he said, slipping a thick book into my hand. It was entitled **Necromantica**._

"_Read it, and no one shall trouble you evermore." he said, turning to leave._

"_Wait." I asked, stretching a hand towards him. "I gave you my name, now give me yours."_

_His eyes widened briefly before he smiled, a dark crescent that I would come to remember forever. "My name…is Gault Isentryx."_

-----

My eyes flew about the trees as I searched for what I was looking for. It was here, buried somewhere…but I would find it, no matter what.

After all, I had all the time left in the world.

-----

_I found the boy that Gault asked me to find. He was a bowman as well, with blonde hair and a rather carefree expression. His name hangs on the tip of my tongue…but I can't remember it, no matter how hard I try._

_As Gault had instructed, I set about to bring him to my mentor. I grew acquainted with him, helped him, and lived him. I accepted his childish invitations and took his brother into my confidence, all so I could reach my ultimate goal._

_Somehow along the way, I began to love him._

_I ignored the sensations at first, but it was clear that I couldn't disregard them much longer. Though he was young- younger than I was, at least- and so childish, he inspired me. He wanted to be the best bowman ever; I wanted to be the best magician ever. He worked hard, despite the risks on his life, and I could appreciate that._

_Despite that, I continued my study of necromancy. I learned the artes and techniques in the book and applied them to myself. Suddenly, I was strong, immensely strong. My lightning could strike beyond the reach of anyone else's, at exactly the right moment. I could freeze monsters for eternity with my ice, strike them down at once with my lightning. Attacks glanced off me like water; deaths became routine to me. I was truly a necromancer, elevated to the status of legend. I had fulfilled my promise at last._

_I still hadn't gotten my wish._

_I did as Gault said. I had planned to deliver the boy into his hands when the time came. I lay in wait for him at the Forest of Dead Trees._

_Yet somehow, everything went wrong. Instead of capturing him, I kissed him- I kissed the very child that I had been ordered to imprison and bind at all costs. I could feel the sin seeping through me as I shared the moment with him, but it was a sweet, luscious sin- a sin that perfectly complemented the nature of my studies._

_I met him that fateful night in Ellinia, when he said the revolt would take place._

"_I did as you said, Isentryx." I told him, my heart beating furiously for the first and last time._

"_I see." He looked somewhat wistful for a moment; the first time I'd ever seen him so. "Did my instructions involve falling head-over-heels for the little one?"_

_"Wha-" I tried to protest, to defend myself, but before I could move, he had drawn closer to me. I could feel his cold breath traveling down the back of my neck. _

"_Raizen, you disappoint me." His voice was dangerously silky. "And I thought you wanted to be the best archmage in the world."_

_I tried to tell him I did, I still did, but my words fell on deaf ears._

"_You have opposed me for the last time; you have always been a hindrance to me. The time has come. You shall pay in blood."_

_Then I was gone, lying on the ground in a pool of my own blood, as I saw for the last time the very child who I had once sworn to destroy, now standing over me, crying my name, and telling me he loved me just before I passed away._

_Love…_

_My love…_

_I wish I could remember your name one last time…_

_F…f…ph-_

…_Phoenix…_

-----

I entered the small clearing, my robes fluttering silently in the wind. Everything had been so familiar- the trees, the moon, and above all, Zeraion Phoenix, whose one single memory I still managed to cherish even after the effects of the temporal arte.

I stood there in silence for a single moment, a young, innocent girl making a wish to the starry sky, a promise still in her heart, when I had still been alive.

I knelt down and touched the soft earth where I'd died two years ago, and thought I could still taste him once more.

* * *

_6 chapters left._

_Look out for my upcoming MapleStory one-shot, Way One Moves Time, coming out next week._

_-Kal_


	24. Princess of Hell

**Chapter 21**

_**Update, 1/26/08: In response to a certain illuminating review I received, I've drawn a pseudo comic that isn't really anything more than the product of extreme boredom and a couple hours of wrangling with Corel Painter Essentials. If it sounds like I'm making a big fuss over nothing- that's because the time I spent writing this chapter should have been dedicated to my midterms. That, and I had prep school interviews. You can view the reply here:**_

_**h t t p / i 1 2 1 . P h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / o 2 4 0 / I D o o d l e O n N a p k i n s / 2 9 3 8 3 7 8 7 . j p g **_

_**You probably won't notice, but I also corrected a few minor errors. Nothing too drastic, however.**_

Author's Note: ZOMGIMNOTDEAD.

Although you've all probably died of old age waiting for me to post this chapter- it is here. That much I can say. Unfortunately, I can't explain how I got all tied up in the short time I have; just know that there was a lot of crap about prep school, and a piano concert or two, and a hell of a lot of writer's block. That's really all I can remember.

If there is one thing I can promise you, the next chapter won't take nearly as long as this one. (Hopefully.)

Also, a side note to Master and Chief and Arbiter: Despite my best efforts, there isn't a whole lot of Ryden in this chapter. I am terribly sorry for this- but writing this was a trick when you consider I was writing an average of a page per day.

Another warning, this time to all readers in general: The ending is kind of rushed, due to the fact that I have midterms.

Speaking of pages, I thought you might all like to know that this chapter has brought the story's page count up to 800. If current trends persist, I predict Revolt shall reach 1,000 pages within 3 or 4 more chapters.

Anyway, it should be kind of obvious when you consider the writer's block I've endured over the past four months, but you know what to do.

So sit back, burn a Kotoko/Linkin Park/Hilary Duff/whateverthehellkidslistentothesedays MP3 or two, and enjoy.

-Kal Ancalas

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"No." Athena whispered, her hands whitening upon the surface of her desk.

The elf's left hand was clenched into a fist upon her desk, her right feverishly riffling through her copper hair. "No, Seles, tell me it isn't true!"

Keiga Seles, brilliant Dark Knight that he was, could do nothing to lessen the impact of his next words.

"Schuyler Kusanagi arrived at the gates of Elaesia two hours past midnight, just ten minutes ago. Her entire body had suffered second-degree burns, if not some third, and the poor girl was barely coherent. According to the witnesses near the scene, she managed to whisper Joseph Stalrigarde's name once before collapsing from mana exhaustion and shock. Pity her, having to teleport herself all the way from the Dungeon back aboveground…" His auburn hair fluttered about his shoulders regretfully as he shook his head. "She's not going to have much of a chance."

Athena couldn't respond, her vision blurring as Seles stood before her. Another one of Elaesia's pillars had fallen, reminding her once more how easily they could all be swept away, and everything would fall.

"I told him not to go." she whispered, her voice barely audible. The artificial light of the lamp above cast a spectral glow over the bowmistress and knight.

Seles closed his eyes, shadowing his own thoughts. "His sister was in danger, and I believe anyone would have done the same in his position."

"Yes, but…" Athena whispered hollowly, glancing upwards in despair. At this very moment, she felt as if she were a child once more, all the world and its cruel realities turned against her.

"If Rathias were only here." she finally whispered, the fingers of her left hand slowly unclenching. The lamp above threw a somber glow over her tired figure.

"Hm." Seles turned his gaze aside, examining a corner of the wall. "I too long for his presence, but we must remember our priorities. If what you say is true, Zeraion Phoenix is the one to end this war."

"Yes, I know." Athena looked at her desk and listlessly traced a circle on its surface with her fingers. Rathias Gardner, Gault Isentryx, and Zeraion Phoenix, all of them her former students, and to each his own path to follow.

"Thank the Goddess I still have you." Athena whispered, her almond gaze flitting towards the Dark Knight.

"Thank you, Avandil." Seles replied calmly, his eyes not betraying anything.

"Seles-!" Athena moaned, putting a hand to her forehead. "Don't-"

"You will always be the princess of House Pieralasca," Seles continued, unperturbed, "regardless of what you or others think. You had no right to suffer for the choices you made. Always remember that."

"Thank you, Keiga." Athena said, abandoning her formality for a moment. "That was quite touching."

"It should be." Seles allowed a faint bit of humor into his tone. "Rathias said the same thing to me ten years ago- sans the princess part, of course."

Athena shook her head and drew a scrap of parchment from her desk, drawing a large circle upon it with a quill pen. "Come here."

"Yes?" The Dark Knight bent over the desk, his hair dangling over the wooden surface.

"With two of our pillars gone, I must accept the fact that we are not safe just sitting here, no matter how hard we train our soldiers or how many armories we build." She sighed deeply and continued to mark the circumference of the circle with evenly-spaced dots. "A plan of defense is required if we wish to survive upon this earth."

"So I've noticed." Seles noted grimly. "What would you have in mind, then?"

"Here." With deep, cutting strokes of her quill, Athena crossed the dots with sharp Xs. "We will erect a defensive barrier around the city, impermeable by any assault, magical or physical."

"To maintain a barrier of that size would require enormous amounts of mana," Seles pointed out, "and even if Ascion Blade was still with us, it would be quite a trick to safeguard an area of over 25 square miles."

"I've already thought of that." Athena pointed at the center of the circle. "Each magician in Elaesia will use some of their energy to create the barrier, after which Grendel will maintain the barrier at all times using his own energy. Because of the principles of mana equilibrium, the energy needed to sustain the barrier will be small as opposed to the energy required through conventional means. If any unseen fluctuations in the mana occur, it won't be hard to convince some of Gamma Division to help sustain the field, and we have more than enough magicians to cope with any anomalies that might decide to show up."

"Hm." The lampshade above cast a shadow over Seles' eyes. "It sounds well enough, but such a barrier, even if we had the might of a million archmages, is bound to break in the end under Isentryx's wrath. You, of all people, should know that."

"I was coming to that." Athena said, now indicating the X's she'd drawn on the diagram. "If the barrier should be breached, we will concentrate our forces on eight evenly-spaced points on the city's perimeter, led by certain capable officers. In the event of an airborne attack, there will also be a ninth division located in the center of the city should the need arise."

"It isn't perfect, but then again, I suppose it is the best we can do given our limited number of forces." Seles leaned over the desk, his elbows propped against the wooden surface. "By this, I take it to mean that we are fighting a purely defensive war?" There was a shade of skepticism in the dark pupils of the man's eyes.

"We have no hope of storming Meteon E'traia until Rathias and Zeraion return." Athena whispered, her eyes closed regretfully. "Despite our most optimistic dreams, Razier will not be defeated unless the last Divine Child returns to us."

"So I see." The Dark Knight straightened himself up, his knuckles resting against the grain of the table. "And what of the capable officers you mentioned earlier? Who will those lucky souls be?"

"That should be quite obvious, Seles." Athena replied impassively, her arms folded. "Are you or are you not a Dark Knight, and the only one alive upon this earth to have mastered a third release?"

Seles gave a dim sigh. "Very well, Athena, if you so desire, then I shall lead a division, but I believe we are still eight short of the required nine."

"Well, of the several names that spring to mind, I was thinking of Ark, Ryden, Lisande, Rysdale, Natalia, Traphes, Delinia…and yes, Aslan." she finished, as if saving the Paladin's name for her coup de grace.

Though Seles winced very minutely, Athena saw his reaction. "Would it bother you to fight alongside your son, Keiga?"

"It is not the question of whether I wish to be with him, but rather whether he wishes to fight alongside me." Seles replied tonelessly. "He is a grown man now, and if he does not wish to do so, I cannot force him."

There was a moment of drawn silence between the two elders.

"Why do you believe he hates you?" Athena said, quietly. "Even if he cannot accept you as his father, you will still be his teacher. Isn't that all he really needs?"

Seles turned away, his face completely shadowed. "It is what he needs," he admitted quietly, "but not what he wants."

The bowmistress opened her mouth to say more, but the Dark Knight had vanished by then.

-----

Both Gault and Ceraia eyed each other like wolves, neither breaking the silence as the Fomorii circled restlessly around them. Though the chamber was dimly lit with the glow of the necromancers' souls, their master's eyes stood out in particular, beacons in the darkness.

"You've returned to this earth at last, my dear." Gault spoke, his words lending a deathly calm to the atmosphere. There was the faintest trace of silkiness in his tone as he eyed the product of Rinalde's blood.

The leader of the Fomorii did not respond, her eyes of dark lavender standing in contrast to the bowmaster's blood-red irises. Her mouth seemed to open as if to speak, but it closed almost immediately.

"How ironic, that the master is resurrected by the former servant." Gault continued, his eyes closed. Their eyes met as he opened them once more, traces of their past connecting them like slender threads. "Consider your debts paid, then."

"I owed you nothing." Ceraia snarled, lavender sparks flashing behind her pupils as she broke her silence. "You're nothing to me! _Nothing!" _She raised her hand, glowing with lightning, as if to strike.

Without faltering, Gault's arm shot out like a snake and seized ahold of Ceraia's wrist. As her eyes widened, she lunged forward with her other hand, her fingers poised as though about to rip his heart out. His eyes barely blinked once before his silhouette seemed to melt into the dark abyss, only to appear behind her once more as her arte struck empty air._  
_

"Die!" Ceraia snarled, unhindered as she turned on her feet to face the bowmaster, a dual-tipped lance of lightning cradled in her grip. She thrust the spear at him, only to meet resistance as he summoned a blade from midair to parry aside the blow. Her features manic with despair, she thrust again and again, each blow repulsed by his guard as sparks flowed through the air like water. The Formorii continued to circle, their soulless eyes watching the pitched battle between the two.

"I will not fall to you!" she growled, malice in her eyes, as he returned her fury with a cold, condescending stare. "_Eissig Falchion!" _A blast of icy flak erupted from her palm at point-blank range, forcing Gault backwards for a split second. He counterattacked with several nimble thrusts and slashes of his own, moving with the grace of a zephyr as the scimitar rent the air.

They dueled furiously in the shadowed light of the Fomorii's eyes, neither able to overwhelm the other, yet unwilling to cease. Lightning and ice exploded through the dungeon as the former archmage attempted to defeat the bowmaster, yet Gault deflected all her blows with relative ease. After a definitive point, he abruptly lunged forward and caught her by surprise, the point of his sword at her neck. She froze as it gently touched her skin, almost teasingly.

"You tried to kill me once before," Gault said quietly, his eyes closed, "and failed. Don't expect that you can do it even after all these years."

Ceraia said nothing as the lance vanished in her grip, and Gault avulsed the blade from his hand as well. "You were my greatest triumph." she whispered, her eyes almost human in the few rays of light that pierced the Sanctuary. Her burning hatred had fallen to resigned sorrow. "And yet, you became my greatest folly."

"Such is life, my dear Ceraia." Gault said, his arms folded as he gazed at the archmage kneeling on the ground. "Fortune favors a man- or woman, rather- one day, and stabs her the next."

"Why have you brought me here?" Her eyes gazed questioningly at the Fomorii, their eyes riveted upon their former master. "Even the angel of death, after these countless years, has not managed to separate us."

"That is true." Gault reflected, his dark hair grazing his shoulders. "As much as I think we would like to believe otherwise, we are one. Two halves of the same coin, connected by the same destiny."

"Same coin we may be, yet our destinies were wholly different." Ceraia countered, standing up and meeting Gault's eyes. She was taller than Gault- barely just. "You wanted to destroy the world. I wanted to save it."

"Save it from yourself, perhaps?" Gault asked, his voice edged with caustic humor. "Do not presume to tell me that the Fomorii were truly dedicated to such a noble cause, Raizen. You knew much better than that."

"If I had known, I would never have brought you into existence." Ceraia whispered, speaking half to herself now.

"Ha!" Gault laughed coldly as he turned his back to Ceraia, Eternal Sonata resting in its quiver. "So speaks she who wishes to overturn that which she dedicated her life and death to!" His eyes flashed dangerously as he swept a hand in front of him, as though pulling a curtain. "That is the flaw within humans- no matter how high and mighty they think they are, their emotions shall tether them to the earth until the day they die!"

Ceraia said nothing, her eyes frozen, her mouth tightly drawn, almost as if she expected the proverbial axe to fall.

"You were as foolish as the rest of them, Raizen." Gault whispered, his words as silent and cutting as a scalpel. "You swore to gain dominance over the others of this world with your knowledge of forbidden magic, and yet you became what you despised. Weak, one of the others."

A painful moment elapsed before Gault spoke once more.

"He still lives."

"Who?" Ceraia whispered, her tone glassy.

"Someone you should be very concerned with, my dear." Gault smiled, his crescent-thin mouth shining like a knife in the dim light. "But if our cards are played right, we shall fear him no more."

"Our cards?" Ceraia sniffed, a bit of arrogance finding its way into her tone once more. "I would never ally myself with you. I have my own paths to take."

"Your own path?" Gault laughed and threw his head back, relishing the almost tangible irony of the statement. "We walk the same road, Ceraia. You entered this world wanting to save it, as you say, from those who did not deserve to rule it. My goal is one and the same." The smile on his face did not falter, only intensifying in the darkness.

The archmage did not speak as light fell upon her face, illuminating her lavender eyes that at one time had shined with a brilliance unparalleled by any magician in history.

"The only obstacles that stand in my path are the brothers Falchion." Gault mused, his smile contorting into a snarl that looked hideously demonic. His blood-red gaze rested on Ceraia as he spoke. "But they shall fall in time, as will everything else. All I require, my dear…is your aid, the might of the greatest arcanist ever to walk this land."

The bowmaster's eyes circled the Fomorii even as they surrounded him, his pale fingers crushing into a fist.

"You forged your destiny the moment you discovered the forbidden artes of necromancy." he spoke, addressing her as though they were the only two in the room. "You cannot turn back now, Ceraia. Even if you refuse…"

Slowly, his face split into another garish smile.

"…who will take you?"

About to speak further, Ceraia Raizen closed her mouth. There was no need for words now, as the heavy silence swirled about them in the dank winds of the Sanctuary.

"_Begone." _she whispered quietly, with a wave of her hand, and the Fomorii retreated into the darkness until they were no more. Turning her back on Gault, she strode out of the icy hall of Meteon E'traia until she was no longer visible.

As her footsteps faded from hearing, Gault stared upwards at the great domed ceiling and ran a hand through his sable hair.

_Two of the greatest mages in existence under my control…with them, nothing shall stand in my path._

…_And yet, the Falchion brothers still trouble me. One so far, and one so close, and still I fear them if they were to unite._

The bowmaster let his hand fall and smiled, not for the first nor the last time.

_But what better way to bring down the Falchion two…than their beloved sister?_

Gault threw his head back and laughed, and in those moments, the person of his thoughts had no idea the horrors that were soon to befall her.

-----

The sun broke over the hills of what had previously been Henesys, its rays casting an amber glow over the lands of Bera.

As sunshine spread across the slopes of the last refuge on earth against the scourge that was threatening the world, the sounds of metal against metal rang in the distance, growing successively louder with each second.

In the shadows of the morning, Ark Rafael Wolfen and Aslan Seles dueled against each other with all the zeal they could muster. One would have thought it was a battle to the death instead of a practice match by watching them, so fierce were their blades. Behind them, Ryden Dracon and Lisande Isalden watched from a safe distance. Neither spoke much, though they seemed to exchange glances from time to time.

Ark swung the Twin Reavers in wide arcs and slashes, attempting to break the Paladin's guard. Meanwhile, Marron blocked the attacks as fast as they came, wielding the gigantic Heaven's Gate as though it weighed nothing at all. With a single motion, Ark stabbed with the fiery sword and brought the axe down in a great cleave, just as Marron repulsed the incoming blades inches from his person with a swipe of his own brand. The blonde-haired swordsman counterattacked with a maneuver of his own, forcing Ark back a few paces as he parried away the successive slashes.

"They're brilliant." Lisande murmured, a faint trace of admiration in her eyes as she gazed at the duelists. "What I wouldn't give to have bladesmen of that skill among the elves…"

"Brilliant, maybe," Ryden concurred flatly, "but hot-headed idiots."

Without stepping back, both duelists flung heavy-handed blows at each other at close range, as though they intended to overwhelm the other with pure brute force. Sparks lit up the air as the blades made contact, yet none of the weapons sustained any damage whatsoever. Ark lunged with the Soul Reaver as Marron slashed with his own blade, matching him strike for strike. Shades of crimson, silver, and blue lit up the morning as the fighters struggled in deadlock.

"Time." Ryden called from the side, and both Ark and Marron locked gazes for a minute before they reluctantly lowered their weapons, sweat sheeting down their faces. Ark collapsed onto the grass, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, while Marron cast an ice arte to cool himself.

"You've improved." Lisande said from above, peering down at the wild-haired crusader as he lay panting on the ground. Ark's face was already red from exhaustion, but that didn't stop it turning another shade of puce.

"At the rate you guys are going, it'll be a wonder if I can keep up with you two." Ryden said jokingly, sliding his own sword from its sheath with a sleek motion. Its curved, tempered blade gleamed in the morning. "Come on, Ark. Stretch those muscles."

"Oh, for the Goddess' sake!" Ark muttered, shielding his eyes from the sun on his back. "I just dueled with Marron for half an hour!"

"Please, like Dariel would tire anyone out." Ryden muttered airily, causing the aforementioned swordsman to blanch. "You need the practice, anyway. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you." His amiable smile did not fade.

"…Fine." Ark muttered, mouthing something offensive under his breath as he hefted the Twin Reavers in his hand, his muscles aching. He got to his feet as Ryden watched, his blade held aloft. The two combatants eyed each other tersely, waiting for the other to strike.

"Begin." Marron said tonelessly from the side, the sunlight rolling off his plated shoulders.

Ryden charged first, and Ark managed to avoid his insides getting ripped open by sidestepping and blocking with the Soul Reaver. Undaunted, Ryden charged again, the curved katana cutting the air so quickly that it almost looked alive. Whereas Marron dueled with basic maneuvers and brute strength, Ryden fought more with speed and precision. Ark felt miniature tremors run up his wrists as Ryden landed blows onto his guard every two seconds. His arms soon felt like lead.

"Tired already?" Ryden quipped, as he landed a double blow to Ark's crossed weapons. Ark silently ground his teeth as sweat rolled off his brow. He hadn't taken any hits yet, but he was annoyed at the fact that he was defending a lot more than attacking.

In a burst of bravado, Ryden threw his blade into the air, and Ark barely had time to see it flashing silver through the sky before he suddenly felt a rain of punches and kicks strike his guard repeatedly, catching him off balance. A direct hit from either of the Twin Reavers would probably have killed Ryden, but he needn't have worried; his speed was so great that Ark could barely block as it was.

Gritting his teeth, Ark stepped backwards and lowered his guard, preparing to strike out, but in the next second, he felt something cold touch the side of his neck. Ryden had caught the spinning blade in midair.

"En garde." Ryden said bluntly, before sheathing the katana. Grumbling obscenities under his breath, Ark lowered the Twin Reavers and wiped the new flood of perspiration from his face with the sleeve of his cuirass.

"You lost to Ryden?" Marron ventured to say, eyeing Ark with derision and amusement. To his chagrin, Ark could see the beginnings of a smile working around the Paladin's normally stone face.

"Shut up." Ark muttered with all the eloquence he could muster. "I was dead tired."

"Well, you were _dead, _that much I'll give." Aslan smirked, folding his arms.

"Don't think I won't give you another deep freeze." Ark warned, waving the icy axe in the Paladin's direction, and his cocky smile faded.

"Come on." Ryden spoke up, diffusing the argument. "Let's go, or we'll miss breakfast."

"Breakfast." both Ark and Marron repeated listlessly, following Ryden's footsteps. Neither seemed very hungry.

The familiar gates of Henesys-Elaesia soon loomed in the distance as the four bladesmen crossed over the hills, slimes and mushrooms bouncing idly by.

"Finally." Marron muttered, taking the lead as he brushed perspiration from his forehead. "I really need a nap after _someone _dragged me up at six in the morning for practice…" he trailed off, giving Ark and Ryden an antagonistic glare.

But as he prepared to step over the threshold that separated the demon resistance headquarters from the rest of the world, he got a rude awakening. An invisible barrier made its presence known as Marron smashed headfirst into it, staggering backwards with a bruise on his forehead. It was as though he'd walked into a brick wall.

Both Ark and Ryden stopped dead, the latter trying not to laugh. "What happened?"

"Some…stupid…idiot…put a barrier…over Elaesia!" Marron roared, lunging with a kick at the mystical shield. This earned him nothing except a new bruise on his heel.

"Perhaps that idiot can explain, Aslan." Athena said coldly, walking towards the gates.

Marron blanched, as Ark, Ryden, and Lisande stepped backwards. Athena made a sign towards someone in the distance, and there was a flash of light as a magician appeared out of nowhere next to Athena. The magician pressed his hand against the barrier, and there was a soft hum as the shield made itself visible, shimmering a pale blue in the light. Slowly, the blue field receded, leaving a space wide enough for somebody to slip through.

The four warriors carefully slipped inside, after which the barrier sealed itself once more. Bowing, Athena spoke. "I do apologize for the trouble I've caused you, but as you can see, we thought it necessary to plan a defense should the need arise."

"We?" Marron muttered, still rubbing the bruise on his forehead.

"Yes, we- or to be more precise, Seles and I." Athena replied, folding her arms. "We took the liberty of setting up a wide-range barricade over the city some time ago, powered by mana from over a thousand magicians. It should hold well against anything that decides to come at us, whether physical or magical."

"It held out against Dariel's thick skull, at least." Ryden muttered, and Marron's face darkened before he pretended not to notice.

"In any case, the barrier does need some maintenance," Athena continued, "so I suppose I should introduce you." She indicated the magician standing next to her. For a magic-user, he had a fair bit of muscle, and had dark, slightly peaked hair that fell over one of his eyes, along with a sour-looking face.

"This is Colonel Gabriel Tauren, priest and graduate of the Ellinian Magic Academy with high honors. He's an expert on mana flow and equilibrium, and along with Grendel, helps keep the polarity of the barrier stable."

"Pleased to meet you." Gabriel grunted, with a tone that sounded neither pleased nor convincing. "I'd advise you not to try to test the integrity of the barrier with your head. Leave that to the Balrogs."

"I'll remember that." Marron muttered, grinding his teeth.

"Anyhow," Gabriel continued, "you'll need to register with Iris Gaiden first chance you get. She keeps a record of the mana signatures of every person in this place authorized to travel outside the boundaries. Being senior officers, that means you. I wouldn't fancy being locked out of this place any time soon."

"Right. Nice to meet you." Ark offered his hand, but Gabriel barely touched his palm before teleporting away.

"He's rather reclusive." Athena hastened to explain. "In any case, as Gabriel has said, you will need to find Captain Gaiden- she should be in the Gamma wing right now- and then report back to me as soon as possible." Her face darkened briefly. "There is something we need to discuss."

"Of course." Ark nodded briefly before turning away, the others following behind him.

"Every time she needs to discuss something with us, it invariably involves us going on a virtual suicide mission." Marron muttered when they were out of earshot.

"It's war, Dariel. What do you expect?" Ryden murmured, stretching his arms behind his back.

"I'm just saying, it would be nice if something remotely interesting happened instead of this stream of death, destruction, and futility." Marron replied, shading the sun from his eyes with his hand.

"What, death, destruction, and futility isn't theatric enough for you?" Ryden whipped back, causing Marron to assume his usual stone-cold expression.

The axeman couldn't help a smile. Leave it to his former teammates to stir the atmosphere with an argument...

They found Iris sooner than expected, as she was standing near the boundaries of Henesys mere feet from the edge of the barrier she was maintaining along with her colleagues. As Ark neared her, he noticed she had a distant, forlorn look on her face- the same one she'd worn ever since Ascion had gone.

Swallowing past the discomfort in his throat, he tried not to blink as her eyes gazed towards them. "What have you come here for?"

"Mana signatures...for the barrier." Marron cut in, saving Ark the ordeal of speech.

"Oh." She motioned for the swordsman to give her his hand. "I'm surprised Gabriel didn't blow you up." she murmured, as she traced a line along his wrist with her finger, reading his data. "It's difficult having him as a boss."

"Could be worse." Ryden shrugged as Iris took his wrist.

"Well, he is brilliant, I'll give him that, but I'd still like to work under someone a little less icy." she mused briefly, moving on to Lisande.

Ark caught the mage's solemn eyes and knew exactly whom she was thinking of.

Her fingers felt warm against his wrist when he touched her, yet there was an undercurrent of ice underneath. He supposed it was because of her knowledge as an ice/lightning wizard. Their gazes met briefly before he turned his eyes to the ground.

Muttering a brief thanks, Marron turned his steps towards the center of Elaesia, in preparation for the inevitable briefing with Athena, and Ryden and Lisande followed suit. Ark was about to do so as well, but he felt Iris' hand touch his shoulder.

"I..." He turned around and saw her looking at him. Her eyes were clouded with emotion, but he could not read her face for the world.

"Ark…" Her voice was oddly soft. "If there's anything I can do, please…don't hesitate to ask."

For a moment, he was quiet, and then he nodded. "Thanks."

They shared a single second before he turned away.

-----

"You wouldn't know it was Henesys just by looking anymore."

Natalia Arundale's words slipped across the lazy morning as she lay against the slope of a grassy hill near the edge of Henesys-Elaesia.

Her companions said nothing, merely lying back as if in silent, resigned agreement. Tales lay against the hill as well, his legs crossed leisurely as sunlight reflected off his lenses. The heavy crossbow he normally wore lay on its side, the handle resting close to his amber hair.

"Times change." he finally offered, his voice devoid of sarcasm for a rare moment.

"Everything's changed." Igzarion muttered, half to himself, his eyes closed. His dark hair hung in locks to his shoulders, giving him a rugged, unkempt appearance. He looked as though he hadn't slept in some time. He was leaning against a tall oak, an occasional leaf blowing into his face.

Only Arklanser remained silent, resting cross-legged on the flat ground near the tree, surrounded by stray leaves and acorns. Her eyes, as crimson as the hair splayed across her back and the ground, seemed to stare into the horizon as though waiting for something.

United once more, the Devil Children stared forlornly at the town that had both been their home and their hell.

"Everything's gone by so fast." Natalia whispered, her voice as gentle as the wind. Of the four bowmen, she alone seemed to retain her innocence, unmarked by the tragedies of her youth. "Do you remember when we were children?"

"I don't think any of us want to remember those times, Natalia." Tales mused, his arms folded. "We were all the evil little orphans of Henesys back then, remember?"

"It was still our childhood, Rysdale." she replied, chestnut hair strewn across her forehead. "Twelve years ago, Elaesia never existed, and this nightmare would never have come to life."

"You can blame that on Gault." Igzarion muttered, casting a resentful glare over the city.

"You could blame enough things on Gault to fill the library in Ellinia." the sniper murmured, adjusting his glasses off-handedly. Natalia couldn't help glancing at him as he did so- he alone of the four could say that. He had suffered his losses directly at the malevolent bowmaster's hands.

"Do you remember the Resistance?" she finally asked, staring into the sky.

It was a lovely turquoise blue, with just the faintest traces of cloud.

"Ah, yes, those lovely times with Phoenix." Tales chuckled, a rare smile adorning his face. "Memories, huh, Iggy?"

"Wouldn't forget them for the world." Igzarion muttered, his teeth clenched.

"What happened to Phoenix, anyway?" Arklanser spoke, her voice sounding fairly mature in contrast to the younger Devil Children.

"He flew off to some godforsaken island." Igzarion replied bluntly, in his usual dismissive tone.

"No, I mean really." Arklanser snapped, staring across the sky. "We only knew him for a short couple of months and then it was like he never existed, you know?" She exhaled briefly. "He left a bit of an impression."

Tales wolf-whistled. "Phoenix on top of Luke? My, Delinia, you _have _been busy lately!"

"I'm nine years older than he is!" Arklanser snapped, looking as though she might cast an arcane arte any moment. "For Goddess' sake, Rysdale, can you get your mind out of the gutter for once?!"

"Forgive me, Delinia." Tales murmured, his voice becoming very demure. "I wasn't aware it was prohibited to make jokes in this area…"

"He knew Final Attack." Arundale quickly cut in, defusing the argument. "He knew that technique- the forbidden arte which no one in history, short of Athena herself, Rathias Gardner, and Gault- has been able to perform successfully, much less master. No wonder Gault was so interested in him in the first place."

The mention of Gault's name seemed to cast a pallor over the party for a moment, Tales, Igzarion, and Arklanser's expressions becoming rather ashen. It took a minute of silence before their moods returned to normal.

"Gault." Igzarion finally said, speaking the name as though it were a lit coal. "We knew him."

"Thought we knew him." Arklanser muttered, brushing crimson hair from her eyes.

"And why shouldn't we have?" Tales murmured, a poisonous edge making its way into his voice. "He was like the rest of us. Loveless, yet brilliant. I suppose he took it a step too far, and here we are."

He finished the sentence on an especially caustic note, letting its effect hang in the air for a moment. Yes, it was all because of Gault Isentryx that the world had been turned upside down. With his silly little revolt of the archers in Ellinia- a single moment of madness- he had threatened the balance of power in the world. He had taken life- murdered the girl that Zeraion Phoenix had known and loved for a brief time. And he had killed Lauranthalas as well.

To think that he- they- had once known him was repugnant, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, and gazing at his companions, he could see the same reaction on each of their faces.

And yet…even as he looked at Natalia, he could still, somehow, see something that resembled a resigned sadness, as though she sympathized with Gault. Of course, Natalia Arundale's nature, contrary to the world she had lived her life in, had never been malicious or cruel in any way, and yet even Gault…He shook his head, deciding to put it out of his mind.

The shadow of a person fell over his eyes, and he sat up only to see that it was none other than Elaesian Colonel Luke Sinclaire.

The colonel's auburn hair fell over his eyes, glinting a dark red in the sun. The expression on his face was all-business, the person inside giving way to a strict, rigid military protocol that had been instilled in his mind as a soldier. For a moment, Tales couldn't help but feel a bit of reluctant admiration towards the young man, so stoically dedicated to the resistance against Gault.

That admiration vanished into thin air as soon as he heard the words "Athena would like to see you."

"She does?" Igzarion murmured, not looking up.

"Yes, she does." Sinclaire replied coldly. "And I would suggest that if you don't want to be on the receiving end of a Hurricane attack, you should probably leave now."

Muttering something that sounded like "fucking hell", Igzarion straightened up and walked past Sinclaire with his usual misanthropic demeanor, his dark eyes glaring resentfully across the landscape. Arklanser followed after, her crimson hair sweeping past her waist as she walked away. Tales saw her glance briefly at Sinclaire for a moment, but he made no sign except for a brief nod.

Reflecting for a moment on the fact that his childhood friend would soon be married to this man, Tales resignedly got to his feet and sheathed his crossbow. Before he could stop himself, he found himself offering his hand to Natalia- but she took it.

"Thank you." she said, smiling as they passed Sinclaire. Anyone else would have blushed pink in response, but Tales had years of experience controlling his emotions to the world and merely answered with a smile.

"Natalia…" he said slowly. "There's something I've been wondering."

"Wonder away, then." she replied, her chestnut hair grazing her shoulders as they walked. He noted in his mind that there was little difference between the 8-year old girl he had once known and the 20-year old woman he was speaking to now.

"Are you all right?" he finally asked. "You seemed troubled."

"Troubled?" she replied, surprise on her face. "Nothing of the sort."

"Natalia…" he sighed, glancing around them briefly. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that Gault is your-"

The look in her eyes- sharp, yet a little frightened- made him drop his voice abruptly.

"Please, Rysdale." she whispered, gazing into his eyes. "You're the only one that I've ever told. Not even Iggy knows. Please, don't bring it up again. I'm completely fine." She smiled weakly.

The sniper blinked once as his ice-blue pupils met hers, before he nodded briefly.

"All right, then I won't."

-----

There were two things that Grace Raizen thought overrated in the world.

One was death.

She had never been afraid of death as a child, knowing that what awaited her could only serve as solace for what had passed in her life as a human. Every second of her life had been a conduit of dark hope, of hope for salvation. A salvation that she knew only the angel of death would bring.

Her spectral hair fluttered majestically in the soft winds of the burnt city of Ellinia, but none noticed it. She was a phantom, unnoticed by any, just as she had lived. Those that passed by- a fairy here, a magician there- reflected for a moment on the beautiful, yet sorrowful girl standing there before turning their attention away to other important matters. The reconstruction of the city pressed upon their minds.

She knew she deserved to die. She had made a deal with the devil himself, relinquished what little purity she had left for the sake of power. Blood power, really- countless others had paid with their lives for her sake, a fact that rested in her heart.

The cruel irony was that she felt no remorse. What did the lives of untold others matter as long as it meant she would never have to suffer the pain she had once taken? If the souls of others were destroyed as a result of her forbidden artes- too bad for them.

Grace wanted to feel the remorse, she _did. _She had sinned, delved into the branches of magic that were forbidden to the world. Those that had done so before her had lost their lives, but she had to pay a far greater price- the loss of her humanity.

To err was to human- to forgive was divine. But she knew she could never forgive, nor be forgiven by anyone. Her fate had been sealed the moment she had made her contract with Gault Isentryx, and she would have to exist knowing that.

The second was love.

Love was a dirty trick played upon the human mind to increase the continuation of the species, she had told herself. It was only natural that she should take such a view; she herself had wielded Cupid's bow on more than one occasion rather than been on the receiving end of the shafts herself. She could never believe that anything would make one want to dedicate their life solely to the existence of another person, and that had been a view that she would carry to the grave.

Until she met Zeraion Phoenix.

The boy had been practicing his techniques in the Dangerous Valley, and so that was where she had gone. And indeed, she had been meaning to incapacitate him with a burst of ice and then deliver him hook, line, and sinker to Gault, but that had disappeared from her mind when she saw his arm explode in a brilliant flash.

In a way, that was what had first drawn her to him. He was so much like her, in the sense that they had both learned techniques that had been forbidden to them. They had risked their lives knowing that. And yet, they still continued to press on despite the costs they would soon have to pay.

Grace had never believed in the hands of fate, but she knew the hands that had touched Zeraion Phoenix, helped him, comforted him had not been her own. It was as though her soul, briefly freed from the burden her mind had become, had taken her for a brief moment in its embrace, destroying rhyme and reason in the frame of a second.

She had continued to see him, but only as a superficial gesture; to defeat the enemy, one must know the enemy. And she had done so dutifully, as a good weapon should have. Lunch here, training there- and in doing so, she had discovered his weakness. He had fallen in love with her.

So simple, she thought. So predictable, so infallible. And she would treat him to his last kiss before he met his fate, in the Forest of Evil.

And yet…as his lips touched hers, the sweet sensation that she had only experienced twice in her life, she knew she could never harm him, because he was her, in a way. She could feel his yearning, his desperation for power, to become the best in the world.

Wasn't that what she had wanted all along? How could she end his life in good conscience knowing he could do the same to her at any moment? Imagine if he had been the one sent down to hunt her, instead of vice versa; events would have been much more different then.

Instead of obeying her mind, the contract that she had made, she let her soul take over- for a precious second.

In a precious second, she saw herself in him one last time before her mortal eyes left his forever.

She sighed and let her eyes take in the landscape, exactly as it had been two years ago, one last time. Balthazar would be expecting her return…

"Excuse me, miss, is something wrong?"

Grace spun around, and looking down, she saw a very young boy standing behind her. He looked no more than seven or eight, dark brown hair streaking his head.

"Um…are you all right?" he asked timidly. "You seemed a little sad…"

"No, I'm fine." Grace said starkly, turning away. Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Shouldn't you be with your parents?"

There was a tiny bit of silence behind her before she heard, "They…um…they're not here. They were in the battle with the Balrogs a few days ago, and…"

Grace closed her eyes. Another soul had paid the price for her pursuit of power.

"I'm sorry." she said simply, before disappearing into the rays of the morning sun.

-----

"The time to strike is now."

Gault's voice was soft, yet it reverberated against the icy halls of Meteon E'traia as though it were a dragon's roar.

"_Are you sure?" _Balthazar Gazhevrog asked, his massive barrel arms folded across his chest as his wings unfurled around the icy spear on his back.

"Yes." Gault said, shooting the Balrog a look that would have broken stone. "Though the element of surprise may not rest with us, we cannot afford to lose any more time in making our assault. The longer we idle our time away, the more restless the Elaesians shall grow."

"_Excellent!" _Melchior snarled, his fangs bared with saliva dripping obscenely. _"I much prefer humans to the poor fare that scrounging in the forest provides!"_

"That is well and good, Melchior," Gault said coldly, "but if you profane this conversation with your idiosyncrasies for another second I am afraid I will have to kill you."

The Balrog fell silent at once.

"Elaesia is their stronghold." Ceraia murmured, kneeling upon the floor and tapping the icy surface with the tip of her wand. Light blossomed across the floor, creating a map of Victoria Island in miniature. "The other towns are either destroyed or uninhabited. We must center our forces there and constrict them."

"Hmph." Gault closed his eyes, lost in thought. "Even if we were to press upon them with all our forces, we would still be repulsed. I do not doubt Athena's strategies for defending her city were taken lightly."

"Then what would you suggest?" Ceraia murmured, glancing upwards.

"We have the Devil Three and demon spawn of the Sanctuary amongst our ranks," Gault murmured, still meditating to himself, "as well as you and the Fomorii. That, in addition to the fact that Grace Raizen is ours, makes our force very formidable indeed.

"Yet on the other hand, they control some of the greatest powers known to Bera. Keiga Seles, the legendary Dark Knight, as well as Aslan. Ark Wolfen, the remaining son of Rafael Wolfen and Avelyn Blade. Ryden, the son of Dracon himself. Rysdale Tales, Natalia Arundale, Traphes Igzarion, and Delinia Arklanser- the famed Devil Children of Henesys, as well as Athena herself, and each of their infantrymen could easily destroy ten to twenty of our demons on their own. Were it not for the absence of Rathias Gardner and Zeraion Phoenix, I should say such a direct attack would be futile."

He paused to exhale. "As it stands, we are evenly matched."

_"Perhaps one could suggest a plan for correcting this discrepancy." _Balthazar grunted, taciturn as ever. The Balrog's eyes, as usual, showed nothing except a resigned subservience.

Gault's eyes flickered towards Balthazar for a moment. "Yes, one could." he smiled coldly, as the Balrog remained silent. "We will attack at sundown as proceeded. You shall lead the spawn of the Sanctuary to the south gates of Elaesia, with an airborne division to attack from above, and Ceraia will advance the Fomorii against the north gate. Those two divisions will flank the sides of the city and surround Elaesia in its own grave. Grace Raizen will provide support should they attempt to overwhelm us."

"_And what of you, milord?" _Nebuchadnezzar growled. The large scimitar rested in its sheath on his back, its flames silently simmering in preparation for bloodshed.

A caustic smile lit up the bowmaster's features, his eyes glimmering with dark flames of excitement.

"I shall go and steal Athena's greatest treasure from under her gaze."

-----

"Checkmate."

With a motion of his wrist, Rathias Gardner toppled the ivory king from its pedestal onto the board, its opal crown hitting the jade surface with a soft crack.

Zeraion Phoenix sighed in exasperation and leaned back in his chair. "Best out of twenty-one?" he offered meekly, rumpling his hair.

"Don't trouble yourself." Gardner opened the drawers of the board and neatly filed the pieces back inside. "You put up a good fight for 38 moves- which was nearly twice as long as the previous game."

By now, Zeraion had gotten used to the bowmaster's double-edged compliments. "Thanks."

"Playtime's over." Gardner said flatly, the usual dry look of amusement gracing his features. "Go outside, if you will, and practice whatever suits your fancy."

Zeraion winced at the sound of the word 'practice'. "Anything in particular?" he muttered as he pushed aside his chair to leave.

"If it helps you survive against Gault, then it would be particular." Gardner replied, his cobalt gaze forcing Zeraion to look away.

Easing himself out through the door, Zeraion stretched out his arms in the sunlight and unsheathed the Abyssal Arund, limbs of spectral silver against the sky. He strung it with a deft motion of his arm and headed towards the waterfall.

He decided to limber himself up by running forty laps around the waterfall- then discarded the idea when he found himself growing tired after the twenty-fifth mark. Muttering unpleasantries under his breath, the ranger lay against the stone sides of the cataract to catch his breath for a moment.

_Really, I thought the one fated to save the world should have a little more spring in his step._

Zeraion winced as the telepathic voice radiated inside his head. Even after the months of carrying the legendary bow, he rarely got used to the strange sensation- it felt like someone was prodding his brain with a fishhook. "Shut up." he muttered, raising the bow to his shoulder as he cast the arte of Soul Arrow.

_A greeting would have been more appreciated, Zeraion._

Biting back the urge to say something more, Zeraion bleakly settled for "Good morning to you too, Athos."

_I've met stone golems with more affection in their eyes than you, dragon child._

"Three sarcastic comments in a row?" Zeraion huffed, directing a Strafe attack aimlessly towards the ground. The arrows pierced the grass in a perfect line several hundred feet away. "I think you've spent too much time around Rathias Gardner."

_Oh? If you dislike my banter, I suppose I could settle for taking control of your mind and forcing you to throw yourself off the nearest cliff. Of course, such an act would greatly impair the world's chances of survival, but I think it a risk we can afford._

"No, that won't be necessary." Zeraion mumbled, now unleashing a burst of flame from his bow with Inferno.

_Nevertheless, in any case, it is an intriguing prospect._

"What are you trying to say?!" Zeraion snapped, irritated by the spirit's constant jabs.

_What I am trying to say is that I wish you to put more focus in your training and close off your mind from outside distractions. You should be practicing your artes instead of being annoyed by my comments._

"My concentration doesn't give you the right to annoy hell out of me." Zeraion muttered, finishing the ensemble with a neatly-placed Final Attack blast that created a smoking crater in the grassland.

_I try. _Athos closed off the conversation with a flourish, leaving the ranger to his own devices.

After some more minutes of polishing his ranged techniques, Zeraion sheathed the bow and raised a thunder-charged lance from the air, sweeping it through the air in several practice maneuvers. Though his skill roughly rivaled that of a novice Dragon Knight, he had little to measure himself against, and so could only guess at his progress.

Lest he collapse from exhaustion sooner on, Zeraion paused to swallow the contents of a blue-tinted flask, then continued his array of slashes and stabs through the air, sparks lighting the sky for brief moments with each motion. He curved his arms in practiced, fluid movements, guarding and striking with equal measure.

After a few more minutes of practice, he finally felt that he needed some fresh air, and despite risking Gardner's wrath, decided to venture into the forest once more. Leaves drifted by his face as he entered the woodlands of the Isle, and though he was careful to avoid passing by any monster nests, he nearly jumped out of his skin several times when a squirrel or some other animal rustled the nearby bushes.

Leery of visiting Selena's statue once more, he tried to bypass the landmark knowing the pain it would bring, but he realized after near half an hour of walking that he was going in circles. Resigned to the fact that this would be the only place he could get some repose, he finally turned east and entered the clearing.

Aislinn Gardner's memorial still stood at the ancient elf's feet, a last testament to her existence by her older brother. The wreath lay near the picture of the four-year-old girl, entwined with a crimson ribbon. Her eyes seemed lifelike even in death, sparkling with happiness as she clenched ahold of her brother's arm.

Death had taken her at an early age, Zeraion reflected, and suddenly, he felt a pang of guilt inside his gut. Despite the fact that he'd had nothing to do with Aislinn's demise, being born years after her death, he still felt as though he was responsible somehow- that he should have done _something _to prevent her from falling into the void. He had seen death before, on the battlefields of Victoria Island- but this was so much more. This was an innocent girl who had had so much of her life awaiting her, and then it had all been taken away, leaving nothing but bitter memories and regrets behind.

For a moment, he hated Rathias Gardner- hated him for deserting his younger sibling, for causing her death- but then he realized that hating Aislinn's brother wouldn't bring her back, nor would it help his current situation. He realized in the back of his head that Rathias Gardner, as dry and emotionless as he had always been, had felt remorse when his baby sister had died. The only time he had ever seen the bowmaster show emotion, after all, was when he had mentioned her name.

If Rathias Gardner had perhaps treasured his sister more than his desires of power, she might still have been alive today.

_"She would have been thirty-one today." _The bowmaster's voice floated in the back of his head as a testament to her death, repeating itself like a death knell, and Zeraion felt a bitter taste in the back of his throat. She probably would have been just as beautiful in adulthood as in her youth, he thought. With a loving husband, perhaps, and children of her own…

Every time, the desire for power had caused the destruction of those that sought it. Gault had wanted to grant ultimate power to the bowmen, meddled with necromancy, and he had lost his sanity. Grace had explored the realms of forbidden magic, and she had paid with her humanity. Gardner, brilliant and infallible as he was, had lusted after power at a young age, and as a result, his sister was gone from him forever.

Zeraion glanced down at himself, the faint remnants of scars from years long past streaking his arms like distorted veins.

_I have chosen this path as well…What price shall I pay?_

He shook his head and let his eyes wander to the picture frame once more. He felt as though he should say something, but he didn't know any prayers, any hymns of that sort, and for a moment he was at a loss what to do.

Nervously, he exhaled before running a hand across his forehead and kneeling upon the ground, the earth soft against his hauberk. Closing his eyes, he touched the edge of the wreath and thought: _Have rest. Have rest forever._

He stood up once more and gave the memorial one last glance before turning away, realizing that Gardner would probably be suspicious at his prolonged absence by now. After a few minutes of quick backtracking, he heard the noise of the waterfall and knew he'd returned.

The bowmaster, true to Zeraion's suspicions, was standing at the edge of the tide pool, beads of water spraying across his face. His eyes, brilliant as they normally were, seemed magnified hundredfold in the facets of the water. It left an uncomfortable sensation across Zeraion's back- though he had gotten used to the bowmaster's gaze somewhat, it was unnerving nevertheless. He sometimes felt that Rathias Gardner could read minds.

Gardner caught Zeraion's gaze and raised a hand in greeting. "I do hope you've practiced some." he said as soon as his student was within earshot. Though Zeraion had expected sarcasm of some degree in his response, there was none.

He let his gaze wander briefly towards the sky for a moment before Gardner's voice jerked him out of his reverie. "If you need a rest, feel free to take one."

Slightly surprised, Zeraion could do little else but accept the bowmaster's offer. Quietly perching himself on the edge of a rock near the edge of the pool, he closed his eyes as the falls' spray splashed over his face. It was scintillating more than anything else, he thought.

"Ennui hasn't got the best of you these days, I hope." Gardner said, a little wryly, as Zeraion relaxed near the water. "I do realize that this may seem monotonous on occasion, but you must remember that there are far greater things at stake."

"Couldn't I at least learn something interesting?" Zeraion exhaled deeply into the air. "Like maybe Dragon Pulse or Hurricane, for instance?"

Like stone, the bowmaster's face hardened for a second before it reverted to normal. "You overestimate yourself, Phoenix. I do not wish to delve into a lecture on mana theory and mechanics while you are resting, but it goes without explanation that fourth-tier techniques are extremely difficult for a third-stage ranger to control." There was a slightly distant look on Gardner's face, as though he were recalling a previous memory. "You already bear the scars of Final Attack on your arms; I sincerely hope that they are the only marks you receive while training yourself. You still have difficulty casting Fire Phoenix, might I add."

"Well, how am I supposed to defeat Gault using Arrow Blow?" Zeraion muttered, the bit of sarcasm escaping his mouth without his noticing.

A leaf drifted from a nearby tree past Gardner's eyes. "You would have a greater chance of doing so than if you attempted to overtrain and ended up killing yourself of mana exhaustion."

Zeraion chewed on the tip of his tongue for a moment. "I- I know. It's just that…I feel like I should be doing more. The way Athena was going on about it, you would think I'd be able to blow up the world twenty times over after we were done here."

"Still, being able to use Final Attack, Thunder Spear, and Fire Phoenix at your level isn't exactly undertraining, Phoenix." Gardner said, a hint of seriousness mixed in his farcical tone.

"I wish I could become a Bowmaster." Zeraion said quietly, after a length of silence broken only by the crashing of the waterfall.

The bowmaster's pupils seemed to recede for a moment. "Phoenix, believe me when I say that you are advancing at a faster rate than any of my students, perhaps even faster than Gault, but even with the most optimistic forecasts, you still have at least six to nine months' worth of experience ahead of you before you can break that sacred barrier."

There was a second of uncomfortable silence between the two.

Crushing a pebble into dust under his foot, Zeraion sifted through his mind for a reply. "_You _did it. Your one goal in life was to become a Bowmaster, and you succeeded. You were the only person in recent history to have done so and survived. If you could do it…what's to stop me from doing the same?"

For a moment, Zeraion's gaze seemed to rival that of Gardner's himself.

Hiding whatever he was truly feeling behind a mask of amused indifference, Gardner replied in his usual biting manner. "I would not be an ideal role model for you to pursue, Phoenix. True, I did become a Bowmaster…and I did survive. However, I think it is worth confiding to you, for objectivity's sake, that that was not my true goal in training."

Zeraion blinked. "You did all that training…not because you wanted to become a Bowmaster, but for something else?" He gave an incredulous, disbelieving chuckle. "What on Bera could that other thing be?"

A ray of light fell across Gardner's features, illuminating his face for a brief moment. In that frame of time, he looked older than Zeraion had ever seen him, his face worn and experienced with the air of a man who has seen too much in one lifetime.

In a tone that was almost sad, the bowmaster spoke. "Someday, Zeraion, you shall seek that same thing yourself."

-----

Presumably, the nine people standing quietly in Athena Pieralasca's main office in Elaesia were a varied group. Some wielded blades or axes; others wielded bows. Some were young, and some were old. Some were excited, with the knowledge of what they were about to do fresh in their mind. Some merely looked resigned to their fate. Others seemed, perhaps, a bit scared. But whatever the case, they all had one thing in common; they were determined to defend the city of Henesys-Elaesia and all those inside it, no matter the cost.

Passing her units of interest with a firm, resolute air, the bowmistress of Henesys sighed deeply. She knew very well that the task she had imposed upon them was exceedingly dangerous. She also knew that there was a fair chance she would never see the faces that gazed at her now ever again. However, it was a risk she knew she would have to take.

That risk was merely one amongst the countless decisions she had already made.

"When can we expect an attack?" Aslan posed the question first, his voice blunt and to the point. He seemed to ignore the presence of the Dark Knight in the room.

"Every moment is one we should be on our guard." Athena answered, her copper tresses sweeping the floor. "I have no intention of this city being caught off-guard without a fight."

There was an almost tangible shudder through the room at the last word of her sentence, but no one dwelled on it for long. They knew very well that more lives could only be lost in the days to come, but there was no easy solution for that.

Resolutely, Athena turned around, her robes sweeping the floor, and began to pace back and forth past the individuals she had called as they stood in silence. "As the most experienced of all of you, Seles will guard the north gate of the city. To counterbalance that, Aslan will stand at the south gate." She noticed father and son exchange dark glances for the very briefest of moments before they returned to rapt attention.

"Ark, you will stand at the west side of the city to prevent them from outflanking us should the need arise. Ryden, you will do the same on the east side." Both warriors nodded as the bowmistress' gaze flickered to the bowmen in the room. "As for you five, you will provide support with ranged units. Rysdale, you will occupy the northwest side. Traphes, you will take the northeast; Delinia will go to the southeast; and Lisande will stay at the southwest."

The elf's almond eyes came to rest slowly on her niece. "And you, Natalia, will lead the anti-air division should Balrogs arrive."

"M-me?" The rangeress blinked shyly. "Rysdale, Traphes, and Delinia can all fly better than I can-"

Athena cut off her protests with a wave of her hand. "You underestimate yourself." she said, an unusually gentle smile on her face.

It was the first time she'd truly smiled in quite a while.

The quiet silence that followed was broken by the shuffling of Seles' greaves. "If that's all you need to say, Athena," he said, brushing auburn locks from his eyes, "I assume we may leave now."

"Yes, by all means." the bowmistress replied, waving them out. Her gesture and countenance was a bit cold, but no one could honestly blame her. She had been through more than any one person should ever have to deal with.

One by one, the warriors and bowmen filed past the threshold of the door, the burden of their new positions weighing heavily on their minds.

-----

"Not again." Colonel Luke Sinclaire moaned, his face buried in his hands. "Why, of all times, do we have to go into an emergency defensive lockdown now?"

"Better now than after the whole place is destroyed." Reneas Aries retorted, the sapphire limbs of his bow reflecting off the dim lamplight.

"I don't think Athena wants to take any chances." Gabriel Tauren huffed, his emerald-colored robes in contrast to the rangers' uniforms. He and Iris Gaiden were sitting on opposite sides of a couch facing a coffee table. Sinclaire and Reneas were on the other couch. "After what happened to Blade and Stalrigarde, a little more defense around the place couldn't hurt."

"And we thought the incident with the Balrogs a while back was bad." Reneas shrugged his shoulders and pawed dark hair from his face. "By the way, Gaiden, have you repaired Gamma yet?"

"Yes, almost." Iris' face showed little emotion. "The wings should be completely finished within the next couple of days."

"Good to know." The officers sat in stony silence for a moment. Silence was broken only by breathing- a sound that told them they were all alive, at least for one more moment.

The door opened, and all heads turned towards it- but it turned out to be nothing more than another pair of senior officers, their faces devoid of great emotion. Sinclaire and Reneas recognized one of them; her name was Rebecca Evalys, and she was a colonel under a different regiment of Alpha Division. Her bow, unlike Sinclaire's, was a shade of white. She had a golden ponytail that hung past her waist. The ranger watched her with some apprehension; he had never really been fond of Rebecca. She seemed to have a penchant for teasing him about anything and everything.

The other officer was older; in fact, he was the oldest in the room. His name was Lloyd Tennyson, though he was rarely called by his first name. Middle-aged, with slight wrinkles along his face and short, fair hair, he seemed rather out of place in the ranks of young, excited officers not yet disillusioned by war. He was of Beta Division, signified by a large Devil's Sunrise blade resting across his back. He had been offered a promotion in the recent past, but for whatever reason, had refused it, and therefore found himself taking orders from his contemporaries on more than one occasion.

Rebecca and Lloyd sat in chairs opposite each other around the coffee table, completing the ensemble. With the exception of Iris, everyone in the room had the rank of Colonel beneath their name.

"Luke." Rebecca spoke first, her voice rather crisp in the small room. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Sinclaire muttered.

"That…you know, you're engaged to Delinia Arklanser." A shadow flit over her face as she said that; indeed, Gabriel, Iris, and Lloyd had similar expressions as well. Only Reneas kept his composure somewhat.

"Yes, it is, and I would gladly prefer not to have to answer that question again for the rest of my life." The red-haired ranger reclined back in the couch, raising a leg onto the table. "Is it such a crime, anyway? I like her, and she likes me."

"She's one of the Devil Children." Lloyd said flatly, delivering the fact like a sack of bricks. He rested his fingers calmly on the wooden edge of the table.

"To hell with that." Sinclaire muttered. "How would you feel growing up without parents or friends? She-" He suddenly remembered what he'd promised Tales and Igzarion, and kept himself silent.

"I think Luke has the right to sleep with whomever he wants." Reneas said dryly. Though the remark carried little humor, it eased the tension in the air and brought a smile to some people's faces.

"If you want to sleep with someone, why not try for an elf girl?" Lloyd shrugged in his seat. "You never know."

Gabriel gave a condescending chuckle. "Please. You couldn't get near any of the elves in this place with a twenty-foot pole. They hate our bloody guts."

"Why are they even here in the first place?" Rebecca murmured, showing indirectly that she too disliked their presence. "We were doing fine until they seemed to show up from nowhere."

"It's all Aslan Seles' bloody fault." Reneas muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Sock one to him for me, will you?" he asked, turning to Lloyd.

Choosing to ignore the fact that the Paladin was several ranks higher than he, the elder swordsman smiled humorlessly. "I'll try." he said, before leaning back in his chair.

"Wish something interesting would happen." Sinclaire sighed, leaning his hand against a lampshade near the edge of the couch. "I think we've all forgotten why we're here in the first place by now, it's been so long."

"You were in the battle of Ellinia, you should remember more than anyone else." Iris snapped, her voice surprisingly cold.

Sinclaire raised his eyebrows- as did everyone else in the room. Briefly, Iris remembered where she was and checked herself. "I-I'm sorry, Colonel, I was…"

"It doesn't matter." The ranger sighed and turned his gaze upwards. "You're right, I guess. It's just…there's nothing going on and yet a lot of things are happening at the same time."

"I'm not even going to pretend I understood that." Reneas muttered under his breath, causing Rebecca and Lloyd to smile.

Gabriel, apparently having fallen half-asleep during the conversation, suddenly jerked awake. "Damn it!" he swore, loudly enough to startle everyone in the room.

"What is it?" Iris asked worriedly.

"No, nothing, I got a telepathic contact from someone in the Gamma wards." Gabriel snapped impatiently, putting a hand to his temples. "Quiet, or I won't be able to hear anything."

The rest of the officers fell silent as Gabriel spoke to whomever was calling him. "No…no, I didn't- oh, damn." he muttered, his voice falling.

The others' curiosity was not helped when Gabriel's voice rose again. "What?!" he shouted, his face turning pale, and Iris knew he didn't flinch easily- something was very wrong. "You've got to be…oh, Goddess be damned." His voice sharpened. "Tell Athena at once. I'll be there right away." He closed his eyes, severing the connection, before rising from his seat to leave.

"Wait." Iris' eyes remained focused on him, as did everyone else's. "What was that about?"

Gabriel exhaled through his teeth. "It's Schuyler Kusanagi. She went into exhaustion-induced shock ten minutes ago. We couldn't revive her."

Iris put a hand to her mouth, as the others looked revolted. It was sobering to realize that the sassy red-haired girl that had created the gravity arte and led the Ellinians against the incoming demons would never walk upon the earth again.

"However, that's not why I'm going." Gabriel muttered, turning away. "The wizards on duty in the medical ward say that she regained consciousness for a few seconds before she died. According to witnesses, her last words were that an entire contingent of ionic mass was heading towards the north gates of Elaesia, about thirty miles away- and that a similar-sized movement of mana mass was coming in the opposite direction, from the south."

"No…that's impossible." Iris gaped at her superior. "Even in a perfect physical state, she couldn't have detected ionic or mana masses from thirty miles. We've only done ten to twenty at best-"

"She could have…if the mass was indescribably large." Gabriel replied, his lips tightly drawn. "But I'm not worried about the mana mass- at worst, it'll be Balrogs, and a few divisions can handle those easy." His eyes seemed to stare off into the distance. "It's the ionic cloud we should be concerned with. The only beings in existence whose mana forms pure ions are ethereal demons- and if real demons are coming our way, then we've got one hell of a fight ahead of us."

Before anyone else could say any more, Gabriel teleported away in a flash of blue light, leaving the others in a shocked, deathly silence.

"They're here." Reneas whispered softly, his fingers clenched in a tight fist.

Miles away, as Ceraia Raizen led the Fomorii on the assault they had finally planned to achieve after so many years, and the Devil Three approached with thousands of their demonic kin, Gault Isentryx stood silently upon the pinnacle of Lith Harbor, overlooking what had once been his hometown.

_After all these years, I can finally take back what is rightfully mine._

He closed his eyes, and as the legendary Shinebow, Eternal Sonata, gleamed upon his back, he turned away and set his footsteps on the beaten paths of Victoria Road, to where the city of Henesys lay.

-----

The sun was rising over the sky as Ark Wolfen stood at the west side of Henesys-Elaesia, flanked by an advance guard of over a hundred warriors, neatly lined up behind him in straight ranks. Each of these warriors were highly trained, disciplined soldiers, ready to defend the city with their lives if need be. For each unit that fell in battle, five would replace him, and for each of those that fell, ten more would follow after. With the conglomeration of all the towns of Victoria into one city, Elaesia wanted little for population.

Still, as the hilts of the Twin Reavers rested in Ark's grasp, something told him that wouldn't really matter if something actually did come.

He was standing outside the gates of Elaesia, the invisible barrier just mere yards away from him. If need be, he and the rest of his units could retreat to the safety of the gates, separating themselves from the monsters for some precious time- but he rejected the possibility of that in his mind. After Ascion's death, he no longer feared for his own life.

He could only pray that he could see Zeraion once more before they parted.

Glancing off to the side, he could barely see the tiny, almost invisible outline of the taciturn sniper, Rysdale Tales, standing to the northwest, and Lisande in the distance to the southwest. He had never realized it before, but the size of Henesys had long since swelled since it had become the center of the island. He suddenly realized that his hundred troops seemed like nothing compared to the massive amount of perimeter they had to guard, and wondered if Athena had made reservations for this in her mind.

Ark gazed off into the distance, sunlight shining past his figure as the Twin Reavers lay at his side. Of all the days of the year, this seemed like the least likely for a full-scale invasion; the sun was bright in the heavens above, mere wisps of clouds streaking the sky like spun sugar. If not for the knowledge that somewhere, someone was trying to destroy the world as they knew it, this would have been a perfectly peaceful day.

Briefly, Ark's thoughts flickered back to the girl in Ellinia.

"_If we meet again, I promise I'll kill you." _he had said, his blood boiling within him.

And she had replied with _"We shall see."_

The blades grew heavy in his grip as perspiration began to dot his forehead, and he savagely wished that she would appear, so he could fulfill his role as avenger. He would kill or be killed, and either way, he would be satisfied with the outcome.

She was the only person he would never regret slaughtering.

"Are you all right?" a swordsman behind him asked, and Ark shook his head. "Yes, I'm fine."

It was a question that had been asked countless times within the walls of Elaesia- and a question that had always been answered with the same lie.

The hills gleamed with golden light in the distance, but Ark still couldn't shake the feeling that behind them, something truly terrible was coming.

-----

Aslan Seles stood at the south gate of Henesys-Elaesia, the heavy blade of silvered steel clutched in his grip as the soldiers behind him stood at rapt attention.

He briefly ran through all the elemental charges and technical artes he'd learned in his mind. Fire, ice, and lightning briefly hummed up the length of the greatsword in his hands before its glow dimmed to a soft white. Rush, Sanctuary, Grand Cross, Imperial Slaughter, Brimstone Tempest…all fancy names for abilities that only had one purpose; to destroy the evil that lurked in the shadows of the world, to defend the peace and uphold justice across the land.

He had known that since his ascension to the fourth-tier class of warriors; the master of holy magic and swordsmanship known to the world as the Paladin.

Imagine if he had become a Dark Knight instead, he thought. Whereas the Paladins were legendary in the status of households across Victoria, the Dark Knights were legendary as well- but for slightly less honorable reasons. Promised with eternal salvation and glory, they had been known for defecting to the Fomorii in the first Ancient War against Razier, and as a result, had borne the scars of necromancy all their lives. Darius Ryuuzaki himself had slain the leader of the Dark Knights in a duel before sacrificing himself for the good of the world.

He glanced at the blade of the sword, seeing his own reflection in its tempered edge, and exhaled softly. If nothing else, he would die fighting. He had nothing left to live for, anyway.

The soldiers behind him stirred somewhat, and Marron had to hold back a scowl as he turned back to his sword. His entire backup division consisted of about fifty elves and fifty humans- a fair enough prospect, if not for the racial animosities that existed between the two races. He supposed it was only their alliance in the Ancient War that kept them from slaughtering each other outright, but certainly, the fact that he was Seles' son didn't hurt.

Seles' son. That fact irked him more than anything. To Ark and Ryden, perhaps, he was Dariel Marron, namesake of Darius Ryuuzaki, but to the rest of the world, he was Keiga Seles' son, Aslan. Not the legendary Paladin, but rather the son of the legendary Dark Knight.

He gazed into the sky and wished he could see his mother.

He had never known her, but knew that she had to have existed. After all, if his blonde hair hadn't come from Kain Marron, it had to have come from somewhere, and neither Seles nor Kain had ever talked about her. It was as though they expected him to believe he had fallen from the sky without explanation.

Though he knew in the back of his mind she was gone forever, his heart sometimes wished she could be there. He would never know the woman that had given life to him, she who had once loved him more than anything else in the world. He could hold Kain Marron's base affection and Keiga Seles' teaching forever, but he knew that would never be a true substitute for a mother's love.

Both Ark Wolfen and Ryden Dracon had known their mothers, at least for a short period of time. He could only remember the solemn caress of hands he had never known before he had been taken, taken away from her and thrust into the destiny he was forced to live.

He stared into his sword once more, holy light reflecting off its edge, and remembered one thing about her.

She had beautiful blue eyes.

-----

The magicians in the research stations at Gamma Division winced when Gabriel Tauren's presence entered the room. People often said (out of hearing range) that he must have been a warrior at some point; his presence was all too domineering, and though his height was fairly average for his age, he could seem taller than he really was. Certainly, his snappy demeanor contributed to this image.

Iris Gaiden sighed as she gazed at her superior, a cold look in his eyes. Gabriel was brilliant- that much was true. He had been one of the star students in her class at the Ellinian Magic Academy before Ascion had arrived, and even so had still managed to graduate second in their class with high honors.

But where Gabriel was brilliant and cold, Ascion had been brilliant and…well, warm. Though he certainly had had his moments of reclusion, such as the episode with the healing arte, Ascion had never failed to lift spirits. Seeing him in contrast to the taller, and yet still dimmer mages that composed the officers had always made her smile.

His last message- the one he had written in those last moments- still rested in her heart.

_I love you, _he'd written in the same hands that had inscribed countless theorems of brilliance, and it was all the more painful because she knew it was true.

He could never have lied to her.

Gabriel's voice cut like a scalpel through the haze of her thoughts. "Goddess be damned, those ionic levels are off the charts."

"That's what we figured, Colonel." the mage sitting next to Gabriel said, his voice concise. He was the perfect soldier, hiding sarcasm and emotion behind flat formalities. "They're approaching fast, at twenty miles."

"I know. We'll probably be able to feel it ourselves within a half hour or so." Cracking his knuckles, Gabriel leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the table. "You've already told Athena, I hope?"

The mage nodded. "Yes."

"Good, then at least we've got that covered." His eyes flashed briefly as he thought out his next plan. "I need couriers sent to the guards outside the perimeter- Keiga Seles and the lot. Athena might have told them by now, but it wouldn't hurt to spread the news."

The mage nodded and muttered a spell under his breath, disappearing in a flash of turquoise light.

To everyone's surprise, Gabriel sat down in the empty seat and buried his face in his arms. There was an eerie silence as talk gradually faded in the room, and then it started up again, though much quieter than before.

Wondering whether or not it was the right thing to do, Iris walked over and touched his shoulder.

"Colonel Tauren?" she whispered, almost hoping he wouldn't awaken.

He muttered something into his arms, then raised his head to look at her. She was somewhat taken aback at what she saw- there were depressions under his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. She realized that maintaining the energy barrier around the city, despite mana equilibrium, had left him sleepless for quite some time.

"Is there anything you need, Gaiden?" Gabriel mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Um, I just…" Iris racked her brains for something to say. "It seems a bit odd for you to be napping when there's an ionic mass of Goddess-knows-what coming our way."

She expected a harsh rebuttal, but instead he merely gazed upwards. "Better now than never."

Silenced by the remark, Iris held off on saying anything more, her eyes turning to a paper lying on the desk. It had evidently been used by the other mages in the room, as there were equations and exclamation points scribbled all over it. The last line had been underlined and circled with extreme urgency: _Ionic mass of 80,000 kn (!) detected. Call Tauren now!!!_

Sighing, she touched the corner of the paper and wondered how many more, like Ascion, would have to pay with their lives before the day's end.

Gabriel's next words caught her completely off-guard.

"Ascion Blade could have done this a lot easier."

The remark brought a brief flash of pain upon hearing Ascion's name once more, but it also left an undercurrent of shock- Gabriel, the indignant classmate she'd once known never to give up on anything, sounded…resigned. She knew he was exhausted, but whether mentally or physically, she did not know.

They don't tell you this in the Ellinian Magic Academy, she heard him say in the back of her head, and she knew he was right. In a way, nothing could have prepared them for this- the death and destruction of the world about them. It was one thing to study the Ancient War in history class- it was quite another to live it.

"You're doing perfectly fine yourself." she whispered, resting her palm on his shoulder. It was a lie, a thin white lie that they both knew- but in a world where everything you know lives on borrowed time, lies become everything.

Gabriel stood up, and she heard the shuffle of his chair before she felt him briefly brush his lips against her forehead.

She stared up into his eyes, and he stared back. There was no lust, no love- just a simple act of conformation that they were still alive, nothing more. They both knew that there was no room for otherworldly affection in this fateful act of the play that had become their lives.

The priest turned away from her, his dark hair shadowing his face. "I've got to go. Athena's calling the Gamma Division reserves now." With a brief flick of his wrist, he disappeared into thin air.

Iris shook her head and collapsed into Gabriel's now-empty seat, her emerald hair fluttering past her shoulders. She, too, would have to join the reserves eventually, if the demons coming at them were really as powerful as they seemed…

She touched her forehead, still barely warm from Gabriel's kiss, and wished Ascion could be here with her.

-----

In the expanse of the blue sky, Natalia Arundale, mounted upon a large silver hawk, stared solemnly over the horizon. The sun above rained rays of light upon the airborne girl, illuminating her winged helmet and her golden bow. From below, she would have looked like an angel or valkyrie of some sort.

Cruel irony that instead of the angel she seemed, she was the daughter of the great devil himself.

She alone truly deserved the title "devil child", though her true nature was anything but. Of her friends- Tales, Igzarion, Arklanser- they had all been silenced by tragedy, their innocence lost forever at a young age. They had all been forced to grow up, so to speak- shunned by their peers, even by their elders, forced to survive with only the companionship of those like them.

They wanted nothing more than to fit in, they thought. They had searched all their lives for solutions to their problems. If only there had been an antiserum for Rysdale's sister- if only there existed a procedure to safely extricate Traphes' demon or Delinia's crystal! Perhaps, then, they might not have delved into the branches of arcane magic, truly became the devil children they had been branded as.

She sighed regretfully as her hawk circled through the air, the wind blowing past her face. The last meeting with her brother- or at least, what had seemed to be her brother- had changed her, though she never would have admitted it. To live knowing you've brought nothing except misery to those around you is torture greater than death, and she knew that firsthand.

She could share her friends' pain, but never remove it.

Lightning shined at her fingertips as she cast a backwards glance at the units that had been assigned to her. She noticed that roughly a hundred were human, but the rest were elves, who matched the humans one for one. It would be a nice task for her if they decided to forgo their alliances and resurrect old rivalries- but only the threat of the world's destruction kept them together. It was quite ironic, in a way.

"Hey…Natalia!" 

She turned her head, thinking the voice was rather familiar, and saw none else but the red-headed figure of Colonel Luke Sinclaire mere feet away from her, riding a hawk of his own. The wind whipped his hair underneath his helmet as they flew, giving him a rather handsome appearance- though she only noticed for a fraction of a second before she set the detail aside.

"Ah…Colonel!" She smiled in greeting. "It's so nice to see you…I didn't know you were part of the airborne division!"

"I volunteered." Sinclaire replied. His gaze flickered upwards for a moment before it returned to her. "Has Athena told you yet?"

"About what?" She quizzically glanced at him.

"About-" The expression that came across his face caused Natalia's cheerful mood to disappear instantly; she had never seen him this ominous before. "Goddess, she hasn't."

"What is it, Luke?" she asked, a bit more sharply this time.

He sighed and stopped in midair, allowing the hawk to hover. "Well, you might as well hear it now rather than later. I don't know how to tell you this, but the magicians in Gamma Division detected a colossal-sized range of ionic particle motion twenty or so miles from here."

"Ionic…oh, no." Though Arundale was no magician, she had had years of studying arcane artes in the Ellinian library to know what that meant. "It can't be." she finally whispered. "The ethereal demons…"

"I would hope it doesn't come to that, but at the very least, we should prepare for the worst." Sinclaire stated flatly. There was no trace of emotion in his voice, military discipline triumphing over his feelings.

"I-" Natalia gazed downwards. "Have the others been alerted yet?"

She saw the colonel's gaze flicker to Arklanser on the ground. "I think so. The couriers Gabriel sent can't be that inept…" His eyes returned to hers once more. "Also, this seems rather irrelevant compared to what I've just told you, but I think you should know that there's also been a large mass of mana movement in the opposite direction, towards the south. It's likely Balrogs."

Natalia shook her head. "Well, Balrogs we can manage. It's just…" She did not manage to finish her sentence.

Sinclaire sighed and turned away from her. "I know."

-----

The Fomorii glided silently along the paths of Victoria Island, their tracks unseen and unheard by any. They were now spirits, spirits of the water they had bound their lives and souls to so long ago. They had been human at one point, but that had long since been exchanged for temporary dreams of immortality.

Ceraia could sense their restlessness. She was their leader, master, and the one who had banished them to the seas hundreds of years ago when all had once been lost. But they were hers once more, ready to overturn the entire land of Victoria if they must. Anything to accomplish their ultimate goal: to bring the world into the hands of its true masters, the necromancers.

It was so ironic that she had been resurrected by that which she had summoned and vowed to defeat in the first place. Torn from eternal rest in the afterlife, she herself was the perfect example of that magic that she had sought to master her entire life.

She shook her head, waves of dark gold rippling through the air like water. The fools that claimed to practice dark artes today were nothing. Gravity hacks, speed boosters- they were child's play for her. With a single thought, a single incantation, she could slaughter countless and level cities.

She would show the world her true power after all these years.

-----

Balthazar Gazhevrog stared resentfully across the sky as though wishing to ascertain something in its depths.

Behind him flew the other two of the Devil Three, their weapons bared, their hungry maws thirsty for blood. Near him flew a massive cloud of Crimson Balrogs, their wings shielding the sun from the sky. Underneath on the ground, legions of Jr. Balrogs, Tauros, and Wild Kargos roamed, their fangs desperate to kill, to slaughter. They were relatively weak compared to the well-trained humans, but at the very least it was hoped their sheer numbers would break their defensive lines and overwhelm them.

Melchior flew closer to him and spoke something in a hissing, spitting dialect, a wide smile across his face. Balthazar responded by cursing at his subordinate in the demonic language before replying in the human tongue.

"_No, I do not wish to have an eating competition with you." _the ice-plated Balrog growled, his harsh tongue grating over the syllables. _"As enjoyable as I admit that sounds, we do not put our gluttonous needs among our battle duties. That task falls to the carrion vultures."_

The axewielding demon looked rather resentful, but closed his mouth without another word.

Nebuchadnezzar flew closer as well, the scimitar gleaming on his back. _"Where…is Raizen?" _he hissed, his claws and fangs bared.

"_Yes, I would like to know as well." _Melchior growled off to the side.

The ice-plated Balrog remained silent for some time before he responded with, _"She has her own path to follow."_

"If that is so," Nebuchadnezzar replied, "_then perhaps you may want to ask her what she is doing riding along with us."_

Balthazar spun around in midair, and to his ill-humor found Grace Raizen sitting stately on the back of a nearby Crimson Balrog, her blonde hair flying in the wind. Her spectral eyes gazed emotionlessly at the Balrog, seeing nothing and everything at once.

"_What are you doing here?" _Balthazar muttered, trying to sound as blasé as possible. Unfortunately, his tone was more annoyed than casual.

"I was following my own path…as you so eloquently put." Grace replied, lightning dancing at her fingers. "Apparently, Lord Isentryx seemed to think that the three of you would not be able to storm the south gate of Elaesia without my aid."

The Omega Balrog's dark pupils narrowed for a moment before he said, "_Send him my regards."_

-----

"We've got about fifteen minutes left."

Gabriel Tauren's voice was cold and blunt as he spoke to the small unit of magicians that had been placed under his command. He was the leader of a reinforcement squadron placed at the north gates of Elaesia, right behind the ranks of Keiga Seles.

"Fifteen minutes?" Iris gaped at him. "But they're still at least ten to fifteen miles away-"

"They were thirty miles away fifteen minutes ago." Gabriel stated flatly. Though his expression became less strict, his voice didn't. "Now, here's something really important I need to say: We're reinforcements. Not Goddess-damned frontline fighters; that's Beta Division's job. Our job is to make sure they don't die."

The rest of the magicians were silent as Gabriel continued his speech. "I can put a ward around you, but it's not going to hold forever. Believe me when I say that I'm not going to enjoy signing your death certificates…well, for most of you, anyway." he muttered, as the others looked half-amused and half-chagrined.

"What's your point, sir?" someone shouted from the back row.

Gabriel turned an icy eye towards the offender. "Always be prepared. You've already dug your own graves when you volunteered for this position; now it's your job to make sure you stay out of them. Don't decide to pull an Ascion Blade on us all and start blasting away like crazy. I won't be around to save your ass if that happens."

With a cold wave of his hand, Gabriel signaled the end of the council. "Fall out." he ordered, and the magicians dispersed themselves among the warriors' ranks.

Somehow or other, Iris found herself wandering near the front and saw Gabriel standing a few positions away from Seles at the head of the ranks, next to Lloyd, the middle-aged swordsman from before.

"Gab- Colonel!" she hissed, as Gabriel's dark-haired head turned to face her.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped coldly when he saw her.

She ignored his manner. "You're the one who told us not to take unnecessary risks, and here you are standing at the front!"

"I…am a commanding officer, Gaiden." Gabriel replied, his tone tempered and even. "As such, it is my duty to hold formation with the other high-ranked units at the frontlines." His gaze flickered past her. "Which reminds me, you should be two rows behind us." He pointed unceremoniously over his shoulder.

Once she was out of earshot, Iris cursed under her breath as she took a position next to a somber-looking swordsman near the middle of the ranks.

This was the moment of truth. She knew when the enemies arrived, she would no longer be Captain Iris Gaiden- just another unit, a resource, a statistic among thousands, trying to make sure she survived amongst the world's broad field of battle.

She knew that if Ascion had been here, at least he would have made her feel human.

"Bless, Magic Guard, Invincible." Gabriel chanted under his breath, and Iris felt an ethereal warmth envelop her as Gabriel's wards surrounded them all. Quietly, she muttered a few defensive spells of her own, knowing they would be all that stood between her life and her death.

"Holy Mother of Goddess!" someone gasped, and raising her head, Iris saw what everyone else did.

The hills miles away from Henesys seemed to be covered with water, thick waves of water rolling over the slopes of their own accord before crashing down. Yet, as Iris strained her eyes, looked closer…she saw that it was not water they were fighting, but countless individual spiritual figures, each without face, only a pair of glowing eyes. They were all of different shapes, sizes, and appearance, each with different weapons, but from a distance they seemed an entire uniform mass of aqueous substance.

Iris felt her hands go numb as her staff slipped in her hands, and as her heart beat, counting out the seconds she had left to live, she gazed upwards and thought she could see him once more.

-----

Natalia Arundale saw the waves first.

At the first sight of the water-like substance gliding eerily over the hills of Victoria Island towards them, she couldn't believe her eyes. It was as though an entire tidal wave had swallowed the entire north coast of Victoria Island, and the water was coming forward to drown all in its path.

Yet as she looked closer, her sight sharpened by her demonic blood, she saw that it was not a wild force of nature that they were fighting, but rather humans…or at least, human figures. She shuddered as she saw them- they had no face, only eyes, and though they came in all forms, she knew their goal was common- to destroy all in their path.

Noticing the elves shivering behind her, she realized that they had seen what she had as well, and though the humans, including Sinclaire, were more puzzled than worried at the sight of the water, she knew they would soon realize what they were up against as well.

Remembering what Sinclaire had said, she turned her eyes towards the south side of Henesys and saw, very faintly in the distance, the outline of what seemed a black cloud floating through the sky. It was much too far away to see clearly, even for her, but as she stared she could see individual shapes moving in the cloud, and she realized what they were at once.

The Balrogs were moving much slower than the Fomorii, but they would reach the south side eventually…and once that happened, Arundale finally concluded, all hell was going to break loose.

The rangeress reached up to her head and put a hand to her temples; she realized she had a headache. Of course, it was only natural- the realization of what they were going to have to face, coupled with her occasional demonic lapses and her current altitude, made pain inevitable. Behind her, she could see some people eyeing her worriedly, but there was no time to think about that now. With time, her headache would be the least of her worries.

Noting the speed at which the watery substance seemed to be moving, she grimly realized that they had about ten to fifteen minutes before they would get within range of the city; turning towards the Balrogs, she estimated that they would reach the city within twenty minutes to a half hour.

She swore silently, the words escaping her lips without sound, before clenching her fist. This was her home, and she had to defend it, no matter the cost.

Lightning seemed to explode from her wrist as a thin shaft of pure energy blossomed from her fingers, stretching out three feet in opposite directions from her hand. Breathing heavily as the exhaustion from the artificial arte overwhelmed her, she wiped perspiration from her face and balanced the lance of Gungnir in her right palm.

There were gasps of astonishment behind her as the elves watched her; one, soaring right next to her, could barely stammer, "How did you do that…human?"

Arundale turned her gaze away. She had no desire of telling them she was a half-elf, least of all a daughter of one of the former princesses of the elves. The mere suggestion of it would have provoked mutiny.

She merely said "I've practiced." before turning her gaze back to the hills, where the Fomorii were swarming towards them. "Be alert. They'll come within firing range within a few minutes- when that happens, give them no quarter." Her voice, collected and calm, sounded very different from her normal cheerful tone.

Briefly, she looked at the other Devil Children on the ground and wondered if they'd seen the Fomorii as well.

-----

Keiga Seles balanced the heavy Fairfrozen over his right shoulder as his left arm lay at his side. The Dark Knight's eyes were focused on the enemies that were rapidly approaching. From this distance, they looked like one single, cohesive mass, but upon closer inspection he saw that they were all individuals of the same group.

The fact that they could have covered so much ground in such a short time offered little solace to the advance guard stationed outside the city.

He raised the icy lance and made a practice spiral in the air with it, wielding the heavy spear as though it were a baton. Energy seemed to radiate from the auburn-haired warrior as he moved in the light, and the units under his command were totally aware of that. They were perfectly aware that with a single third release he could crush mountains and open the earth. It was both inspiring and yet at the same time, a little intimidating.

"They're coming fast." Lloyd murmured from behind, his gigantic sword drawn.

"Thank you, Colonel." Seles said, neatly sheathing the Fairfrozen with a sleek grating noise.

He saw robes move in the wind and felt someone touch his shoulder, and knew without looking who it was.

"Good afternoon, Keiga." Athena's voice was soft.

"Good afternoon, Athena." The Dark Knight kept his eyes focused on the horizon. "I hope you're enjoying the fresh air as much as I am."

"Quite." Seles didn't look back, but he could feel the bowmistress staring past his shoulder, and he knew she had seen the rolling water on the hills as well.

"So, the Fomorii have arrived at long last." she whispered, almost too softly to be heard.

"Yes." he agreed, nodding. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Where are the other elders?"

Athena chuckled humorlessly. "They seem to have been rather removed from public view lately, I'll admit." she said, running a hand through her copper hair. "As you know, Grendel is maintaining the barrier in Gamma Division's stead, and as for the other two…" She seemed to glance behind her. "They say they will join the fray if things get out of hand, but I sincerely hope you can stop their advance before then."

"I'll try." Seles smiled as well, though it faded quickly. "I do wish Rathias was here, however."

He couldn't see her face, but he knew it had changed, because there was a tangible silence between them afterwards.

"If only…" she whispered, her words nearly lost in the wind. "If only he…they…could just…"

She broke off the end of her sentence without saying anything more.

"Will you have the honor of joining us in battle?" The Dark Knight posed the question abruptly, giving her no time to evade it.

Athena seemed wistful for a moment before she replied, "We'll see."

"Don't trouble yourself." Seles chided. "You've gone in such a short time from being one of the four elders of Victoria to leader of the free world. It would not help anyone if you decided to take unnecessary risks."

"Everyone has taken unnecessary risks." Athena replied softly. "Rathias, Zeraion, even you. I cannot squirrel myself away safely while the rest of the world gambles with their lives."

Seles said nothing afterwards, merely continuing to gaze at the horizon.

There were five minutes left.

-----

"Damn." Luke Sinclaire whispered, his voice cutting the thin air. Though the weather below was fairly warm, the higher altitude had acquired an unpleasant wind chill, causing many of the airborne units to shiver. "They're closing in."

"Five…no, four minutes." Natalia Arundale replied, her voice mellowed to a calm monotone. The crystal-tipped spear lay firmly grasped in her right hand, its blade and hilt glowing a sharp white with electricity.

"We ought to shoot the whole lot down from here." Reneas Aries noted grimly, his aquamarine bow clutched in his grip.

"No, we can't." Arundale shook her head. "Even at this altitude, our arrows would land only a mile beyond the city limits, since the wind's blowing against us. We might get more distance if the shots were magic-assisted, but we can't waste valuable mana on a hasty preemptive strike."

Reneas blinked once before he settled for muttering, "It's cold."

"Then warm yourself up." Sinclaire growled, clenching a fist. "Inferno!" Within moments, a small flame was cradled in the palm of his hand, providing just enough warmth to stave off the cold.

"I think this cold air's actually doing your head some good." Reneas mumbled, casting the elemental arte himself.

"They're getting close now." Arundale's voice broke the silence. "About five miles away from us, I'd say."

"Good." Sinclaire cracked his knuckles and strung his bow. "Let's see how they feel when we pepper-spray them from above."

There was a sudden screech, and both Natalia and Reneas had to veer aside as a fourth hawk slid in between them and next to Sinclaire. Its rider turned out to be Rebecca, her bow gripped in her hand. A silver helm was mounted on her head, her ponytail flying in the breeze.

"Rebecca?" Sinclaire muttered, turning away. "What brings you up a few hundred feet in the air?"

"I volunteered…just like the rest of Epsilon and Sigma Regiment did." Rebecca stated matter-of-factly, giving her colleague a hawk-like stare. "Tell me, why on earth did you have to-"

She didn't need to finish her sentence.

"Leave it alone!" Sinclaire bellowed, so loudly that several people turned their heads towards him. "Why is this such a big deal to you? Are you afraid she's going to rip my head off one day or-"

"No, because…" Rebecca's voice was faint in the wind. "Because, um, I used to…like you."

Reneas wolf-whistled. "Another one for the little black book!"

"Shut up, Aries!" she snarled, whirling on him and hitting him in the side of the head with her bow. If not for his helmet, it would have left a sizable bruise. "I care about you, but I guess that doesn't mean anything to you, does it?"

"Listen, Evalys…" A gust of wind blew into Sinclaire's eyes, forcing him to close them briefly. "I care about you too. As a friend and a colleague. But this is-"

"It's what?!" Rebecca snapped, looking as though she was about to lose her balance any moment. "Is this because I don't have a big chest or-"

"Your chest is just fine." Reneas muttered under his breath.

She pretended not to have heard him. "What happened to you? I thought you would never have any reason to go off chasing after her!"

About to reply sharply, Sinclaire stopped himself and chose his words carefully. "I chased after her…for the same reasons you're chasing after me." he said calmly. "I happen to like her, and I think she's a very good companion…and I just want to be with her. And for the record," he added, "she was the one who proposed to me…not the other way around."

Rebecca's mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally stared at him, not saying anything. He was sure that she would have argued further, but the situation wouldn't allow it. Finally, she mustered the courage to say, "Well…take care…of yourself."

"You, too." Sinclaire nodded, and she flew off to join the ranks behind her.

"Girls." Reneas muttered under his breath. "Can't live with them, can't live without them."

Having silently sat through the conversation, Arundale turned her eyes towards the hills once more. Minutes had fallen to seconds in her mind, counting off the heartbeats until hell would arrive to Bera.

_300...270...240..._

There was no doubt that the people on the ground had seen the Fomorii as well, as she could see from above that the size of the advance guards stationed around the city were rapidly swelling.

_180...150...120..._

She tightened her grip on the bow, as the rest of the humans and elves strung their weapons as well. Once they were within 60 seconds' range of the city boundaries, she would give the order to fire.

It never came.

About two minutes and two miles from the city limits, the wave of water seemed to slow down, as though buffered by an invisible barrier. Gradually, it rolled at an almost peaceful pace, reduced to a mere stream of the raging wave it had once been…then it seemed to stop, hovering there in midair.

Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins for a painful moment as the water hung there. She had no means of knowing what the Fomorii were doing or were about to do, and she knew they hadn't come all this way just to stop and fall back when they were so near to their target.

Twenty tense seconds later, each moment an eternity, she got her answer.

The Fomorii began to move once more, but this time they did not move straight forward, nor move as one mass. They seemed to rush forward for a moment before the main stream divided itself into two charging masses, each heading off to the side.

"What…what are they doing?" she whispered, half to herself as the water continued to move forward, seemingly away from the city.

"Goddess!" Reneas gasped from behind, clutching a pocket spyglass to his eyes. "They're attempting to surround the city!"

Natalia's eyes flew open, thunderstruck. Yes, that was it. They were going to divide their forces and circumvent the front gates, instead flowing around and surrounding them, until they were trapped. Then they would have nowhere to hide, nowhere to run…

Her gaze flickered desperately to the dark cloud, now more noticeable, approaching behind them. Once the Balrogs and the lesser demons arrived, there would be little hope left for them…

If only there were some way to stop their inevitable charge- but to do so would be like firing stones with a slingshot at an approaching train. Besides, if they diverted their forces, they risked the Balrogs getting the upper hand over the south side's defenses.

Swiftly, Natalia made up her mind, knowing no matter what she did, she had to do something.

"Colonel." she commanded, and her voice was so different that Sinclaire flew up next to her without a word of protest.

"Yes?" he asked, seeing the urgency in his face.

"You control a force of a hundred in Epsilon and Sigma Regiments. Divide them into twenty ranks, each with five units, and tell them to prepare to charge. I shall do the same with the elven forces. Once we have two squadrons of a hundred units each, go down and tell the commanders at the west and east side- Ark Wolfen and Ryden Dracon- to cordon off the south half of Henesys. They must prevent them from reaching it at all costs."

"Charge?" Sinclaire blinked uncertainly, surprised at her words and the tone with which they were spoken.

"Yes, charge." Natalia gazed at the Fomorii, almost halfway around the city perimeter. "If we don't stop them from surrounding the city, who will?"

"But-" The auburn-haired ranger's voice died as Natalia turned towards him, and he could see the demon's blood flowing hot in her veins as Gungnir tightened in her grip. She was determined to die here and now if need be to protect the last bastion of sanity upon this earth.

That was a duty they all carried in their hearts, and he knew it.

As Arundale gazed into Sinclaire's shadowed eyes, she briefly feared he would not accept the orders.

Then, without another word, he nodded.

"All right."

She turned and communicated her orders to the apparent leader of the elves, a tall, haughty silver-haired ranger with hardened features. He accepted her words without protest, though she noticed his eyes fixated on Gungnir as they spoke. Within minutes, both Sinclaire's forces and the elves had divided themselves into four separate blocks of fifty soldiers each.

"Good." Natalia said, feeling as though her voice did not belong to her any more. It was as though Razier's hot blood had taken control of her words. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sinclaire and Reneas flying downwards in opposite directions to deliver her message. "I will take command of these two divisions," she said, pointing at two blocks of elven rangers, "and the rest of you will serve under Colonel Sinclaire when he returns."

Someone- Rebecca- spoke up. "What are we supposed to be doing in the first place?"

Feeling the headache worsen inside her skull, Arundale had to massage her forehead for a moment before she replied. "We must stop the water demons' advances to the south side. If they surround us, we have no way of defending ourselves when the Balrogs arrive." She pointed an arm in the direction of the cloud of Crimson Balrogs and the other monsters, which looked much closer now, as they could see the outlines of the demons within it. The units stared at it hovering ominously in the distance before they returned their rapt attention towards her.

"Sinclaire and I will dive towards the lines and fire at them. With luck, and if the ground forces aid us, we may be able to prevent them from surrounding us. They may be able to return fire, and they may not. We don't know yet at this point. Evade if you must, but _do not _break formation. It will only make it easier for them to hit us if we spread out."

As she completed her monologue, she was interrupted by a screech from the side and saw Sinclaire and Reneas flying back towards them.

"They've been informed." he said shortly as she came within hearing range.

"Good." With the faintest trace of a smile on her face, she brushed hair from her eyes and stared into the distance. "Would you like to take the west or east side?"

She saw his eyes flicker downwards before he replied stoically, "The east."

Their eyes met once before she said quietly, "Good luck, Luke."

He was silent for a moment. "Same to you."

Without another word, the rows of archers began to assemble behind their respective leaders in neat rows of five until twenty ranks of soldiers were hovering behind both Arundale and Sinclaire, like streamers in the wind.

She glanced behind her and saw the same thing written on both their faces:

_Let's go._

-----

"Blockade the south side, she said." Ark Wolfen muttered under his breath, kicking dust into the air with the heels of his greaves. "As if that were the easiest thing in the world to do."

His advance guard had slowly swelled from one hundred to close to double that amount, as the size of the advancing enemy had caused him to check and recheck his assets. Though the size of the company he possessed- over a hundred able-bodied crusaders, white knights, and dragon knights mingled with expert healers and stealth assassins- would have been hard to defeat in any situation, he still felt hopelessly outnumbered by the rolling waves of water-like demons that were gliding towards them.

He knew he would have felt hopelessly outnumbered regardless of whether he had been given three hundred, five hundred, or even a thousand.

The Twin Reavers shined over his shoulders like beacons, seeming to lead the way to victory. Yet Ark knew regardless of whether they won or lost, death was inevitable. He guessed he would lose at least half of his units by day's end. Most likely more.

As the Fomorii advanced towards his line, death in their soulless eyes, Ark grit his teeth. Though he was loath to admit it, he knew Natalia was right. If they were surrounded, they would have hell to pay if they intended to get through this alive.

"Fall out." he ordered, pointing the Soul Reaver further west of the city. As though understanding his intentions, the units under his control divided themselves, stretching their ranks until they measured well over a thousand feet from left to right.

It was then that they heard the howl.

Up until this moment, the ancient demons had remained silent, the only sound being the soft, almost silent whisper of water sliding along the hills. Now, with their targets in range, they let out an inhuman howl that sent shock waves shooting up Ark's spine. It felt as though someone were scraping a thousand knives on a gigantic chalkboard.

"Don't hesitate to fight." Ark growled, determination gradually replacing fear in his veins until only a raging fury was left. He would kill, kill and slaughter until there was nothing left, until he or all the rest were dead. Behind him, his soldiers nodded solemnly, their hands tightly gripping their weapons.

He suddenly felt a shock in the back of his head, as though someone had poured ice water on him. Swearing, he put a hand to his temples and looked around, as those around him eyed him strangely- only to hear a familiar voice resonate in his head. _Ark?_

The voice was strangely soft and feminine, and it took the crusader a moment to recognize Natalia Arundale's voice.

_My apologies for intruding inside your mind. I know it feels uncomfortable, but I couldn't fly down to meet you in person, seeing as how we've already assembled formation and they're gaining on us. They'll be within firing range in seconds._

Unsure of how to respond, he thought: _Any other advice?_

Yes. We'll be attacking soon, so don't charge forward just yet. Wait until you see the signal.

_What kind of signal?_

You'll know. He felt Arundale's presence fade away from his mind, leaving his thoughts clear. A sudden gasp from the sides brought his attention up for a moment; the Fomorii had finally come within direct range. They were a mere two thousand feet away, and advancing at such a speed that he knew they would arrive within a fraction of a minute.

Sweat slid down the back of his neck as he tensed himself, preparing to charge. _It's now or never._

Suddenly, a hawk's cry split the silence, and Ark looked up in time to see Natalia Arundale flying towards the Fomorii at breakneck speed, her bow raised and aimed. She was flanked by at least a hundred more archers, their weapons primed as well. They moved perfectly in formation, moving as one gigantic stream instead of a hundred individuals.

Raising the Twin Reavers and letting out a ferocious roar, Ark charged forward, followed by over two hundred deadly fighters. As the gap between the two opposing sides rapidly closed, he saw Arundale suddenly launch into a dive, the other airborne units following after, and watched as they unleashed over four hundred arrows into the heart of the demons below. Many of them shrieked as the shafts of light pierced them, vanishing into the air, but the majority of them remained unscathed, still rushing towards them in a deadly onslaught.

Without hesitation, he took one look at his opponent- a large Fomor, with rushing translucent hair, a shimmering greatsword raised between his hands- before driving forward with all the strength he could muster. He struck his foe directly through the chest, the blade of the Soul Reaver piercing the water effortlessly. The demon's eyes widened as it gave a great howl, and then its body disintegrated into water, splashing into a puddle near Ark's feet.

Ark grinned manically as he thrust forward again and again, stabbing his opponents in a brilliant storm of flames with his left arm and hacking them aside with great icy cleaves using his right.

_They are inhuman…but not immortal._

Unhindered even as the aqueous fiends surrounded him, he lunged and stabbed with a fury that only Hell could give him. Nothing was immune to him as he carved brilliant bursts of flame through his enemies and crushed their shimmering bodies with onslaughts of ice. He was determined to slaughter those that had killed his brother, send them to the afterlife they truly deserved. A Fomor only need get within arms' length of the crusader before they were mercilessly impaled or torn apart by a blade of iridescent red or blue. He was invincible, drunk upon his own bloodlust.

He heard another shriek resonate through the sky and saw Natalia's forces turn around in midair, preparing for another dive. With unerring accuracy, she and the other archers loosed a brilliant storm of shimmering arrows upon the fight, each arrow deftly avoiding the head of a human fighter before burying itself in the chest of an ethereal demon. Fired with the resolve of their leader and the air support, many of the other units charged forward as well, hoping to make a name for themselves as one of the heroes of Bera.

Yet for the humans' seemingly undefeatable courage and valor, they were- as Ark and Natalia had predicted- greatly outnumbered. A Dragon Knight near Ark barely had time to stab one of the Fomorii through the heart before being cleaved aside himself by another of its companions. Another assassin, caught between an incoming group of shadowed swordsmen, could only scream as the blades descended upon him.

Breathing heavily as he crushed aside another one of the countless demons in a gust of icy wind, Ark cast a despairing gaze across the plains. The Fomorii had already swarmed the upper half of the city in sheer numbers, smothering it in a watery grave. He swore and grit his teeth.

They had a long fight ahead of them.

Renewed fury rising in his veins, Ark crossed his blades and cast Angel Pyre, bursts of light ripping up the ground like paper and skewering aside large groups of the spirits, leaving nothing but lifeless water behind. He expected fatigue from the arcane arte, but felt nothing- apparently, the Twin Reavers had somehow greatly increased his mana capacity.

Fired with this revelation, he charged forward with renewed vigor and watched in satisfaction as he applied his knowledge of technical and arcane artes to his battle methods. Power Strike and Slash Blast had gone from being weak techniques to deadly killers, ions of flame and ice streaking the air with each thrust as yet another demon fell. Each technique he used allowed him an opportunity to lash out with Final Attack, the familiar sensation of the energy releases greeting him once more. Entire parties of Fomorii could be wiped out in a single motion as he slashed the ground with the Twin Reavers, setting off shockwaves of fire and ice around him.

Dashing forward into a large group of the fiends, Ark charged forward with an uppercut from his left wrist and a sideways slash with his right, the bodies of two more foes melting across the ground. Immediately, at least four blades came hurtling towards him in response, but he ducked low enough so that the spectral swords missed him and crossed each other instead. Before they could react, he broke their guards with a sudden upwards thrust from below and swung the sapphire axe in a wide arc. The Slash Blast sent icy droplets hurtling through the air as the axe felled its enemies with ease.

The units behind Ark fared no worse than their commander, working in combination to defeat the sheer numbers that were thrown at them. A priest nearby stunned the foes descending upon him with a Heal spell, giving his companions time to cut them to liquid ribbons. Bandits hurled coins among their foes before detonating them with explosions that shook the landscape.

Raising his head to catch a brief view of the plains before more demons attacked, Ark could see more companies of Elaesian soldiers dueling against the incoming waves, managing to hold them off from breaching the city limits, at least for one more moment.

_I wonder how everyone else is doing, _he thought briefly, before another group of fiends lunged towards him and seized his attention back to the battle once more.

-----

Very few people had truly seen Keiga Seles before this moment.

They had all heard of him, of course. He was the legend, the ultimate Dark Knight, the master of all warriors. He had become a Dragon Knight and defeated Zakum's raging spirit in his teens, and had managed to master the secrets of the third release mere years later.

They knew he had went into exile on Ossyria for thirteen years, but even those who had friends or relatives in the continent knew little. Some swore that they might have seen him in the Snowfields hunting lycanthropes; others thought they might have glimpsed him meditating in the depths of Zakum Dungeon, striking down Bains and Cerebes as though they were snails.

After he had returned, he was no longer the headstrong teenager he had once been. He was older, taller. His hair had been allowed to grow somewhat, reaching past his shoulders. He'd changed, just like the rest of them, but in a different way.

It was as though time had aged his soul- though he walked and talked like a thirty-year old, one would have been inclined to believe he was twice that age. He was taciturn, spoke little, and barely chanced a gaze up at passersby in the streets. In fact, his cold demeanor had earned him the unofficial title "Keiga the Mant."

Those very same people that might have caught a glimpse of him in his teenage years as a grade-schooler were now about to serve under him in battle, raise their blades with his as they fought to save their home. It was, in a word, surreal.

"I hope you'll be able to keep your reputation after this mess is over." Colonel Lloyd Tennyson had said to him ten minutes ago. Though the swordsman was actually a year older than the Dark Knight, he spoke as if to a teacher.

Seles had chanced a brief smile as he stared outwards into the watery horizon. "Worry more for yourself than for me, Lloyd." he'd said shortly.

And now, as the Fomorii rushed about them, threatening to drown them in their waves, Lloyd and the rest of his regiment saw for the first time why the Dark Knight's name had been so reverently uttered by their parents and teachers.

If the Fomorii could ever break the Elaesian lines, they would not have done so through the north gate. Without battle cry, without fanfare or glory, Seles had merely charged, running forward across the grass as though he intended to stop the wave with his bare hands.

The blade of the spear seemed to hang in the air one second, and then it disappeared- and suddenly, one of the Fomorii fell, its arms flailing helplessly as it crashed to the ground in a splash of lifeless water.

Lloyd barely had time to catch Seles' eyes before the Dark Knight spun once more- and two more demons fell, crashing to the ground, their fallen forms absorbed by the thirsty dirt. The Fomorii continued to stream towards him, their weapons raised.

"_Fall to the might of the dracomancers…" _Lloyd heard him whisper, the water streaming around them. "_Dragon Roar!"_

Seles' arte seemed to blow the world apart, the glowing blade of the Fairfrozen erupting forth with waves of brilliant lavender energy. Warriors, magicians, and thieves saw demons blown away in front of their eyes, droplets of water shooting through the air.

Anyone else would have succumbed to exhaustion after casting the spell, but before anyone could make a move the Dark Knight struck again. Even a two-handed spearman would have been hard-pressed to move at that rate of speed, but Seles' speed was…inhuman. Each motion of his wrist, each sweep of his arm crushed the Fomorii into the ground or threw them through the air before they disintegrated into water. His attacks were relentless, furious…even Lloyd could tell he was using mana at a prodigal rate, and yet nothing happened. It was as if fatigue simply refused to touch him.

It was all Lloyd could do to keep his mind focused on both the fight and Seles as he fended off a blow from a nearby demon and stabbed it through the chest. Its eyes widened before it gave a soundless howl and melted away; sensing danger behind him, he spun around in time to slash apart another Fomor, its body collapsing into a shapeless puddle.

His eyes closed, Seles spun on his feet and charged forward, stabbing the Fairfrozen upwards. The earth beneath seemed to shimmer before it pulled itself up, great stalactites of rock spearing the watery fiends where they stood. As if anticipating their move, he sidestepped and drew back, throwing his weight forward. Lloyd could see the gigantic, iridescent shape of dragon wings flash through the air as a shockwave ripped apart the air, throwing aside a large line of Fomorii and clearing a wide swath through their lines.

Fire gleamed in the Dark Knight's eyes as he charged forward, determined as much as anyone else to destroy the watery foes that were threatening their lands. He lunged with an uppercut towards the nearest Fomorii, throwing its body into the air; before it could react, he leaped up and counterslashed it in midair, pile driving it back into the ground and taking out a group of its fellows.

Landing squarely on his feet, Seles faced the immovable wall of water towards him, raised his Fairfrozen glistening with watery blood, and closed his eyes.

-----

"_Die, beast!" he yelled, bringing the desperate blade of the shimmering Redemption down onto his foe's head._

_The lycanthrope barely had time to roar as the blunt head of the spear drove into its skull. Giving one last, feeble snarl, it froze limply and dropped to the ground with a thud that shook the snowy mountain._

"_That's another one." Seles muttered, dismounting the dead wolf and beginning to chop its nails off with the edge of the spear. "Another two hundred and we might be able to buy you a birthday present, Blade."_

Avelyn's frostbitten cheeks were slightly pink, but she said nothing.

"_Ah, yes, I'd nearly forgotten." Dracon's calm voice resounded against the valley walls, both firm and reassuring at once. "Happy twenty-first, Avelyn."_

"Thank you, both of you." she replied, brushing snowflakes from her hair. Her five month-pregnant stomach bulged from her body, protected by a solid, curved plate of watered adamantine steel.

"_You might want to be careful with that, Blade." Seles crudely put in, pointing his lance at her. "What if you accidentally slip and the poor kid turns out mentally retarded or something?"_

Avelyn's face flushed. "It's none of your business what I do with my children, Keiga."

"I never thought I'd be saying this in my lifetime, but he does have a point." Dracon bluntly put in, causing pink smears to appear on both crusader and dragon knight's cheeks. 

"_I couldn't have you two going wolf hunting without me." Avelyn smiled, shouldering her sword. "Besides, I need the money. You know poor Rafael's working for peanuts in Ellinia." She shook her head and laughed humorlessly. "Pity that supervisor of his, Tales, bossing them around all day…I'd like him to come up to the Snowfield sometime and see how much he enjoys it."_

"_Interesting thought." Seles gathered the severed nails and added them to the growing pile of monster leftovers in the bloodstained snow. "You're sure you'll be all right?"_

"Of course." she said, a bit of annoyance in her voice. "I wouldn't have brought him here if you two weren't around to protect me." She smiled teasingly.

"_And don't think we don't enjoy it." Dracon said, casting a weary glance around before folding his arms and leaning against the cliffside. "How are you so sure it's going to be a boy?"_

"Oh, I don't know yet." Avelyn sighed, relaxing back and petting her swollen womb. "We could always find out early, but…you know, I like the suspense. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's going to be a boy." She glanced down at herself. "He's quite aggressive sometimes."

"Like mother, like son." Seles muttered, lying back in the snow as well. "What are you going to name it?"

"Well…we haven't really talked about that much." Avelyn admitted, her chocolate hair flying in the icy wind. "If it is a girl, Rafael wanted to name it after me, and I'm fine with that. But if it's a boy…" She smiled thoughtfully. "I'd like to name him Ark."

"Ark?" Seles nodded, not really paying attention. "That's a nice name. Where'd you get it from?"

"It's the first letters of my name, Rafael's name, and your name in order." She glanced at him as though seeking his approval, and for a brief minute, he felt a moment of warmth in his chest.

"_Well, I suppose 'Ard' wouldn't have much of a ring to it anyway." Dracon muttered, sliding his hands into his pockets in mock depression._

"_Maybe Ark and Aslan will be good friends someday." Avelyn wondered out loud, lying back in the snow._

_Seles felt the warmth being replaced by momentary pain. _

"_Yes, perhaps." he nodded._

-----

The Fomorii threw themselves forward at the frontlines, intending to break it, but to no avail. At least for now, the Elaesian reserves held their positions. Cold steel and magic pierced the air, electrifying the atmosphere. Both human and fiend alike could barely move without being hit or almost being hit by an incoming attack.

Through it all, Keiga Seles stood at the head of the north forces, unleashing his power upon the unfortunate souls that dared wander near their last home.

Seizing his spear tightly, he dashed forward before vaulting through the air, spinning himself forward in a spiral cut. As the Fomorii soared up to intercept him, they met a swift end as the cold edge of the Fairfrozen ripped curved gashes through their watery forms. Seles landed on his feet just in time to drive back another group of demons with a forward drive, energy exploding through the air as a dragon-like burst of lightning barreled through the sea of fallen souls.

_Am I…really fighting…the souls of the dead necromancers?_

The Fomorii leaped at him with instinct that seemed more animal than man, not caring how they threw themselves at him as long as they made sure he was dead. Some, indeed, even bounded forward on all fours, their weapons clenched in their mouths. When they leaped, their silhouettes gleamed for a moment in the sun, before they descended upon their victim.

However, none of them touched him- the Fairfrozen made sure of that. Any fiend that dared to show any part of its body within ten feet of him was immediately cut down. His right wrist alone seemed to be more agile than two hands, the fingers forcing the spear through the air effortlessly like a baton of death. The blade could be flying in one direction before abruptly cutting another's head mere seconds later.

"Keiga!" The sound of Lloyd's voice could be heard even across the din, and Seles raised his head to see the middle-aged swordsman rushing towards him. "Are you all right?"

"No more than you are, Lloyd." Seles exhaled briefly. "How are the others?"

"Good, I should say." Lloyd muttered vaguely. "You seem to be providing half of all the kills of the entire damned Alpha Division in Elaesia."

"Only fifty percent?" Seles quipped humorlessly. He hadn't meant to make the joke, but it had unconsciously slipped out.

"Panic!" Lloyd roared, abruptly driving back an incoming Fomor in a sudden burst of sparks and steel, as water showered across his face. "Forty-nine now."

"You never cease to amuse me, Tennyson." Seles muttered- the swordsman had been a student in his classes at the Perion Guard Academy. "But I suppose I could use some company, after all."

"Will do." Lloyd nodded, slashing the air as both warriors fought back-to-back, each fending off attacks for the other. Steel and ice sunk through the translucent bodies of the Fomorii without resistance, water soaking the ground.

"Shoot!" Lloyd suddenly called. "There's a huge line of those bloody bastards heading straight for us from the north! At this rate, they'll go through us like hot butter!"

Following Lloyd's gaze, Seles looked up. Sure enough, there was a ballista-like formation of water heading towards them, not as individuals, but as one. It was their version of a battering ram, Seles noted, determined to cause as much damage as possible without regard to their own being. He could hear screams as the Fomorii began to rip through the humans' ranks, their bodies tossed aside unceremoniously.

"Damn." Seles cursed, gripping the Fairfrozen. "Don't bother following me. This could get nasty."

"Wasn't going to." Lloyd muttered, having enough in his own hands to deal with. His eyes watched the tails of Seles' cape disappear into the wind for a second, and then he returned once more to being a pawn in the great game of war.

Slashing aside any enemy that dared stand in his way, Seles charged forward and dealt the entire formation a sharp blow in its center, blowing several Fomorii through the air with a single Dragon Buster arte. The rest of the demons seemed to turn their gazes towards him before regrouping and charging towards him, attempting to swarm him.

_It seems they haven't learned their lesson yet. _"Riving Gale!"

The lance glowed with emerald energy before it exploded, firing a deadly series of hardened wind blades from its serrated edge directly into the heart of the charging horde. The water bound fiends were blown away completely by the force of the attack, toppling like tenpins and clearing a path through the haze.

_No time to waste, _his battle instincts commanded, and without pausing he dove into the fray once more, carving the Fairfrozen through the air with impeccable skill, splattering the ground with spectral water with each stroke. His speed was such that he could strike a single enemy multiple times in midair, throwing it upwards before driving it back down into the ground for eternity. The spear seemed to stab each of its enemies and throw it through the air in fractions of a second, so blinding was its speed.

Seles drove himself onward, knowing that he had to fight to survive. Fight to live another day, fight for the world, for if he didn't, who would?

He crushed the head of one of his foes with a downwards cleave, ducked to avoid an incoming stab and counterattacked with a forward thrust that sent a spray of his opponent hurtling through the air. Stab, slash, strike. Power Strike, Hyper Body, Dragon Buster. It was essentially a question of how long you could keep the charade up.

The Fomorii flooded around Seles as quickly as he cut them down; when the head of one fell to the soaked ground, another two would flow forward to replace it. The Dark Knight's greaves were heavily stained with mud, hindering his speed as he struggled to keep his balance.

He knew it had to happen sooner or later, but he still felt trepidation rise inside him when he found himself surrounded by nothing except Fomorii. They had cut him off from the rest of his division, gently filling the empty lines that his lance had left in their ranks until there was nothing left.

Without flinching, Seles stood up and faced his enemies, holding the spear aloft. They seemed to hover about him, circling, yet still not daring to come nearer, having seen enough of their kind cut down by his blade already.

He closed his eyes, and thought of snow.

_Damned if I have to die without protecting Avelyn and Dracon's children…and my own._

There were any number of wide-range artes he could cast to rid himself of them, but he knew such a maneuver would drain him faster as opposed to brute fighting, knowing they would reinforce themselves as quickly as he destroyed them.

"Return to the hell from whence you belong!" Seles roared, charging forward. The frozen lance was clutched firmly in the grip of his right hand, and as the Fomorii began to charge, he flung it forward like a javelin, its razor point sluicing through the air. It struck down an entire line of the fiends, clearing a small path for a precious second.

His fists clenched, the Dark Knight dashed forward across the ground, particles of mud flying through the air. The Fomorii surged closer, as if sensing his weakness. One dared to raise its shimmering sword towards him, malice in its eyes; he dived aside to evade the blow, mud staining his front.

"Power Guard!" Seles commanded, raising a wrist to block the incoming blade that was heading towards his neck. Fortified by mana, the blade sliced across his plates; yet though the metal was rent, the flesh underneath suffered no damage, apart from a slight weal across his skin. He smashed his right fist into the thing's face and earned himself a very brief second as it staggered back.

Even as the Fomorii bore down upon him, Seles forced himself to stay calm. He would only survive if he retrieved his spear, and it was a few paces away. If only he could just stun them-

"_Celestial Awakening!"_

The sky seemed to shimmer above Seles' head before it ripped itself open, beams of light exploding from thin air and raining down upon the enemies that surrounded him. The Fomorii staggered and fell as the holy arrows pierced their bodies; seizing the opportunity, Seles burst across the mud-slicked ground and wrenched the Fairfrozen from the wet soil.

Wiping dirt stains and perspiration from his forehead, Gabriel Tauren rushed across the path he'd cleared. "Are you all right?!" he shouted.

"Frankly, I could be better, but I'm not complaining." Seles remained fairly impassive for someone who had been surrounded by ethereal demons moments ago. "And you?"

"I'm not complaining either." Gabriel shrugged, spitting onto the ground. "Thank the Goddess I got here in time-"

"I appreciate the aid, but I'm doing perfectly fine on my own." Seles said impassively, crushing an incoming Fomor into the ground with the blade of his frozen spear.

Gabriel blinked nonplussedly before he said, "No…no, not that." He brushed dark hair from his eyes and ran to the Dark Knight's side. "I just received news from the south gate of Elaesia, and-"

"What's happened?" Seles abruptly said, fixing the priest with a stern glare.

Gabriel took a step backwards. "The Balrogs…they've arrived at last."

-----

"While Ark and Ryden are guarding the west and east sides, I get to lead the welcoming committee." Aslan Seles muttered humorlessly under his breath as he drove the edge of his Heaven's Gate into the Tauromacis nearest him. The beast let out a ferocious roar before it crumpled lifelessly.

The Balrogs, true to Gabriel Tauren's word, had arrived at last, and not for the first, nor the last time, would they attempt to bring death to those that opposed them.

"You'd think they'd come up with something innovative by now." Marron muttered out loud to himself, cleaving aside incoming demons with strokes of his arms. He rarely talked to himself, but he found that doing so now helped take his mind off the futility and the inevitable destruction that was to come of the war that they were fighting.

"Sir…" An ashen-faced magician was standing next to him, unsure what to say. "Should we send for reinforcements?"

"Why the hell do we need reinforcements?" Marron responded icily, the blade of his sword reflecting his voice. "Balrogs and Tauros are nothing. We've killed them more times than I can count."

Without speaking, the magician pointed upwards.

Slowly, Marron lifted his eyes upwards, and what he saw shocked him.

It wasn't the fact that hundreds, perhaps over a thousand Balrogs were flying above them, darkening the sky with their wings. It wasn't the fact that the damned Devil Three had even arrived to lead the party, the devils of ice, fire, and lightning come to wreak destruction upon them as they had done some months ago.

What unnerved the Paladin more than anything was the single figure that stood poised on top of one of the Crimson Balrogs, her hair flying in the breeze as a lance lay at her side.

Marron mouthed two words silently; the magician, having read his lips, nervously stepped back a few paces. "Is…anything wrong, sir?"

The Heaven's Gate slashed through the air, felling a charging pair of Wild Kargos before its owner spoke. "Get reinforcements from Lady Lisande and Delinia Arklanser's divisions. We're gong to need a lot of power for the Omega Balrogs."

The magician had no idea what an Omega Balrog was, but if it was enough to make Aslan Seles want reinforcements, he decided it best not to ask questions. "Of- of course."

He vanished, and Marron closed his eyes and hefted his father's blade. The silvered sword gleamed excitedly with crimson, echoing its master's sentiments, and with that, he ran forward.

Nothing escaped his wrath as he tore into the files of monsters, no longer human, but rather a bloodthirsty spirit that slaughtered everything it touched. As he fought, killed for the sake of justice, the Paladin was aware of only two things.

The first was that he alone had the task of tearing apart the devils that threatened them. They had the advantage in numbers, but he would not allow them that victory. If only he divided, the others would conquer.

The second stood stoically on the back of her mount, watching the battle with her soulless eyes.

_If nothing else, Wolfen, I will deliver her to you._

----- 

"If I wanted a swim, I would have gone to Florina Beach instead." Ryden Dracon muttered as his footsteps sunk into the flooded ground around Henesys-Elaesia.

As more Fomorii came up to meet him, he swung his katana through the air in a sharp arc, soaking the ground with water. Try as they might, none of the Fomorii quite had the reflexes to strike the nimble swordsman directly. Those that managed to touch their weapons to his only had a fraction of a second before a sudden thrust or slash severed their tether to the land of the living.

He winced as the ethereal figures continued to stream over the plains, determined to take as many lives with them as they could before they departed their own. Though he hated admitting it, they were simply outnumbered. He might as well have been trying to hold back the ocean for all it was worth. The air raids led by Colonel Sinclaire had helped prevent utter disaster, but he could tell his frontlines were already exhausted. Many of the warriors were beginning to wear down, their magician allies too preoccupied to aid or buffer them. In a quarter of an hour, Ryden predicted, their line would stagger.

In another quarter, it would probably break.

He shook his head and glared down the faceless demons that were flowing towards him. Knowing they were human at one point lended an almost surreal aspect to the whole thing- as Ryden stared into their emotionless eyes for brief moments before they melted, he could not help thinking, _What…or who…are they?_

His curiosity slowly subsided into partial boredom as the beginnings of fatigue began to creep over his limbs. He had not suffered any physical wounds yet, but he could feel his cuirass chafing uncomfortably with each movement. The fact that the wet ground barely offered any traction didn't help at all.

_If only there were some way to wipe them all out at once, _he reflected bitterly. Since they were all made of water, it made sense to just run a lightning arte through the whole lot of them. The problem was that given the size of the enemy involved, whatever spell they cast would probably end up frying their own units as well. Besides, it was highly unlikely anyone could muster all the people and energy together to cast a wide-range spell of their own.

Bolts of energy lit up the sky as both ground support magicians and air support bowmen attacked en masse, firing salvos into the massive ocean that threatened to swallow them all up. Though the Fomorii seemed to have no magical attacks of their own, Ryden couldn't shake the bad feeling that rested inside his chest. He knew they weren't just fighting water.

There had to be something more.

He drove forward, phasing the terrible cries and shouts of battle out of his mind. In war, you had to remain focused, no matter what- not even if an incendiary arte goes off in front of you or the unit next to you gets his head blown off. You have to solder on, knowing that if you don't, it'll be the end of the line. Nothing mattered except the single sword that he carried, its blade rending reanimated souls to water.

Despite his own valor, Ryden could see the rest of his units had made virtually no progress. The lines seemed uneven, and indeed, in places, he could see the Fomorii concentrated, attempting to take advantage of the gaps in their armies.

_Oh, this sucks…_

Knowing he had no choice, Ryden gripped the katana so hard it almost hurt. He disliked having to show off in front of people, but if it meant their survival, so be it.

"Alastor." he whispered, no hesitation in his heart.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, in a heartbeat, Ryden could feel the hilt of the sword growing hot under his hand, as though it were alive. He could feel mana pulsing through its length like blood, sustaining it…and then there was a brilliant flash as he lost part of his consciousness.

Many soldiers, who moments ago had seen their youthful, dark-haired commanding officer rush into the midst of the demons with nothing but his sword, nearly lost their nerves seeing what looked like a silver-haired grown man several paces away, a gigantic brand of electrified steel clutched in his fists.

Despite the blade's size, Ryden found he could move faster than normal. His feet seemed to skim across the water effortlessly, ignoring the laws of tread and physics. The sword, which must have weighed near a hundred pounds otherwise, felt as light and comfortable as his original katana.

He was, at least for the moment, invincible.

The Fomorii had a moment's warning before something resembling an electrified tornado crashed into them at terminal velocity, mercilessly crushing them aside as a scythe harvesting grain. Ryden merely had to sweep his arms to level a group of demons to nothing, seeing them melt into the ground.

_Kill…Kill them all, the miserable devils…_

Thirsty for blood, he charged once more, ripping through the demons and sending them to a watery grave. They didn't even have time to dodge- just the slightest touch, or even being within close range- of the greatsword offered a charge of over 900,000 volts to the unlucky soul, simply dissipating them.

Looking over the destruction he'd wreaked, he almost laughed. _When are they going to start fighting back?_

Almost as soon as he'd asked the question in his mind, he looked up- and then saw her.

She moved as if one of them, and yet she was not. Her face, untarnished by the passage of time, seemed to gleam like the single jewel in the crown. She seemed to radiate power, almost as if she were the source of all mana on the earth.

As Ryden stared across the plains into her face, he was reminded briefly of the girl in Ellinia, but she…she was different. Though beautiful, she was definitely older- old enough to be her mother, perhaps. Her eyes were a dark lavender, lightning dancing wildly in her irises. A dagger-tipped scepter rested in her hand, as if she were the queen of the underworld herself.

He didn't need to think twice to realize that she wasn't on their side.

-----

The Devil Child of frigid ice stood at the northwest gates of Elaesia, no trace of hesitation or remorse hidden behind his bespectacled eyes. Bittersweet irony that the very people who had once scorned and alienated him now depended on him as their hope for survival.

He could laugh later.

Though Keiga Seles' skills with the spear were near godlike, Rysdale Tales' powers easily outshone those of any unit in the entire city. With simple flicks of his wrist, he brought down entire files of watery soldiers, their bodies freezing in mid-charge.

Killing was simple if you knew the right procedures.

Tales knew, perhaps more so than anyone else, that steel and arrows alone could not win the war. You could throw as many soldiers as you wanted against the enemy and hope that at least some survived, but magic- arcane artes specially tailored to the enemy's weaknesses- could spell victory for one side and doom for the other. A single spell, cast at the critical second, could topple an entire army.

The years he had spent attempting to find a cure for lycanthropy in the libraries of Ellinia had not been for naught. No longer did he need to fire bolts from his crossbow like a common soldier- by simply manipulating certain molecules in their watery bodies with his mind, he could freeze them solid and render them motionless until they were either smashed or melted. Simply put, he had transformed one of the basic principles of every ice/lightning wizard into a weapon of mass destruction.

"If this is all they've got, I might as well set up a temperature barrier and go to sleep." the sniper muttered, focusing his eyes on various groups of targets and crystallizing them in turn. None of the Fomorii even succeeded in getting close to him- as soon as his gaze fell upon one of the demons, it was instantly rendered immobile.

Those without such developed powers settled for smashing the frozen figures of their enemies with their blades. Unlike the rest of Elaesia, the level of fighting in the northwest had settled to a low ebb. The units under Tales' command could only stare at their commanding officer, casting his artes of frigid death as calmly as the Reaper himself. Those close enough to him could see, surprisingly, a manic glint from his eyes, a thin smile on his face.

Could it be possible…that he was actually _enjoying _the fight?

_Devil child, indeed. _

The sound of a hawk's cry made him raise his head for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of Natalia Arundale aiming her sleek bow at the waves of invaders below. A spark of starlike energy seemed to leap from her eyes to her fist- then in the next second, torrents of lightning exploded from her weapon and rained down upon the ground below. Both frozen and thawed Fomorii alike shattered and dissipated in the face of this onslaught, decimating their frontlines.

Tales couldn't help a knowing smile. Though she'd never shown it, Natalia was really the most bloodthirsty of them all- when she had to be.

Though freezing them wasn't quite as attractive as, say, opening a crevasse in the ground or using an artificial arte- it was the most cost-effective method he could think of. He would find himself exhausted soon unless he stuck to the most basic of artes: turning water into ice.

_Let's see Iggy or Delinia take them down this fast…_

"Blizzard Sword!" he commanded, raising his right arm to the sky. The shivering brand quickly materialized in his hand as the molecules bound themselves together and froze at his whim- in seconds, the curved sword, barely an inch wide yet four feet long, was visible in his fist. Others gaped as the sniper summoned his ultimate weapon from thin air. A sudden accompanying chill swept across the plains.

Now he was running, running as fast as his legs would take him, as he carved effortlessly through the crowd of Fomorii, easily dividing them. Those directly in his way were cut down with lightning speed; it took a single electrical pulse through his synapses to freeze the rest. He wielded the blade with shocking efficiency for a bowman; in fact, his mastery barely rivaled that of Aslan Seles'.

Divide their forces, and they would be that much easier to conquer.

Unfortunately, as he gazed upwards and saw the shimmering outline of the silent archmage in the distance, that was a fact Ceraia Raizen knew all too well.

"Who the hell is that?" he muttered aloud, driving the length of the icy blade through two Fomorii at once. As their bodies melted, he examined her as best he could. She had long blonde hair, and a gown of darkest crimson. A wand rested in her grip, the blade of a dagger protruding from its skull head.

He couldn't see her eyes- until she opened them.

"Bloody hell." he whispered, frozen for a single moment as he saw those shimmering pupils of cruel lightning- the eyes that had witnessed the slaughter of so many innocents.

Too bad she wasn't made of water as well. He had been looking forward to such a peaceful afternoon…

Slashing at the Fomorii that surrounded him, waiting for their master to arrive, Tales looked up into the sky.

_Natalia…where are you?_

_-----_

"Die!" Ark Wolfen howled as he thrust the entire length of the massive Soul Reaver into the chest of a spear-toting Fomor. The former soul let out a dreadful howl as the fiery broadsword evaporated it, steam rising towards the sky.

Sweat soaking his brow, Ark cast a frenzied glance around himself, mud drenching his legs and greaves.

_Kill them all. Fight until there is nothing left._

The few units brave enough to follow Ark through the path he'd cleared into the Fomorii barely knew whether their leader was part-demon himself. Outside of this setting, he had always been calm, collected- someone you could speak to comfortably without fear of getting rebuked.

That had all vanished since the death of his brother.

He was hell incarnate, slashing wildly at everything that dared come towards him and striking them multiple times before their bodies evaporated. If any of his own units had ventured too close, they probably would have been killed as well. The crusader was drunk upon his own rage.

_I will find her, once and for all, and send her to the hell where she belongs!_

If Ark had known that Ascion's murderer was actually on the south side of Elaesia, there was little doubt he would have turned right around and ripped a straight line through his own, Lisande, and Marron's divisions without hesitation. As it stood, however, he could do little except hold his own against the incoming forces.

"Conflagration!" he bellowed, raising the Soul Reaver and pointing it forward with all the finality he could muster. He felt white-hot heat gather in his left fist before a brilliant beam of orange-white tore through the Fomorii, evaporating them instantly. The bolt traveled for quite some distance- several hundred meters- before it collided with the ground, throwing scorched mud and waterspray in every direction.

Gasping, Ark fell backwards briefly, clutching at the newfound pain in his chest that seemed to erupt from a volcano. He had just lost a great deal of energy, and this, coupled with the heedless onslaught he'd led moments ago, seemed to have the effect of a sword thrust through his chest.

_The Twin Reavers…they're casting spells of their own accord…!_

He knew that he could not afford fatigue at this stage; if the ancient relics decided to cast another spell- regardless of how much damage it did to the enemy- it would surely cripple him. If only there were some way to control them…

Almost despairingly, he gazed at the empty ring on his finger and the pendant around his neck, the last remnants of the family he had once had.

_Mother…Ascion…where are you?_

Then, things suddenly got worse.

Much worse.

One of the Fomorii in the background stopped charging abruptly and began to raise his staff, chanting something undecipherable as runes flashed underneath him. Ark barely had time to recognize him before a sudden bolt of electricity shot forth from where he stood. The lightning seemed to zigzag along the ground, nearly missing Ark and instead killing a small group of units following behind him.

Prior to this moment, Ark had thought of the Fomorii as nothing more than shadows of the necromancers they had once been, simple fiends of water easily extinguished with a blade through the chest.

That illusion had been vanquished.

He barely had time to gather his senses before it seemed that all the water in the world was ready to swallow him, converging upon him with their cold eyes of death. Gradually, Ark felt exhaustion subside to adrenaline as he hacked and slashed any that dared come near him, but he knew he was living on borrowed time. If someone cast a spell at this moment- whether his own or an enemy's- there was little hope for him.

One thought presented itself in his mind: _We need reinforcements- now!_

Whipping around to face south, Ark realized that he'd ventured too far north. He could not hope to return to his own station and wait for reinforcements- he would have to go even farther and hope that he reached the divisions of Rysdale Tales in the distance.

_Better now than never, _he grumbled to himself, as the twin blades gleamed in his hands.

He dashed forward with the Reavers raised to the sky, praying that he would live long enough to find that which he sought most.

-----

Aslan Seles let out a fierce cry as he crushed the armor of a Tauromacis, the Heaven's Gate slashing a deep rift in the beast's dark lavender breastplates. Dark crimson fluid spurted from the wound as the monster dropped its weapon; with a dreadful howl, it fell to the ground, another casualty of war.

No one else would have dared to venture alone into the shapeless mass of monsters that railed against the south side of Elaesia, but the Paladin's speed was staggering. He moved his sword with such speed and flair that the blade seemed to fly at the speed of light- one could only catch its metallic glare before it crushed through the body of another monster with a final flourish.

Blood flecked Marron's hair, face, and armor, though none of it was his own. The legions of Lisande Isalden and Delinia Arklanser lay to his east and west, and though he prayed the magician courier he'd sent hadn't been intercepted, he still felt a rather exhilarating thrill coursing through him as he rushed ever closer to Grace Raizen. It would be utterly satisfying to get his hands on that damned Omega Balrog and chop off its dirty head once and for all.

He lunged again and again, the sword breaking through armorplate, flesh, and bone repeatedly as showers of viscous blood peppered the ground. Those foolish enough to oppose him were allowed a brief clash with his sword before their broken bodies were flung across the ground.

"Stupid drecks." he muttered out loud, blocking the incoming blade of a Taurospear with almost bored ease. In a swift slash, he delivered the edge of the sword into the beast's side at high speed, causing it to crumple unceremoniously onto the ground.

High above, Balthazar Gazhevrog noted with some disdain the lone blond-headed swordsman in the middle of a large group of Tauros that seemed to be getting smaller by the second. Even from his current altitude, the Balrog could discern the flash of a metallic blade, flecked with crimson.

Balthazar sighed and cracked his knuckles. _So predictable…_

"_Shall we attack?" _Nebuchadnezzar growled from above, his curved scimitar held aloft.

The Balrog gave the scene below a quick glance-over before shaking his head. _"Let the infantry fight for the time being. They will be much easier to kill once exhausted."_

"Quite droll, I'd say." Melchior snarled, fingering the edge of his axe.

Balthazar chose to ignore the remark. _"We've suffered losses in the past against them. I'd prefer not to repeat those failures."_

"Speaking of failures…" Grace Raizen began, her hair drifting in the wind.

Balthazar clenched his fist, his eyes narrowing.

"If you would like to take revenge against Aslan Seles…now is your chance, Gazhevrog."

For a moment, the Balrog hovered in midair as though frozen, and then, with a tacit implication towards the other airborne units to stay where they were, he unsheathed the great icy spear from his back and dived.

-----

Colonel Luke Sinclaire, Epsilon Regiment, Alpha Division, certainly didn't envy the ground fighters a couple hundred feet underneath him.

"They aren't doing too well." Reneas observed in midair as he and Sinclaire curved around to ready themselves for yet another assault. "Do you think we should go down and help?"

"We'll be able to do more damage from up here than down there." Sinclaire replied frankly. "Besides, Natalia Arundale would probably bite our heads off if we broke formation without telling her."

Reneas said nothing as he reluctantly raised his bow and aimed it at the watery fiends below.

"Dive!" the colonel roared, raising his own weapon and guiding his mount into a descent towards the ground below. On cue, a hundred units raised their bows and crossbows, ready to deliver death into the hearts of their enemies.

As the wind whipped Sinclaire's auburn hair, he selected his targets- a thick group of heavyset fiends lurking in the back rows of the enemy- and pulled back the bowstring. "Fire!"

Though Sinclaire had been aware of the possibility, he still had not fully expected retaliation- so it was an unpleasant shock when he suddenly found several lightning bolts hurtling towards them.

Swiftly, Sinclaire corkscrewed through the air, and it was all he could do to keep from dropping his bow as he gripped the feathers of his mount tightly. The lightning seared past him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, and he heard screams behind him- a sure sign that the spell had hit its mark.

Swearing, Sinclaire turned around to find what had once been his regiment now in total disarray. Though the spell had barely hit a small number of people- perhaps four or five at most- the others had been frightened into a state of complete disorder. He could see the soldiers flying around wildly, firing without any semblance of order.

"So much for holding formation, Luke." Reneas announced dismally, hovering up beside the colonel.

"Damn it!" Sinclaire roared, his face crimson with exasperation. "Epsilon Regiment, Sigma Regiment! Get back here now-"

Reneas laid a hand on his shoulder. "You might as well be collecting feathers."

"Damn it." Sinclaire muttered, burying his face in the hawk's downy neck. "I can't tell who's going to kill us next- them, or Natalia."

"You won't have to worry about the latter." Reneas muttered, pointing to the west; following his gaze, Sinclaire could see bolts of lightning arcing up towards the units of Natalia's formation; like his own troops, the bowmen were scattered wildly in every direction.

"Fuck!" Sinclaire howled in desperation, knowing there was no one else to hear. "Who gave them arcane artes all of a sudden?!"

"Never mind the arcane artes." Reneas snapped urgently, turning southwards. "Look over there."

Brushing perspiration from his forehead, the colonel obeyed, turning his gaze towards the horizon.

He was greeted with the sight of over a thousand airborne Crimson Balrogs flying towards them, their fangs and claws bared in preparation for bloodshed.

"Well, I guess this is where the huge mana mass comes in." Sinclaire grumbled, his despair giving way to a resigned, poisonous mood. 

"Any suggestions, Colonel?" Reneas asked, facing the incoming cloud stoically.

"Can't count from here, but I'd estimate they've got about nine hundred strong- round that to an even thousand. On the other hand, we have at least ninety troops. If each of us kills ten, we'll break even."

"Sounds easy enough." Reneas noted, fingering the limbs of his bow.

"The problem is that if they get close enough to cast spells, they'll easily bring down ten to twenty of us at a time." Sinclaire concluded grimly.

"Kind of makes you wish Ascion Blade was here with us, hm?" Reneas brushed hair from his eyes.

"What the _hell _is that?" Sinclaire suddenly spat, causing Reneas to turn. Both rangers could indeed see that something had detached itself from the main force of Balrogs, charging towards the ground at high velocity.

Quickly, Reneas extracted his pocket spyglass. "It looks like…a Balrog."

"Thank you for that illuminating bit of information." Sinclaire snapped.

"No, this one's different." Reneas muttered. "It's definitely bigger than the rest, and more evil-looking. Like someone pumped it full of hormones. It's wearing blue armor, and it's got a huge ice-blue spear-"

"You mean like the one that infiltrated Elaesia and blew up the damn Gamma wing some time ago?" Sinclaire finished for him, his eyes closed.

Reneas folded the spyglass away. "Damn."

-----

Seeing the gigantic Balrog flying at terminal velocity towards him was very nearly the last act of Aslan Seles' life.

There was a thunderous crash as the Balrog dived into the ground, throwing up a gigantic shockwave and hurling man and beast alike through the sky. The shock of impact threw Marron off his feet, sending him flying backwards and hitting the ground with a dull crash.

Wiping dirt caked with blood from his hair, Marron staggered to his feet and stared at the giant thing that had come crashing down from the heavens.

It was none other than the Omega Balrog that had ambushed him, Ryden, and Lisande in El Nath.

Marron cursed silently before drawing his sword and holding it aloft. _This can't be good._

The Balrog folded its wings and began to march resolutely towards him, its heavy greaves shaking the earth with heavy thuds. The monsters around it seemed aware of its presence, immediately ceasing their fighting and standing aside to let it pass, almost as though it were the king of all demons.

That wasn't too far from the truth.

The Balrog stopped about a hundred feet away from Marron, both fiercely staring into each other's eyes- sizing each other up.

"_Aslan Seles." _the Balrog spoke. His voice was laced with poison. _"The son of the Dark Knight Seles."_

That was it. Marron felt fury rising within him as he shouted, "My name is _Dariel-"_

There was a sudden lurch as the Balrog abruptly charged forward, a several hundred-pound spear-tipped missile flying towards him. Summoning all of his strength, Marron leaped into the air, his cuirass flowing with the movement, and raised the Heaven's Gate. "Holy Charge!"

Light exploded from the point where the weapons contacted, blinding both combatants. Any other sword would have snapped or shattered at such an impact, and yet Kain Marron's former blade held true. Marron felt exhaustion run through him as he strained to break the Balrog's stance- he looked up and stared into those cruel, dark eyes of hatred and malice.

"_Perish." _the Balrog growled, lance locked against brand. "_Brilliant Onslaught!"_

Marron suddenly felt an almighty force being wrenched through him, as though gravity itself was working against his guard. Unable to hold further, he dropped his guard- and Balthazar's lance smashed into him blade-first. He was thrown into the air, blood trailing from his mouth, the Heaven's Gate flying from his limp hands. He hit the ground with a cruel thud, broken shards of armor imbedded in his body.

The Balrog laughed, a cold sound that split the air. _"You will not receive any mercy from me!"  
_

Marron weakly put a hand to his chest and winced as crimson fluid spilled over his gloved hand, blood soaking the chainmail fingers. He tried to gather his mind for a healing arte, but his mind felt just like his broken body- nothing seemed to stay in.

_I can't die, not like this, not while she's still alive…_

Despite the massive pain wracking his body, he staggered first to his knees, then slowly to his feet, leaning heavily to catch his breath. His sword was nowhere to be seen, and there was little he could do without it. Not that it mattered- his insides had already suffered considerable damage from the beating he'd just taken. Without outside aid, he would probably succumb to loss of blood.

Pity that the fight had barely begun, and he was already losing…

_How does it feel to be the loser for once? _the Balrog asked, its voice echoing through his head until he was no longer aware of anything else.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the familiar gleam of metal on the ground. The bloodstained sword lay on its side some yards away, its jeweled hilt winking at him like a familiar friend.

He could not retrieve it, however. The Balrog did nothing, said nothing, only continued to smile cruelly as he knelt in his weakened state. It wanted to watch him die.

A cold fear began to grip him, spreading from his feet up to the tips of ears until it seemed his blood had crystallized in his veins. He had started the battle totally unafraid of death- but now that the Reaper had come to claim him, reality started to sink in.

He was helpless once more. Helpless as the day he had been born, vulnerable to the cruel whims of the world.

"Farewell." Balthazar whispered, poison gracing his cruel voice. He raised the lance, eyeing his target and gauging the distance. Some instinct of Marron's told him to run, to escape, but the pain in his chest prevented that possibility.

Far away in the distance, he almost thought he could see Grace Raizen's face contort into what seemed like a smirk.

As Balthazar plunged the icy lance into the ground, there was a deafening explosion.

-----

_Kill them all. Kill for revenge, and kill for survival. Kill so that they may die, so that others may live._

Ark could do no less as he lunged forward, his arms a tempest of flame and ice. He felt no remorse as he destroyed those that had once been human, his blood simmering hot with each strike.

He gazed upwards and saw what had once been the airborne units in complete disarray. Someone- Natalia- seemed to be shouting loudly, but he could not hear what she was saying. Scattered bolts of light flew down to pierce the monsters below, but they no longer had the coordination they once possessed.

_Fuck it, _he thought, brushing blood from his mouth with his left hand as he slashed with his right. The ice-plated axe cut down its foes with deadly efficiency, shining with delight as watery blood flowed over its blade.

He would never give up, no matter what. Not even if he had to face the whole damned legion of them alone. His arms and legs ached from use, but fatigue barely crossed his mind. The shock he'd received from firing off the Soul Reaver had worn off, to be replaced with the same steeled determination he'd first charged into battle with. Nothing mattered except running, running so he could survive, and then survive to fight another day.

_Slow the world, so I can run forever._

He bounded forward and leapt through the air, twisting his body through the air like a turbine, turning his arms into deadly blades of flame and ice. Even as the Fomorii foolishly jumped up to intercept him, they were quickly crushed and thrown aside in great sprays of water. As he descended towards the ground, he leveled his arms and slammed the twin blades into the soft earth. Waves of fiery energy soared up from the ground as Ark alighted on his feet, his feral instincts fueled by bloodlust alone.

"There's someone coming!" he heard someone shout in the distance. He did not know who spoke, did not even know if he was the one who was being called- but he had to keep fighting.

He heard another voice as he ran closer, different this time. It spoke with a more reserved tone, laced with a slightly wine-dry air that Ark could not help noticing. "Yes, I know. You don't need to remind me of that vixen-"

"Not _her, _sir." the other voice replied loudly, and he could hear a bit more clearly now. "There's someone approaching from the south-"

"The south?" came the blunt reply. "If Seles' lines have broken-"

"It's not an enemy, sir." As he ran, Ark could have sworn the air around him was becoming colder.

"How can you tell?" the voice snapped, the dry air becoming more pronounced now. "I don't need another Balrog in disguise blowing up the lines, thank you very much-"

"Whoever it is, he's got a big flaming sword and a huge axe, and he's killing those watery bastards off faster than I can count." the first voice replied.

"A…flaming sword?" mused the other voice- Ark supposed it had to be that of an officer; the other person must have been one of the infantry. "And an axe…" There was a brief pause, and then- "Wolfen!"

Ark raised the Twin Reavers and cut aside three clustered Fomorii in one fell swoop, and found himself face-to-face with the Devil Child Rysdale Tales.

"Ta-Tales?" Ark coughed. It had seemed so long since he'd seen the sniper in the early days of the Resistance- indeed, he had almost forgotten the man's name.

"You look a mess, Wolfen." Tales replied calmly. Ark gazed at himself and realized he was spattered with mud. He tried to say something, but his throat was much too parched to allow speech.

"Stop hanging there with your mouth open. It's rather undignified." Tales continued, his arms folded. Ark noticed the sniper carried a thin, long blade in his right hand, similar to a katana but about twice as long. It seemed made of ice.

Ark closed his mouth and ran his tongue along the insides of his throat, which felt like sandpaper. "How…you guys doing?" he finally managed to stammer, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"Perfectly fine." Tales remained unperturbed, and Ark suddenly realized why the air was so cold. There were frozen corpses of Fomorii littering the ground, icy vapor rising from their bodies. "You, on the other hand, seem anything but. What on earth would trouble you to run all the way to the northwest point of Elaesia?"

"I…" For a moment, Ark was lost. He _didn't _know why he had run- for everyone concerned, he should be stationed at his post helping to keep the watery fiends from spilling over into the south side. It seemed that he'd been running forever, wings on his feet as he slaughtered the Fomorii- and now he felt as though he'd been brought back to reality with a thud.

"It doesn't matter." Tales concluded, adjusting his glasses. "It's quite fortunate you came here, as a matter of fact. There's something I think we should be very concerned with as of now."

"Whazzat?" Ark coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Tales shook his head and drew a blue-tinted potion from his belt, which Ark gratefully accepted. As the bitter, yet refreshing draught flowed down his throat, he followed the sniper's taciturn gaze to the northern horizon.

Ceraia Raizen stood at the back of the waves of Fomorii, her hair rippling in the breeze. She seemed to be floating in midair; there was at least a yard of space separating her feet and the ground. As Ark gazed at her, he was taken aback at how much she resembled Grace…and yet, she was not truly Grace. She was older, taller- she seemed aware of the power she carried. As his gaze traveled up her body to her eyes, he could not suppress a gasp.

Even at this distance, he could still see her frightening lavender pupils, surveying the whole of Elaesia as if she had already conquered and laid waste to it in her mind's eye.

"Who is that?" he whispered, at a momentary loss for words.

The sniper's eyes did not leave the horizon. "Truthfully, Wolfen, I don't know. But one thing is for certain- she's not here to throw a party."

Ark swallowed past the lump in his throat. It seemed as though he'd forgotten how to laugh. "Does she look dangerous to you?"

Tales laughed and folded his arms across his chest. "Dangerous? She's Venus herself, sent from the heavens to destroy whatever sensibilities we may have as men. Of course she's dangerous."

Blinking, Ark wondered if Tales was really as maniacal as his name implied. "Should we…stop her?"

Tales shook his head. "Here you are, Lieutenant Colonel and all, and you're asking me questions like a bloody schoolchild. Put some sense in that head of yours, Wolfen. Does she look like someone who should be stopped?"

Ark turned to face the horizon once more. Eyes aside, Ceraia Raizen was truly beautiful…but then again, so was Grace.

His confused emotions slowly simmered back into determination. "When do you want to charge?"

The sniper gave a resigned sigh, touching a hand to his temples. "You warrior-types never cease to amaze me. Charge first, get killed, and then try to ask a question or two. I'd rather have them wear themselves out trying to get to us as opposed to going on a joyful romp through the mud- like you just did moments ago."

"We might not be here by the time she arrives." Ark pointed out, pointing the Soul Reaver at the still-formidable waves of Fomorii in the distance.

"It's a smaller risk than the one you just took." Tales said flatly, flicking his wrist. Ark felt a sudden gust of cold wind brush the back of his head and turned around; he could see a large pile of icy-solid Fomorii scattered across the muddy ground.

Ark blinked as he took in the bizarre sight of the unmoving fiends strewn about the ground. "Did you do all that while we were talking?"

"If you want to believe a freak low-pressure system swept these plains fifteen seconds ago, I won't stop you." Tales answered, his eyes half-closed in satisfaction.

Shaking his head, Ark wondered whether the legends he'd heard about the Devil Children so long ago were really true.

-----

The first thing Marron heard when the smoke cleared was breathing.

Breathing. He was still alive.

The pain was still there, though it had gone from being a searing, burning flame in his chest to feeling as though someone was pounding him with a sledgehammer with each breath. It hurt immensely, but it was bearable compared to what it had been before.

He was on his side, resting against the soft ground. Blood, oozing from his chest into the ground, was staining the mud a garish burgundy.

A tall figure stepped over his body, long hair shadowing its face.

"No wonder that Balrog just beat the living crap out of you, if you've been lying there all day."

He noticed that the voice was feminine, yet there was something undeniably tomboyish in the woman's tone. His blurred vision could not distinguish her facial features, but he could see crimson- a long sheet of it trailing her back, moving as though it were flame itself.

"You men are _so _useless these days." she grumbled, and he could feel something roughly seize his hand and pull him to his feet. He nearly felt himself being pulled apart as the wound in his chest shifted, but he was alive.

That was all that mattered to him now.

"Drink this." he heard, and he felt something roughly snake itself between his lips as wet, cool fluid rushed down his throat. Almost immediately, the pain in his chest seemed to abate, leaving behind a dull throbbing sensation. His vision cleared as well, bringing everything back into sharp focus- and he was able to look into the eyes of his savior.

They were a deep, bloody crimson.

He nearly bit his tongue out of shock and rolled out of her grip, his body hitting the wet ground with a dull squish. He looked up to see her with the empty bottle in her grip, looking as though she wanted to break it over his head. "Are you or are you not going to get up and fight, you stupid Paladin?!"

_That _riled him. Ignoring common sense, he scrambled to his feet- he realized that she was taller than him. Just barely. She definitely looked older as well. "Who are you?" he snapped, a little too brusquely.

She wasn't exactly pleased with his reaction. "I save your life, and this is the thanks I get? Maybe I should have just let your sorry behind bleed to death."

Marron grit his teeth, wondering whether to thank or curse the woman in front of him. Her face looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Sorry." he muttered quickly. "Maybe if I knew your name, it might be a little easier to thank you…"

Her steely gaze leveled off at him. "Delinia Arklanser. Leader of the southeastern division- and you are Aslan Seles, who apparently isn't as much of a legend as one would think."

He felt his blood simmer as she called him by his former name, but there was little he could do about it. After all, though he wanted to admit otherwise, she _had _saved his life. "Arklanser." he repeated thickly, realizing he did know her. They had met briefly in Athena's office- all nine of them- before this whole mess had started. "I called you and Lady Lisande for reinforcements-"

"And you should be damn glad we got here when we did." Arklanser replied, folding her arms. "I didn't fancy you taking on one of those things yourselves, but…" Her voice fell off as she settled for nothing more than a sigh.

The _things. _He suddenly remembered the Omega Balrogs. "Where are they?" he shouted, also realizing that his sword was nowhere to be seen. "And where the hell's my sword?!"

"Calm down, tiger." Arklanser muttered, seeming more bored than enthused. She seemed to know she was older than he was, and he was painfully aware of that. "Your sword's back where it should be. I took the liberty of finding it for you after you collapsed."

Marron slowly raised a hand to the back of his neck and winced sheepishly as he felt the back of his hand touch the jeweled hilt.

"Where are the Balrogs?" he repeated, but in a much less blunt tone.

In answer, Arklanser pointed mutely to the distance, and Marron was greeted with the sight of all three Omega Balrogs focused on one man, their huge weapons coming within mere feet of rending him into unrecognizable pieces. His dark hair wavered as he repeatedly dodged his enemies' attacks, occasionally pausing to fire off a bolt or four from the large bow he carried. He seemed the very image of the gnat and the lion; unable to directly overpower his enemy, yet simply too swift to be struck.

The man turned towards them, and Marron saw that he was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. "About bloody time you two got here!" he bellowed furiously, diving out of the way as the blade of a large flaming scimitar hurtled towards him. He had long, dark hair, sharp eyes, and a slight accent.

"What are you waiting for?" Arklanser snapped at Marron before she raised her bow as well. "Grand Ignis!" White light blossomed from her fists as she pointed the weapon towards the sky. In a sudden, blinding flash, she fired several missile-like bursts of flame into the sky above, the beams arcing upwards and suddenly spiraling down with increased velocity. The resulting explosions distracted the demons and allowed the exhausted Igzarion a chance to retreat.

Marron unsheathed his sword and leapt into the fray, refusing to be taken down a second time. He slashed wildly and felt the satisfying sensation of sword crushing metal, as a Balrog let out a howl of pain. Immediately, the blade of a gigantic axe hurtled towards him, but he was prepared; he neatly rolled out of the way and bellowed "Grand Cross!" His arms charged forward in a practice motion as light emanated off the Heaven's Gate. The blade made three loud cracks against his opponent's armor as blood showered onto the Paladin.

"How did you get all the way down here, anyway?" Marron shouted at Igzarion in the midst of the fighting, blocking repeated blows from the Balrog with his sword.

"I was having a fine enough time killing those water demons until Luke showed up and told me to get my ass over to the south and fend off the Balrogs." Igzarion grumbled, shooting a mutinous glance at Arklanser as though she'd had something to do with the whole situation.

Marron did not know who "Luke" was, but could hardly care less. As he dodged a severing blow from the Balrog and rolled aside, coming up between Igzarion and Arklanser, he asked the question that had been weighing on his mind from the beginning.

"What happened to the girl?"

Both Arklanser and Igzarion gave him a withering are-you-crazy look. "What girl?"

Marron struggled to explain as his eyes flew upwards, searching for the Balrog that she had been standing on. "She was there! Up there!" he gestured wildly, pointing his blade upwards.

But there was nothing, save for the howls and roars of the Crimson Balrogs as they soared through the sky.

Grace Raizen had vanished.

-----

Natalia Arundale felt dread enter her heart as she soared through the sky, firing repeatedly at the ground below that was overridden with enemies.

Above on her mount, she could see that the tide of battle had not gone well. Though Keiga Seles' forces had managed to keep the Fomorii from even getting close to the north gates, the demons had been smart enough to bivouac around the Dark Knight's forces. She could see the Fomorii streaming towards Ark Wolfen and Ryden Dracon's divisions, and unless they managed to whip up something fast, the lines were certain to break.

The problem was that Ark wasn't at his post at the west side.

She had scanned the furious melee below until her eyes ached, but there had been no sight of the dual-wielding crusader among the forces that now struggled to hold back the Fomorii, with less and less success with every passing second.

So many things seemed to be going wrong, she thought. Not only was Ark missing, but the younger Seles seemed to be faltering under the weight of the Balrogs' advance. She could see Igzarion and Delinia fighting furiously against the demons, but they seemed to be making no headway. Sheer numbers seemed to triumph over skill.

As she began her descent towards the ground, she prayed first that the airborne division could hold itself together without her, and second that Ark Wolfen was not lying somewhere in the midst of the muddied fields.

The battered warriors of Beta Division had lost all hope when their leader had disappeared into the midst of the Fomorii without a second thought. All they could do now was hold their positions and pray that there were not much more of the enemy.

Then they saw Natalia.

As she rushed downwards in a torrent of lightning, she raised her bow, her eyes leveled fiercely on her targets even as the ground rushed closer and closer.

"_Skyscorcher!!"_

Her cry pierced the air, as did the unimaginable number of lightning bolts that seemed to fall like rain from the sky above. The blasts struck with unerring accuracy, leaving smoking craters where Fomorii had once stood. Meanwhile, the units that Ark had left behind could only gaze, bewildered, at the sudden arrival of the rangeress.

_Damned if I know where Ark's gone…but I'm going to find out._

Without pausing, she sheathed her bow and drew Gungnir, its crystal blade reflecting lightning as she drove it forward into the midst of the monsters about her. The legendary lance seemed to have no reservation about whom it slaughtered as entire lines of Fomorii disintegrated in the face of its advances. The searing blade needed only to touch one of the demons before an electrical charge of over 900,000 volts ran through its body, dissipating it and everything that happened to be in contact with it.

She flung herself into the fray with a zeal and level of skill that might well have matched that of Keiga Seles, as lightning blazed at her feet with each thrust. No longer was she the quiet child who stood by as her friends were hurt- she was determined to revenge herself upon the hordes that threatened her home.__

Determined to find Ark, she charged forward with cold determination in her veins, Gungnir cutting deadly swathes through its enemies as they disintegrated into nothing. With each sweep of the lance felling up to ten of the demons at a time, she effortlessly drove through the midst of the horde with more ease than the crusader himself had done.

He had to be close somewhere. She knew he would not fall that easily.

_Ark? _she pleaded in her mind, sending her thoughts to him even as she dueled for her life.

There was no reply; just an empty silence broken only by white noise.

She nearly screamed in frustration as she charged forward, beheading a nearby Fomor in one clean stroke, the fiend's blade dropping from its master's hand and melting into water. If only she knew where he was…!

"Lightning Saber!" she roared, jabbing her wrist upwards. Above her, the air crackled as sparks of electricity fused themselves into a long, curved blade of pure energy. Without warning, the shimmering sword descended into the mist of the Fomorii and detonated itself, lightning searing the air. Instinct grabbing her, Natalia rushed forward through the path she'd cleared, hoping to find some signs of life.

Amazingly, she thought she could see the glowing blade of a crimson sword before the gap closed once more, flooded by bloodthirsty Fomorii eager to rend her to pieces.

"Riving Gale!" she cried, raising the spear in front of her. Gungnir's blade glowed with energy before it erupted into a stream of hardened wind, particles compacted into a substance harder than diamond. The blades tore through the Fomorii easily, toppling them like toy soldiers as water soaked the ground.

Rushing forward, Natalia Arundale arrived just in time to see Ark Wolfen and Rysdale Tales, their respective blades raised as they charged forward. Gazing upwards, she saw the target of their assault mere yards away.

Ceraia Raizen seemed not the least disturbed as both Ark and Tales dashed towards her, intending to cut her down. Without even blinking, she raised a hand as they neared her- and a sudden barrier of golden light seemed to surround her, protecting her. Both Ark and Tales made contact with the barrier, their weapons straining against the shield of golden light as though they meant to break it.

Then there was a loud explosion as the golden shield suddenly detonated, turning from a layer of protection into a deadly weapon in the frame of a second. Natalia nearly screamed as Ark and Tales were thrown backwards by the force of the attack, crashing backwards into the ground with a violent thud.

"Foolish." the archmage hissed, malice in her eyes as she descended upon the two, who were staggering to their feet. "Do you honestly believe you can defeat me? You are nothing compared to my power. I might as well be dealing with children." Her eyes wandered over the Twin Reavers in Ark's grip, and Natalia saw her eyes flash for a moment before she returned her placid, yet deadly gaze.

"And now," she whispered, raising her wand for the coup de grace, "it is time for you to die." Light suddenly blossomed from the end of the wand, and Natalia saw with horror that the wand had transformed itself into a sword, its blade composed of pure energy. Within seconds, it would cut them in half.

As she felt her half-demonic blood boiling in her veins, she raised Gungnir and commanded, "Heavenly Siege!" She charged forward and met Ceraia head-on, the blade of the spear deadlocked against the necromancer's shimmering blade.

Ceraia's eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second before her features abruptly broke into a smile. "So, it is you." she whispered, softly enough for only Arundale to hear. "The sister of the Falchion three."

Natalia felt her blood abruptly go cold. _She knows…who I am!_

"It is a pity I can't kill you myself," Ceraia went on, "but I am sure Lord Isentryx would love to see you."

"Tell him he can go see her over my cold, dead body." Tales snarled, his blade unsheathed and leveled at Ceraia.

"And mine as well." Ark growled, the Twin Reavers raised as well.

"Well, this is certainly interesting." Ceraia whispered, a manic smile lighting up her features. "So, you wish to stand against me. In that case, I shall make sure you two die slowly and painfully. And as for you, my dear," she went on, turning to Natalia, "I shall deliver you to Lord Isentryx myself."

"Never." Arundale snarled coldly, her human soul disappearing as she felt Razier's hot blood flow through her veins.

In the next moment, five blades of sword, axe, and spear alike were raised, ready to duel until the end of time itself.

-----

The phoenix flew through the scorched sky, leaving an iridescent trail of flames in the sky with each beat of its wings.

Atop its back, Zeraion Phoenix stood, ready to fulfill his destiny no matter the price.

He knew he would probably have to pay with his life- as Darius Ryuuzaki and Valter Stalrigarde had already done. But he also knew that it would be worth it if it meant he could stop the innocent lives of this world from being destroyed from the scourge known as Razier.

Even as the Crimson Balrogs flew towards him, ready to intercept him, he made no move as he continued to stare across the sky, where he knew his destiny waited.

It was now or never. Do or die.

"Lightning Saber!" Zeraion commanded, raising a palm towards the demons that flew towards him. The arte quickly fused the mana above him into brilliant shafts of lightning, which coalesced into blades of cobalt-blue energy. With conviction, Zeraion aimed the swords at the Balrogs that stood in his way. The demons managed to remain in the air for another second before Zeraion's arte struck them down- howling in pain, they fell to the scorched ground below.

The sky seemed to grow darker as they flew, dark shades of orange quickly fading into a blood red. Far off in the distance, Zeraion's eyes narrowed.

Razier, the great Prince of Darkness, lay just a bare mile ahead of him. The garish demon had assumed the shape of a _Necrofalchion- _a dragon borne of pure darkness, able to be summoned by only the strongest and most dedicated of necromancers. Now, of course, the necromancers were destroyed, their souls transformed into the sea demons known as the Fomorii. What had become of their master, Ceraia Raizen, was unknown, but it was assumed that she was dead, killed by Razier himself.

Zeraion could only hope that was true.

He scanned the ground below, gauging the enemy forces. Razier was flanked by an advance guard of Necrofalchionnumbering eight in total. Zeraion breathed and readied himself. He had slain countless numbers of the dragons in the past, but they were still not creatures to be trifled with lightly.

The woman behind him could sense what she was thinking; swiftly, she wrapped her arms around him, as if she wished she could keep him by her side forever. "Rindelasca, please," she whispered, her voice betraying her emotions. "Don't…"

Zeraion's reply was soft, yet firm. "I have to, Linnares."

The Necrofalchion spotted him first; letting out bloodcurdling roars, they opened their jaws wide and sent gigantic cannon-bursts of dark flame at the ranger, intending to burn him to the ground. His eyes narrowing, Zeraion clutched the phoenix tighter and corkscrewed through the air, the bolts of flame barely missing him. Dark smoke hung through the air as he cut through the sky, aiming towards his targets.

"I'm going to need your help, my love." Zeraion whispered to her, and she seemed to acquiesce; she closed her eyes, lay her hand on his shoulder, and began whispering an incantation for an arcane arte- one so fierce, that when cast, would have obliterated an army. Light blossomed from her palm as her fingers tightened around his shoulder, never to let go.

_  
_With a determined air, Zeraion raised the Dark Arund to his shoulder, breathed once, and fired.

"Arte of Divinity: Apocalypse."

The bow seemed to explode in his hands, radiating light and heat with the intensity of a star as a brilliant, blinding aura enveloped the two in its wake. Struggling to control the ferocity of the legendary spell, Zeraion aimed the Dark Arund at Razier, shooting a brilliant pulse of pure light at the creatures below. The spell struck one of the Necrofalchion directly in the chest; it let out a terrible shriek, loud enough to bring down the heavens, as the light exploded through its body, consuming it. Within seconds, it was no more.

Razier let out a roar and spread its wings, its cry thirsting for blood. In answer, the remaining seven Necrofalchion spread their wings and lifted into the air, vengeance burning in their eyes as they soared towards their targets. The dragons were huge, dwarfing the phoenix that Zeraion himself rode on- and yet he could not falter.

His entire world was at stake.

The woman's fingers tightened around Zeraion's shoulder, and he glanced back at her. Her eyes glanced up questioningly into his, almost as if to ask, _Should we?_

Zeraion's reply was equally silent, yet concise. _Yes._

She pursed her hands together and began to chant, light flowing from her hands with each word she uttered. The light was almost tangible as it spread forth, surrounding Zeraion in a circle of runes and glyphs. Breathing heavily, Zeraion raised his bow. He could not falter, not with Darius and Valter gone forever. It all depended on him now.

The dragons opened their mouths to greet him with more bursts of dark fire, and he could feel the heat of the blasts searing his skin even from several hundred yards away. Desperately, the woman cast a shield around them, pure white light emanating from her hands to create a barrier. The flames smashed into the arcane bastion, licking fiercely at it, but the woman's magic held true. Zeraion emerged from the flames unharmed.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his bow raised once more as he turned around to face the gigantic beasts. He realized how small they were compared to the giant dragons, all of whom could easily swallow them both in a single gulp- literally.

She nodded her head, tears streaking her closed eyelids. "Yes, Rindelasca."

Zeraion raised his bow, energy beginning to gather at its fore. "Let us dance with the stars in the sky above." he whispered, reciting the line of her favorite poem. Slowly, the runes around them began to spread until they were surrounded in a gigantic cage of glyphs, shining bright against the bloodied sky.

"Arte of Divinity: Judgment."

The runes began to glow ever brighter, nearly blinding Zeraion; yet he kept his firm grip on the bow even as it grew hot in his hands. Brilliant rifts of light appeared in the sky above, as if opening the gates of heaven; before the dragons could react, a torrential rain of light bolts exploded from the sky.

The bolts of brilliant light streamed forth without abandon, piercing the sky until they seemed an entire column of light, flooding the sky with brilliance. The dragons roared furiously and dived, attempting to evade the assault- but nothing could escape the indomitable shower of light that erupted from the sky, so great was its magnitude. Thousands of bolts pierced cleanly through the dragons, obliterating them to nothing, bits of darkness disintegrating in the blinding radiance.

As the light faded and the heavens closed, Zeraion could focus only on one thing; the death of Razier that he knew would come, no matter the price he had to pay. Untold tens of thousands had already paid with their lives to stop Razier, Darius and Valter among them.

Though every fiber of his being wished otherwise, he knew he would be no different.

Zeraion guided the phoenix to the ground and gently stroked its neck; it vanished in a bright flash of flame. Now he was facing Razier, the legendary Prince of Arcruxia; the king of darkness itself.

_The last divine arte must be cast…and the great prince shall fall._

Razier opened its mouth as if to speak, but no words came- instead, a brilliant burst of darkness erupted from its jaws, a darkness that split apart into thousands of individual bolts ready to pierce Zeraion where he stood.

The woman, however, was ready; as Zeraion charged forward, heedless of the danger, she closed her eyes and chanted a spell. The bolts struck Zeraion dead-center, and yet they failed to damage him. He raised his hand and summoned the familiar spear of lightning, its shaft glistening in his palm as he ran closer and closer.

Razier raised its gigantic claw as if to strike him, but he was too fast- even as the dragon's swordlike talons ripped the air where his head had been, he dived aside and plunged the head of his lance into the demon's left heel.

The dragon raised its head and let out an immense bellow of pain, malice in its eyes. _You shall not defeat me…child! _Its voice, harsh and grating, resounded through Zeraion's head with the fury of a storm, causing him to falter.

However, it was only for a second. Zeraion summoned a second spear from the air and slashed furiously at the dragon's heels, diving out of the way whenever it attempted to crush him. He knew that his own welfare mattered little- all that mattered was that the Judgment had to be fulfilled. The last arte must be cast, and that was the work of the last Divine Child- the scion of Lisandea.

Angrily, the dragon raised its claw and slashed the ground furiously, narrowly missing Zeraion and creating a deep gash in the ground. He struck again, determined to end it- and then suddenly, he felt something smash into him with the force of a missile, knocking him to the ground, the spear flying from his hand.

He was pinned under Razier's right claw.

The dragon's talons began to approach his chest, the point of the razor-sharp claw prodding into his armor. It seemed to be relishing the moment, knowing that it would be able to grant him a painful death as he was slowly ripped apart.

He heard the woman scream in horror as the dragon's claw pierced his armor, breaking the skin underneath. Zeraion felt pain shoot up his body, but that mattered little. He was screaming- _Don't worry about me! Cast the arte!- _but no sound came out. His death was insignificant- but she had to succeed. She was the one.

In the next few seconds, the woman made up her mind.

She screamed something undecipherable, and Zeraion watched in horror as a glyph began to form under her body. Unlike the glyphs used to cast the last Divine Arte, this one was a dark red, the color of blood. It spread all around her and onto her body, covering her figure in a lattice of crimson.

The dragon's eyes widened, and Zeraion felt the beast lift its claw off his chest in surprise. Desperation clawed at his mind as he gazed at her, enthralled in the depths of the deadly spell she was about to cast. Her beautiful eyes met his, steeled with deadly determination, yet tinged with sorrow and regret.

_NO!_

At the very same moment he screamed and stretched his arm towards her, she cast the soul transmutation.

Red light began to explode from her body, gathering in an orb as the life force was drained from her. The energy began to coalesce in a giant orb as the dragon roared and rushed forward, determined to kill her before she completed the spell. Not that it mattered- she would die anyway.

There was a brilliant flash of blood-red light, a dreadful howl that shook the heavens, and Zeraion knew she was gone.

Tears flowed from his eyes as he rushed up to her, seized the hand that would never touch his again, stared into the face that he could never see.

No matter what, he had to complete the arte. It was the world's only hope.

With regret and sorrow welling up in his heart, Zeraion crossed his hands over his chest and closed his eyes, beginning to chant. White light blossomed under his feet, forming intricate runes that seemed to spiral upwards into a column of light. Razier reared back, fury in its eyes- and as it struck, he screamed the words she had meant to say, light blinding his vision.

"_Arte of Divinity: Wrath of God!"_

-----

Zeraion Phoenix jerked awake, his heart thumping furiously as perspiration soaked his forehead and the pillow underneath.

Breathing hard and putting a hand to his chest, he gazed nervously at Rathias Gardner, but the bowmaster was soundly asleep. Zeraion had no way of knowing what inhabited his teacher's dreams- but he was certain it could never be as vivid as this one.

He breathed carefully, forcing air back into his lungs. The Abyssal Arund lay in his quiver on the floor- he gave it a dark look as his pulse gradually returned to normal. It must have been a memory of Athos, he thought, as his tired brain struggled to find an explanation for everything that had happened.

But if those had indeed been the memories of the legendary Divine Child- did that mean that everything he'd just seen was real, that it had all happened?

He closed his eyes and put a hand to his sweat-soaked temples, trying to think. The sky had been red, he knew. He was riding a bird of some sort- probably a phoenix.

Bits and pieces of the dream gradually came to him as he waded through the murky haze of his thoughts. There had been dragons, he remembered; great, ferocious, black dragons, each the size of twenty Crimson Balrogs, that threatened to devour all in their path.

And there had been a woman, the woman that had cast the soul transmutation and perished for his sake. By saving him, she had forsaken the world.

Zeraion's heart skipped a few beats as he looked at the Abyssal Arund once more, recalling something that Athos had once said to him when they'd first met.

_Please, Zeraion…for the sake of the world, do not make the same mistakes I did._

He thought briefly back to the woman, trying to think if he'd ever seen her before in her life, but his memories deserted him. He could not remember what she looked like for the world; it had all happened so quickly, right up to the last moment.

As sleep took him in its soft embrace once more, he remembered one thing about her- her eyes. They were brilliant, seeming to come back at him through the darkness; they were the one thing he remembered vividly, now that he thought about it.

They were a dark shade of lavender purple, lightning blazing in their pupils.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_5 chapters left._

_For those of you pissed off at the cliffhanger, I should probably let you know that this chapter was slated to end differently. The problem was that I underestimated how many pages it would take to describe the things I wanted to say, and as a result things have been pushed back a bit. It's sort of fortunate, though, in a way, because if things had gone as planned, you'd probably be reading this chapter in May._

_Also, for those of you with too much time on your hands, there's an easter egg of sorts hidden in this chapter. Perhaps some of you have already found it. Those who find it will be rewarded with an important plot spoiler. I won't say where or what it is, because that would make things too easy. Just a little something for you to do while you wait for the next chapter. _

_Until next time, folks._

_-Kal Ancalas_


	25. Consanguine

* * *

**Chapter 22**

_Edit: Because of technical difficulties (read: the doc manager is a piece of incompetent crap), some of the text may be bunched together in places, particularly in places with quotation marks and punctuation. I spent over an hour correcting this; my parents were not pleased, as you might expect. If this happens, try to ignore it as best you can; I'll go over it when I have the time. Tyvm._

Author's Note: Well, we've come a long way. Only four more chapters left until the grand finale. (Maybe three, but more on that later.) Thanks for all your support- I noticed that most of you only reviewed after I posted my deadline on PPF.

(By the way, if you'd like to talk to me personally but don't want to bother with the unreliability of PM's, sign up on PPF and visit my thread: Revolt of the Archers, General Discussion and FAQ. I check that thread almost every day in search of replies, so feel free to post whatever tickles your fancy- you can almost expect a personal sarcasm-laced response within 12 hours.)

There isn't really much more I can say about this chapter, except that you guys really deserve it. As I've said, we've come a long way, with 488 reviews at time of posting (and if you want to get the 500th review, you can, but I will make sure I honor each individual review of this chapter equally in the next chapter, so don't consider it that big of a deal. I'll be pretty pissed if no one reviews simply because they wanted to be the 500th reviewer and not the 489th). Thanks for all your support; let's just hope we finish this in one piece.

You'll notice that this chapter is the first chapter in a while that isn't longer than the one preceding it (50 pages). It would have been longer, but I had a deadline to meet, so I trimmed off a couple of parts. For those of you pissed at me because of this, look at the bright side: I won't have writer's block for the next chapter, and you'll be able to finish reading a chapter for once without dying of old age.

Plenty of plot twists and goodies in this chapter as usual, so make bloody sure you review.

Enjoy.

* * *

As soon as morning had broken, Zeraion threw the bedsheets off of himself and quickly changed his clothes before stomping out into the fresh air.

He wasn't going to get much more sleep, he knew.

_Zeraion._

"Yes?" Zeraion said, out loud, before he realized he was supposed to be furious at Athos for completely ruining his night and cutting off his sleep.

_I am...sorry._

Zeraion was quiet for some time before he replied, "Don't be. You've already suffered enough. Besides, you did what you had to."

Asthathos Rindelasca lapsed into silence as well until he spoke.

_You've grown, dragon child._

On a different day, Zeraion would have attached more credence to the compliment. As it was in his current state of mind, he barely paid attention. "So Gardner tells me." he muttered, a sort of dry air creeping into his tone. He wondered if he himself was starting to act more like the bowmaster the longer he stayed with him.

"Let's run." Zeraion cracked his knuckles and turned his gaze to the mystic waterfall; its roar no longer bothered him. His greaves slid effortlessly along the moist grass; before long, he had lost track of his lap count and was running simply for the exhilaration.

_This is surprising, to say the least. _Athos' tone crept into the back of the ranger's mind. _Rathias Gardner would be hard-pressed to wrangle half this many laps out of you on a good day._

"Hell with that!" Zeraion laughed, sliding to a stop in front of the waterfall. He raised his hand and found a surprising amount of sweat beaded across his forehead, though there was no fatigue. More than that, he felt...so alive, so vibrant somehow.

Without the restraint of discipline and order about him, he could fly free.

"Silver Hawk!" Zeraion commanded quickly. The bird materialized almost instantly, pecking the ground with its beak as it gazed at its master with sharp eyes. Without even pausing to think about what in the world he was doing, Zeraion mounted the bird and firmly flattened his body against its back. "Go."

The hawk did not wait for further directions. It immediately spread its sleek wings and shot upwards, Zeraion's hair trailing behind him wildly in the wind. Gazing down, Zeraion found the waterfall a fountain, the trees mere toothpicks of green.

The world was so beautiful...and yet so vulnerable.

He wondered how he had never noticed it this way before.

_Zeraion, may I ask you something?_

"Go ahead."

_When you woke up this morning, did you have the misfortune to impact your head against the floor?_

Zeraion's features hardened briefly. "Shut up."

He circled the hawk through the air- once, twice, three times, until it became a blur in his mind and he no longer required sequential order to contain his excitement. Dives that would have scared him bloodless now became routine maneuvers; death-defying air screws were now almost second-nature. A kind of euphoric sensation filled his veins, enjoying the bursts of wind that raked across his face as he hit the updrafts.

Nearly an hour later, Zeraion finally became aware of something other than the sky or the ground; his stomach was savagely empty.

"Damn." Zeraion mumbled, as his stomach (and Athos) sent signals to his brain that it was a good idea to stop while he still had the means to do so. Almost reluctantly, he nudged the hawk and sent it into a gentle downwards spiral. As he descended, the trees, waterfall, and other landscape returned to their original sizes.

He landed on the ground with a soft thump and leaped off the hawk's back in one fluid maneuver; his legs buckled as he hit the ground. Shaking surprisingly sweaty hair from his face, Zeraion raised his head.

Rathias Gardner was gazing at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

This wasn't the first time Gardner had ever given his student an enigmatic look, but it was certainly the first time his eyes had shown any...Zeraion struggled to find a word- warmth? Emotion, even? There was something different- he knew that.

He only knew, as with all other aspects of the bowmaster, he didn't know exactly what.

"So, you've been having a good time." Gardner spoke in his usual tone.

Zeraion tried to speak and found his mouth dry; breathing in the wind for over an hour had completely dried his throat. He had to swallow a few times before he could manage a reply. "I guess."

Gardner shook his head, a few locks of amber hair drifting past his waist. "You never cease to amaze me, Zeraion." he murmured, closing his eyes as he gently massaged his forehead with the fingers of his left hand.

Not knowing what else to say, Zeraion said the first thing that came to his mind. "Should I practice more?"

The bowmaster looked upwards. "If you want to, you can by all means...although I certainly won't stop you if you want to take a rest."

Zeraion faced forward and looked his teacher directly in the eyes.

"Screw that." he muttered, as he turned away.

Behind him, Rathias Gardner smiled wistfully, almost sadly.

_...That kid's finally growing up._

* * *

"Sacred Arrow."

Gabriel Tauren unflinchingly fired a series of holy arrows into the midst of the Fomorii that threatened to surround him. Each beam of light, pure as the sun, shined brightly as it ran each enemy through.

The graduate of the Ellinian Magic Academy had never backed down from a challenge yet, no matter how daunting. His skill at managing to conjure up answers to even the most difficult questions had already earned him a fearless reputation among the other students- a reputation that had gone unchallenged until Ascion Blade had entered his class.

Of all times, he wasn't about to show weakness now.

Gabriel wiped ebony hair from his forehead and coldly stared forward. "Magic Guard." he commanded, as a slightly cold wave of protective mana washed over him.

"Colonel Tauren." A sallow-faced wizard burst from thin air and stoically faced the priest, raising a hand in familiar salute.

"Enough." Gabriel snapped bluntly; the man lowered his hand. "To hell with all this military crap- I'm sick of it. Did you get reconnaissance on the south gates?"

"Yes." The man was visibly older than Gabriel, although the two stood at the same height. "Aslan Seles, Delinia Arklanser, and Traphes Igzarion are holding their position against the Balrogs."

"Good. I wouldn't expect any less." Gabriel's stare leveled off; slowly, he rubbed the palms of his hands together. "This is going to be exciting."

The other magician disappeared as Gabriel resumed his casting, flinging bolts of light through the sky and across the ground. Not an enemy survived his onslaught as he cast repeatedly, firing off a salvo of brilliant white arrows.

Briefly, the sable-haired magician thought of his former classmate and colleague- and the short, fleeting kiss they had shared in a cold, empty conference room.

Colonel Gabriel Tauren knew he could never live up to Ascion Blade's legacy- not for the world, not until the end of time itself.

But, for the sake of the world, and for those whom he cared for, he knew he had to try.

* * *

"There but for the grace of the Goddess go we." Reneas Aries whispered stoically, a sapphire bow snarled in the fingers of his right hand.

"I'm not in the mood for that, Colonel Aries." Luke Sinclaire replied sharply, his own weapon raised to the darkening sky. "Be on your guard."

Reneas relaxed his grip on the bow. "Since when have we been on military terms?"

Sinclaire did not break his gaze. "Since this whole fucking mess started."

"Well, I can't really argue with that, Colonel Sinclaire." Reneas conceded, somewhat wryly. Behind them, what remained of Elaesia's airborne forces readied their weapons in a similar fashion.

Focusing his battle-trained eyes on the horizon, Luke Sinclaire was able to look at the face of death itself- gnarled, twisted with inhuman malice, riding upon wings of darkness into the bloody sky above.

"Scared?" he found himself saying.

"You wish." Reneas coolly examined his fingertips, slightly pale from the cold.

Turning to face the chaotic sky, Sinclaire had to clear his throat to speak. "Alpha Division, Airborne Forces!" he commanded loudly, his voice piercing the icy drafts.

Though the disorganized troops didn't actually fly closer to him, those that heard him stopped in midair- and Sinclaire knew he had to speak quickly.

"I'm not Natalia Arundale, and I won't pretend to be." There was a general snicker across the crowd, but Sinclaire ignored it. They could laugh later if they survived.

"We may not be able to kill all of them," he continued, the wind whipping his hair, "but they sure as hell aren't going to kill all of us. I want you all to forget about order, ranks, all that crap we've been standing in since this all started- we are people, men and women fighting for our lives against these damned Balrogs.

"We're all scared of death- I'm not going to lie to you. I'm scared at the thought of not being able to wake up tomorrow, scared at the thought of crashing into a ten-ton flaming meteor. But you all know that if we don't do our duty, that'll happen to us all anyway- to the entire town, to the world. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to let that happen while I've still got blood in myself."

The units exchanged brief glances; Sinclaire, though occasionally crude and sharp, had never quite been this...well, suffice it to say that he had never really gone out of his way to give pep talks. Perhaps a few inappropriate jokes that sometimes got a few laughs, but nothing more.

This was different.

"There's about a hundred of us, and a thousand of them." Sinclaire went on, ignoring the wind chill that bit at his neck. "I think you all know enough math to realize that those aren't good odds- but we're not Balrogs; we are Alpha Division, Airborne Forces, and we will defend the skies of Elaesia, or die trying!"

A general cheer arose in the air at the conclusion of his speech, though the cold wind drowned it out soon after. Raking a hand across his forehead, Sinclaire was surprised to find cold sweat.

"That was the biggest load of crap I've ever heard." Reneas smiled ruefully, shaking his head.

"Good enough for you, then?" Sinclaire replied tritely.

"Perfectly." Reneas reached up and lowered the visor of his helmet, concealing the upper half of his face.

"Colonel Aries- oh, screw it, Reneas. I need you to do me a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Fly to the west, if you can, and salvage what remains of Natalia Arundale's forces. They might not be pleased to see you, but we'll need all the power we can get. Ten to one odds aren't exactly in our favor, you know."

"Sure." Reneas nodded, lowering himself against the back of his hawk. "Oh, and by the way, Luke..."

"Yes?"

"Is there anything you need sent to the ground?" Though Reneas' voice was soft, his expression was completely serious.

Colonel Luke Sinclaire gazed into his friend's knowing face, then towards the south gate of Elaesia.

"No, thanks."

Without another word, Reneas' mount spread its wings and gave a great shriek as it soared westward.

* * *

Zeraion stared forward into the waterfall and spun the length of the Thunder Spear across his wrist.

With semi-practiced motions- fluid, yet somewhat uncertain- Zeraion spun the bladed shaft across and around his body, curving and spinning his wrists as the solid beam of lightning flashed around him. The blade came dangerously close to his body on more than one occasion as he maneuvered, yet he continued on.

Unblinkingly, Zeraion stabbed forward. There was a flash of lightning, almost dulcet in the ranger's eyes, as electricity lit up the spray of the waterfall. Sparks of energy and drops of water fell about Zeraion in a cascade of dangerous beauty as he drew back.

Zeraion slashed upwards before bringing the blade down with the force of his wrist, piercing the surface of the water. A brilliant surge illuminated the pool as lightning spiraled up in a brief waterspout from the point of impact. Clouds of wet mist enveloped Zeraion as he raised the lance once more. He aimed the blade upwards and closed his eyes, and a torrent of white energy shot upwards at a sharp angle from the tip of the spear. The beam of white lightning sluiced up through the sky before blasting deep into the top of the waterfall. Large chunks of smoking rubble crashed down into the tide pool, showering Zeraion with even more water.

Zeraion opened his eyes and wrung water from his uncut hair, letting it trail the base of his shoulders.

"Glad that's over."

Behind him, though he didn't know it, Rathias Gardner was watching, half in pride and half in surprise.

That was unique in itself, for Gardner (as far as he himself was concerned, anyway) hadn't felt surprise in some time. The feeling was almost alien- like a cold hand snaking its way down the back of his neck- but it gave way to a mixed sensation of warm pride and uncertainty about the future.

_He's improved. Though there's really no way to know for sure unless..._

Quietly, Gardner raised his wrist upwards and aimed two fingers at his student. "Inferno." Sparks quickly drew themselves from thin air and melded around his wrist into a sphere of orange flame. Carefully aiming the ball of heat with his fingers, Gardner chose his target and fired.

Zeraion was aware of something to his left- something warm, hot, an energy source of some kind- before he twisted himself out of the way. The thin jet of flame missed him by more than a foot; as it passed, it left a warmth around his midriff.

Breathing heavily, Zeraion forced himself to remain calm. _What in the Goddess' name was that? _He got his answer when he felt more sensations of heat traveling towards him, once more to the left.

Several different scenarios whirled through Zeraion's mind: jump, defensive arte, counterattack, fly, before he chose one without thinking: he dropped to his knees, face forward onto the stone, and felt a jet of flame narrowly miss passing through his skull above.

Behind the tree he'd been standing behind, Rathias Gardner emerged. "Very nice reflexes, Zeraion."

As the heat faded from the back of his neck, Zeraion wondered when exactly Gardner had taken to calling him "Zeraion" as opposed to "Phoenix".

"You could have killed me." Zeraion snapped sullenly, staggering to his feet. There were smears of blood on the stone below and he realized he'd scraped his knees.

Gardner laughed, regarding his student with an amused air. "Of course not. At worst, the bolts would have given you an exceedingly unpleasant blister- but no collateral damage, I'm afraid. I wasn't prepared to completely risk you listening to everything I told you."

"Mana flow, right?" Zeraion cut in, putting a hand to his forehead. "If I'd known, I could have defended myself earlier."

Gardner's knowing eyes twinkled. "Don't think I sit on that stone and meditate for my own personal amusement, Phoenix."

_Again with the Phoenix, Rathias? _Zeraion found himself thinking.

"I suppose it goes without saying that you've improved." Gardner said, assuming a more stately expression as he folded his arms. "It would be somewhat counter-productive of me to march up and tell you you've accomplished nothing even after these months."

"Well, thanks." Zeraion said, surprised at his own defiant tone.

"To break the monotony of our vacation of sorts," Gardner continued, "I'd like to make you an offer."

Zeraion stared somewhat suspiciously at the bowmaster. "What kind of offer?"

"You remember that some time ago, I fired an arrow randomly into the forest." Gardner said placidly. "That will serve its purpose now."

Zeraion felt his insides grow slightly cold as he nodded questioningly.

"Your task, which I suppose you may have figured out by now, is to retrieve said arrow." Gardner replied calmly. "You have a time limit of 24 hours. During that time, you may explore the island as you choose. I have not planted any clues in the forest that you should be aware of- so you will have to conduct a systematic search of the land. Although I cannot guarantee the exact location of the arrow at this moment, I can tell you it is not in a location so dangerous that you cannot reach it." His eyes seemed to sparkle, and Zeraion winced. He rarely heard good news whenever Gardner's cobalt gaze winked at him.

"What do I get if I find it?" Zeraion asked, privately wondering what could possibly motivate him to go on this virtual suicide mission. Goddess knew what lay in wait on the island- though he never had much trouble with the lizard-beasts and overgrown insects in the forest, he had never explored exceedingly far into its depths. For all he knew, there could be a full-grown family of dragons guarding the arrow.

"If you find the arrow, then I will judge you competent in our training excursion, and we can return to civilization." Gardner said, without distinction.

_Finally! _Zeraion had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming out loud in joy. Screw staying on this island and doing nothing except meditating and killing giant lizards! He could finally go back, and see Ark and Ascion once more...

"Are we going back permanently?" he asked tentatively, trying to keep his voice as free of emotion as possible.

"In the event that you do find the arrow, we will have to revisit the island once to retrieve an important item or two," Gardner said, "but for the most part, you may leave it behind forever if you wish afterwards."

This time, Zeraion couldn't help a small smile, and Gardner rolled his eyes. "You seem enthralled at the prospect of leaving, Phoenix." The bowmaster brushed a hand through his hair. "Do you really wish to leave so soon?" He spoke in a mock tone that jabbed at Zeraion's insides.

"I..." Zeraion struggled for a reply before he gave up. "When do I start?"

"Any time you want." Gardner said calmly. "You may even leave now, if you wish."

"Great." Zeraion said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "How will I know when 24 hours is up?"

"Watch the sun." Gardner replied calmly.

"Well, then..." Zeraion looked into Gardner's eyes, feeling as though he should say something more. However, nothing came except "See you later."

Gardner returned his student's gaze with a smile. "Good luck...Zeraion."

Slowly, Gardner extended his hand towards the ranger.

Tentatively, Zeraion stared at the bowmaster's palm before stretching out his own hand without hesitation. Firmly, the boy's fingers encircled about the man's, before they shook. Eyes of sky-blue turquoise gazed searchingly, almost questioningly, into orbs of icy cobalt.

Turning away from Gardner without another word, Zeraion brushed blonde hair from his eyes and walked forward, letting the forest swallow him up.

The bowmaster watched Zeraion's retreating shadow as silently as it had left, until he was staring at nothing except pristine green forest. Soft wind blew against him as the sounds of nature enveloped him, leaving him lost in thought.

Rathias Gardner had lied to his student; he had not fired the arrow randomly. He knew exactly where the arrow was; in the deadliest vector of the Island of Ascension- its center, where Bera's greatest threat lay, second only to the mighty Zakum.

He knew it because Athena had accompanied him to the island several years ago and had given him the exact same test- a test which he had almost failed.

Almost wistfully, Rathias Gardner looked up into the sky. He had already lost the three things he held most dear; his sister, his child, and his best student. He knew he could never live with himself if Zeraion Phoenix's blood coated his hands.

For what seemed like the first time in years, the bowmaster felt regret.

* * *

Ark Wolfen had long since believed that Grace Raizen was the penultimate evil. Fearless, cold, without a soul, she seemed to radiate the essence of darkness itself. What had once been human had now been transformed into an emotionless weapon. She knew nothing except death. She was death.

But as he fought Ceraia Raizen, he had to admit that he had been wrong. Grace was a mere child against the archmagistress that had once threatened to destroy the world.

He struck forward again, again, and again, trying to break her guard; all to no avail. Regardless of where the Twin Reavers seemed to be in midair, Ceraia seemed to have a guard against his advances. The fact that she could hold off a spear, two swords, and an axe with nothing more than her magical prowess was a testament to her abilities.

Indeed, she seemed the very image of Hero, Paladin, Dark Knight, and Archmage compressed into a single being. Her wand, nothing more than a small length of obsidian, brimstone, and onyx, could transform itself from a shimmering sword into a dual-bladed spear into a wide-ridged axe in a matter of split seconds. She wielded her weapons as expertly as her opponents could, causing them to defend more often than they attacked her.

The two Devil Children alongside him, Rysdale Tales and Natalia Arundale, fought with a zeal that reflected their names and legends more than stories ever could. Armed with a blade nearly as tall as he was, Tales attacked with a series of icy slashes and stabs that would easily have minced any other foe. As if to add to the overkill, Natalia moved Gungnir with a flair that rivaled that of Keiga Seles himself. Bursts of volatile fire, lightning, and ice crashed through the air like water as the three fighters attempted to strike her down.

They could do nothing.

Ceraia raised her wand- tipped with a three-foot-blade of pure white energy- and brought it downwards, the tip piercing the ground below. Instantly, tendrils of water sprung from the crack in the earth and lunged for Ark, Tales, and Natalia- only to freeze into solid ice as they struck the ground at their feet.

_Trying to beat me at my own game, huh? _Tales sidestepped the arte and crushed the tendrils with the five-foot icy blade. _Handle this! _Raising the sword, he slashed the air and thrust his right wrist forward. Foot-long spikes of frozen ice ripped themselves from thin air and flung themselves at Ceraia; though she blocked them easily, the resulting opening almost allowed Ark to strike her- almost.

Stepping back, Ark breathed heavily as the Twin Reavers reverberated in his grip. _We need to work together if we want to get a shot at beating her. _He drew his arm back and lunged in a crescent strike, but the attempt earned him nothing more than a hard burst of recoil as he struck an invisible barrier.

As though reading his mind, Tales closed his eyes and mentally sent a brief message to Ark: _Natalia and I will try to strike her down with arcane artes. You distract her._

_Be careful, _Natalia's voice added.

_Can you warn me when you do that?! It feels like someone's pouring ice water down my back!_

Tales' response was wry. _You'd better get used to it, Wolfen; otherwise you're going to get something a lot worse than ice water from her. _

"Damn you." Ark muttered out loud, seizing a moment to brush jet-black hair from his eyes. He knew they were right, though. None of them could beat her at hand-to-hand combat; this was their only hope.

He knew that by being the bait, he risked certain death. Yet, as he thought of Ascion, what little fear remained slowly simmered into hard-on resolve.

It was time.

He charged forward and brought the Blood Reaver over his head, aiming directly for the back of Ceraia's head. Even as his blow struck the invisible barrier he knew was there, he felt several bolts of alternatively white-hot and ice-cold energy streak over his head, impacting against another barrier.

His resolve stiffened, Ark drew back the blades and lunged fiercely, raking the Twin Reavers forward in a crosswise slash. Though Ceraia blocked the blow, the attack was so severe that it created a visible rift in the air in front of her. Lightning flashed angrily in her eyes before she counterattacked with her sword, forcing Ark back a few steps.

Her eyes met his, cold pearls of fury against lavender orbs of malice.

"_Foolish child." _she whispered as she drew back her arm to strike.

"Blizzard!" Tales howled from the background, his crossbow raised; a series of ice floes were quickly crushing upwards from the ground like paper, hurtling towards the necromantress with the force of a freight train. Angrily, Ceraia raised her free hand to block the incoming assault, shards of ice flying through the air.That was Natalia's cue.

"Skyscorcher!" she bellowed, aiming her bow dead-center towards Ceraia. Her eyes widened once before the onslaught of lightning collided into her barrier, throwing wild bursts of energy through the air. Ark staggered backwards from the recoil as Ceraia lowered her guard. She had been visibly shaken by the attack, but unhurt.

"Angel Pyre!" Ark commanded, crossing the Twin Reavers as Ceraia was about to retaliate. Quickly, she raised a barrier that was able to block the force of the attack; though Ark's arte did no damage, it allowed the Devil Children an opportunity to execute their next move- which they did.

A simultaneous cry of "Golden Eagle!" and "Silver Hawk!" split the air as both Ark and Ceraia stole upward glances; both Tales and Arundale were now circling the sky overhead, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Raising his weapons once more, Ark lunged forward and charged towards Ceraia with an uppercut. Spinning her wand in hand, which had sprouted into a bladed staff six feet long from both ends, she parried his blow and thrust forward, forcing him to sidestep the blow. Gritting his teeth, Ark stood his ground and aimed careful slashes at his adversary, first with one arm and then the other. Ceraia blocked his advances one after the other, but his blows came at such a fast rate that she could not lead an offensive against him.

As the crusader and archmage dueled on the ground below, Tales had long since sheathed his blade in favor of a more comfortable weapon. Raising the steel barrel of the crossbow, he lay low against the back of the eagle and stared down the iron scope.

_It's been a while._

Next to him, Natalia fired off two consecutive strafes of eight arrows, the shafts striking the ground near Ceraia's feet. This was a decoy intended to draw her attention- and as soon as Ceraia had finished lowering her guard from blocking Natalia's attack, Tales aimed the crossbow and sighted his target. "Mortal Blow."

As the sniper pulled the trigger, Ceraia had a warning of a fraction of a second before something with the force of a sledgehammer collided into her back. Though the bolt hadn't actually managed to pierce her- it had stopped short a few feet from her body- it had come very close to breaking her ward. Tales had aimed his shot carefully.

_Good job, Tales, _Ark thought briefly, before he stepped forward and drove his left wrist through the air. The Soul Reaver glowed a volcanic crimson as it ruptured the air with bursts of flame; closing his eyes briefly, Ark waited for impact.

A split second later, he felt an immense shock run through his wrist. Opening his eyes, he saw that the tip of the blade had stopped short of Ceraia's face, suspended in air by magic. The sword's flames reflected off her face, making her appearance even more eerie.

"_I..." _

She suddenly clenched her fist, glowing with energy, and punched it through the air. At the same moment, a sudden blast of pure force radiated from her figure, colliding with Ark at point-blank range. The crusader felt himself being struck by what seemed a herd of raging bulls as he skidded along the ground.

"_I won't..."_

Staggering to his feet, Ark barely had time to register Ceraia forcing the shimmering blade of her wand into the earth. At once, a brilliant line of energy ripped through the ground, creating a shining rift that threw great chunks of earth into the air- and it was heading towards Ark at sonic speed.

Acting on pure instinct, Ark threw his weight forward and slammed the Blood Reaver's icy head into the ground. In response, the earth ripped itself open and gave way to a gigantic wall of ice twenty feet high, shimmering in the bloody sunset. Ceraia's arte collided with the ice and completely crushed it, yet when the dust cleared, Ark stood unharmed.

"_I will not fall to you...__**Darius Ryuuzaki!**__**"**_

Ceraia drew her arm back and slashed the air with her wand as she screamed; and at that moment a burst of golden light sped from the end of the sword and smashed into Ark directly, throwing him into the air. The crusader's body spun limply through the air before it hit the ground with a thud.

"Shit." Tales muttered from above as he silently loaded another bolt into his crossbow. _Natalia, this isn't good._

_Tell me something I don't know. _It took a moment for the sniper to register Natalia's slightly acidic voice as a rare bit of sarcasm. _He's still alive, though, I can feel a pulse._

_Reassuring. _Tales licked his lips- dry from the altitude- and aimed the crossbow downwards. Without hesitation, he fired off several bolts into the ground, expertly pinpointing the cardinal points of a circle around his prey. Stars floating through his brain, Ark got to his feet in time to see what looked like an entire shroud of ice shoot upwards from the ground and surround Ceraia in a great dome of crystal. Tales had ignited the bolts in the ground, using an arcane arte to grow them into the shape of a large geodesic cell.

_Your turn, Natalia._

Guiding her hawk into a slow descent, Arundale sheathed her bow and summoned Gungnir once more. The lance of the gods shimmered with dark lightning as she hefted its crystal shaft in the flat of her palm.

"Down." she whispered, and her hawk obeyed. With a loud screech, it spread its wings and began a rapid dive downward. Despite the wind rushing about her, Arundale stood up- pure confidence and adrenaline keeping her upright- and raised the spear in her hand. The ground grew ever closer by the second, yet she remained calm. She raised her eyes and saw the dome Tales had created, Ceraia briefly imprisoned within.

As she neared the ground, Natalia Arundale stepped forward and hurled the lance of Yggdrasill at the dome.

Propelled by sheer force of magic, the heavy spear carved through the air, leaving a brief trail of lightning in its wake. Natalia's throw had propelled it towards the exact epicenter of the dome; energy rippled through the air as it approached its target.

As Gungnir pierced the ice, there was a blinding explosion, forcing all three to shield their eyes as light flooded the area. The ground beneath was completely obliterated, small stones and dirt vaporizing instantly while larger chunks of earth were torn away like paper. A large plume of thick dust and dirt rose into the air, completely obscuring all view of the scene.

With bated breaths, Ark, Tales, and Natalia eyed the dust cloud, their weapons raised.

Slowly but surely, the dust cloud began to dissipate, a gentle wind blowing across the plain.

What they saw was a gigantic crater a few hundred feet wide and several yards deep, smoke billowing from its depths. There was no sign of Ceraia Raizen anywhere.

Natalia took a deep breath as she lowered her bow. _I think we've done it._

Suddenly, a howling roar burst across the landscape- an inhuman roar which no living creature on earth could match with its ferocity. Chills swept up the three fighters' spines as it reached their ears. It was a terrible cry, from the very depths of hell itself.

It was the cry of a tortured soul.

_I...shall...never...return...to death!_

Those were the last words Natalia heard before a great jet of white lightning erupted from the crater and soared up towards her; she barely had time to register that something was heading towards her before it collided directly with her hawk, causing it to disappear in a loud shriek.

The lightning then passed through its body and burst out towards her; it seared a deep, ferocious burn across her left thigh, narrowly missing her heart.

As she began to lose consciousness from the vicious, burning pain that was erupting through her body, Natalia Arundale fell towards the ground.

* * *

The hurried sound of footsteps echoed through the forest as Zeraion Phoenix ran through its depths.

Panting and brushing perspiration from his forehead, Zeraion pressed his palm against the nearest tree and muttered "Inferno." under his breath. Particles of mana fused in the air as he traced a glowing cross on the bark with his fingers, leaving a distinctive mark as the embers burnt out.

"There." Zeraion panted, lying against a nearby stone to catch his breath. Sweat beaded from his hair and dripped onto the mossy ground below, quickly absorbed by the thirsty ground.

Taking a brief drink from a blue-filled bottle that he'd brought along for the trip, Zeraion got to his feet and drew a summoning stone from the pouch he usually carried.

"Doppelganger." Light flashed at his palm for a brief second before particles of mana began to coalesce in front of him, quickly assuming the shape of humanoid figures. In minutes, he had assembled seven shadowy copies of himself, each adorned in similar sapphire-blue mail with a spectral bow slung under their arms.

He had almost laughed when using the technique- he had not used it for nearly a year and it was an ironic twist to be using it now, of all occasions. He had remembered something about Athena telling him about his new abilities as a master of fusion artes and Final Attack- and this was one of the offshoots.

Zeraion had devised a plan for himself; after he had left Gardner at the waterfall and retreated some distance into the forest, he had summoned seven doppelgangers of himself and had sent them off in opposite directions; he himself had gone north. After traveling about fifty paces or so, he marked the nearest tree with a large, noticeable cross before continuing onwards in a similar fashion. Every couple hundred of steps, he then created seven more copies, as before, and sent them off as well. Eventually, he reasoned, one of them would be fortunate enough to find the arrow.

The genius of Zeraion's plan (or so he thought himself) was that he could cover an immense amount of ground in a short time, given that he had no way of knowing exactly how big the island was. He had briefly considered flying around with Silver Hawk; through that means, he could have covered the entire island with about two-thirds of his time to spare- but there was no way of looking closely enough at the ground to find the arrow. It would have been a waste of time.

To keep his mana reserves from being completely exhausted, Zeraion had come up with a solution; minimize the functions of the copies as much as possible while still allowing them to do their job. While creating the doppelgangers, he 'programmed' a simple string of orders into each one; simply walk along ground for fifty paces or so. If no arrow was found, mark the nearest tree with a cross and continue onwards. If the arrow was found, he instructed them to retrieve the arrow and light a bonfire at that location; he could then find it within minutes. In the event that anyone happened upon a cross previously marked by someone else, they would then change direction and search a new area.

Turning the doppelgangers into little more than walking drones had been a rare stroke of intelligence in the ranger. Instead of creating fully functional clones of himself (an option that would have drained his mana within minutes) they served as mere sentinels, eyes designed to see about them. If one of the copies happened to run into a monster or some other hazard- well, too bad for that one, but it was certainly more efficient than having seven mana-consuming versions of himself running about.

Zeraion counted off fifty more steps before marking another tree with a cross and walking onwards. The more he thought about his plan, the more it seemed something was likely to go wrong- but it was all he had to work with at the moment, and he was fairly proud of himself. It definitely beat running like hell for 24 hours.

He stopped, feeling the cool sensation of wind along his face. Though he realized he had wanted to leave the island for a long time, he knew he would still miss the tranquility the island allowed him. It would certainly be a shock to return from here to civilization; the civilization he knew was currently being consumed by war.

_Damn it, _he thought, before continuing onwards. There really wasn't any win-win situation for him. He had accepted his destiny ever since he had asked Athena about Final Attack. Now it was his responsibility to live with the consequences.

Zeraion paused for a moment to rest again, then cast Doppelganger. The replicas he'd created hurried through the underbrush to do their assigned task, and Zeraion watched them go before he resumed his own pace. Every now and then he would gaze upwards to look for a sign of smoke, though he knew he wouldn't see any. It was much too early in the game to find anything.

About thirty paces or so later, he realized the acrid smell of ash, and looked around. Then he saw a still-smoldering cross marked on a nearby tree, indicating that someone had already searched this area.

For a moment, Zeraion was dumbfounded. He had not reached the coastline of the island yet, and the replicas had been sent in different directions- how could a cross be here? Then it occurred to him that he might not have been walking in as straight a line as he'd imagined.

Color rising to his face, Zeraion cast Silver Hawk and gauged his position. He had no way of knowing exactly which direction was north, but he knew he was northeast of the waterfall, and he had left the clearing from the northwest direction.

_That _wasn't good.

He landed and thought about his next course of action, which was finally to ignore it; even if he had gotten a little off-course, that wouldn't influence the end result. The chances were high that he himself wouldn't find the arrow anyway.

Making an approximate ninety-degree angle to the left, Zeraion resumed counting his steps and headed forward.

The fifty steps passed with no sign of any arrow whatsoever, and Zeraion was forced to bite back a sigh as he marked another tree. Honestly- one arrow, in this entire island? The entire quest sounded stupider with each passing minute, and he wondered if this entire thing had been a ploy by Gardner to get him to do something instead of complain.

As Zeraion's hand left the tree, he suddenly felt the earth under his feet shake.

"Oh, sh-"

Zeraion barely had time to dash aside before the ground ripped itself up under its feet, throwing dust and dirt through the air. Coughing from the cloud, Zeraion gazed upwards and saw the object of his unrest. A gigantic forest wurm had made its presence known, its head rearing over the trees as it scrutinized the diminutive human underneath it.

Two things made itself known in the primitive beast's mind: one, it was hungry, and two, the fleshling beneath it certainly counted as food.

The wurm opened its gaping maws wide before it dived at Zeraion, and the ranger barely had time to summon a doppelganger as bait before it crashed through the ground again.

Leaning against a tree to steady himself, Zeraion realized that the wurm was still underneath him, and it could appear any-

The ground began to shake once more.

"Thrust!" Zeraion commanded, focusing mana into his heels as he dove to the side. The wurm erupted from the ground in a geyser of dirt, but it had missed its target by a good several yards. By now, Zeraion had the Abyssal Arund strung and poised at his shoulder.

Briefly, he considered flying upwards with Silver Hawk where it couldn't reach him, but he discounted that idea. If he was no longer on the ground, the wurm would see no reason to come out, and it would only continue to attack him when he landed. He would have to deal with it using himself as the lure.

"Arrow Bomb!" Zeraion roared, shooting a succession of explosive shafts straight into the air. The explosives sailed upwards briefly before coming back down and planting themselves into the ground, but they did not detonate. Zeraion held the fuses as he waited for the wurm to resurface.

He did not have to wait long. Earth trembled at his feet once more, signaling its arrival.

Casting Thrust and getting himself to safety, Zeraion released the charges on the explosive arrows as the wurm burst out of the ground. The resulting blast shook the trees and blew dust into Zeraion's face; he heard a roar of pain. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes, he saw the wurm still towering above him. Apparently, the thing had fairly thick skin, strong enough to withstand the force of the blast- and he had conveniently pissed it off.

Swearing under his breath, Zeraion shuffled himself to the side. He would have to keep it guessing on his movements if he wanted to avoid getting eaten. The wurm kept its grotesque eyes riveted on him-

-and then suddenly he was behind it.

The wurm gave a roar and spun around; only to find that in place of the lone fleshling, there were now three, all with the same blonde hair, clothing, and an expression that distinctly said 'go to hell'. Confused, it reared back its head- but only for a moment.

Diving forward, it flung itself across the ground and swallowed a large amount of earth, as well as all three of the fleshlings in one deep gulp.

Behind it, out of sight, the real Zeraion Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief as the wurm went for his decoys. It apparently hadn't noticed the undetonated explosive arrow in the rear doppelganger's fist.

As the ground began to shake underneath, Zeraion snapped his fingers and detonated the explosive arrow inside the wurm's stomach.

There was a loud boom that shook the ground under Zeraion's feet, and a massive, bloodcurdling roar that nearly deafened the ranger. Moments later, the wurm erupted from the ground, throwing chunks of earth around wildly as it thrashed about. Smoke billowed from its mouth as it continued to roar in pain and fury; Zeraion guessed the bomb had done considerable damage to its internal organs.

Feeling somewhat sorry for the thing that had tried to eat him moments ago, Zeraion decided to end its suffering. Slowly, he raised the Abyssal Arund and fired a lone Arrow Blow through the air, then leveled the weapon as golden-orange light glowed at his fists.

"Final Attack."

There was a blinding explosion as the burst of golden energy spiraled from the Abyssal Arund and struck the wurm directly in the underbelly. It gave one last roar before the explosion consumed it, reducing much of it to ashes instantly. A smoking crater lay beneath it where the arte had struck.

Briefly, Zeraion bowed his head towards the ground. "That was a good fight." he admitted out loud, before he sheathed the bow. He only wished defeating Gault could be this easy.

Almost randomly, Zeraion suddenly became aware of a presence near him; it seemed to radiate a mysterious energy of some sort. He raised his head, half-expecting, half-hoping to see Grace...

Sure enough, there was a human figure silhouetted in the far reach of the forest. It had long hair, but Zeraion could easily tell, even from this distance, that it was not Grace. The figure's hair was dark, as well as much of its clothing. A quiver lay across its back, the head of a bow peeking from it.

As Zeraion strained his eyes to get a sharper look, he saw a ray of sunlight reflect off the head of the bow, and he nearly bit his tongue in shock.

It was the image of a Dragon Shinebow.

_No, _Zeraion thought, as his mind immediately lurched into a series of possibilities and denials, each louder than the next. _It can't be, it can't be, it just can't be! There's no way...it's not possible...how is he...?!_

Zeraion finally realized he was staring directly at Gault Isentryx.

Fury quickly boiled into his veins as he forgot everything, save for a pool of liquid hate that bubbled in his heart, replacing his blood with white-hot anger.

"**I'll **_**kill **_**you, Gault!" **Zeraion howled as he raised the bow, energy gathering at its limbs as he prepared to unleash every single particle of energy in his body towards his foe. He would kill now, or be killed. There was no other option.

But as Gault slowly turned his head towards Zeraion, the latter suddenly felt a brilliant burst of pain explode through his left thigh. Bursts of light flooded his vision, blinding him as he collapsed to the ground and clutched his leg in agony. It was as though a bolt of lightning had struck him directly, searing the flesh underneath his armor.

Staggering to his knees, Zeraion's eyes frantically searched the horizon for any sign of Gault...

...but he was no longer there.

* * *

Gault Isentryx watched the first battle of Elaesia through blood-red eyes.

The bowmaster was seated upon a raven, its dark feathers contrasting against the setting sun in the horizon. He was dressed almost entirely in black, armor plates covering his chest and lower torso as dark mail sleeves covered his arms. A silver chain hung across his chest from his right shoulder to the left side of his waist. The Shinebow Eternal Sonata lay clutched in his grip.

Dark fire burned in his pupils as he wordlessly watched the battle, an area of several square miles encompassed in his eyes. He saw streams of water flood across the plains, threatening to devour all in their path. He saw a crowd of warriors, magicians, thieves fighting an even larger crowd of Balrogs, Taurospears, and other monsters, trying above all else to prevent the beasts from reaching the city lines.

He saw the Dark Knight Keiga Seles at the northern front, cleaving aside the Fomorii at such a rate that the water seemed to pause only at his division alone. He saw Ark Wolfen, Zeraion's brother, fiercely dueling Ceraia Raizen in hand-to-hand combat, as the Devil Children Rysdale Tales and Natalia Arundale circled above. He saw Ryden, the son of Dracon, dueling desperately against a charging stream of Fomorii on the east side of Elaesia, and Lisande Isalden, the elven princess, doing the same to the west. He saw Aslan Seles, son of Keiga, and the other two Devil Children Traphes Igzarion and Delinia Arklanser holding off against the Devil Three.

The conflict could tip either way at any moment, Gault knew, with a critical nudge.

He could provide that nudge- or, rather, the woman at his side could.

Grace Raizen looked at the battle with as much interest as Gault allowed her. "They do fight, don't they?"

Gault stroked Sempiterna Sonatis once, running a finger along its golden wings. "Quite."

Even as hundreds below him lay dead on the battlefield, Gault allowed his thoughts to wander. The fighting would be over soon. He could very well swoop down now and lay waste to the entire city...but there would be no fun in it. There would be no challenge, no resistance.

They would fall slowly, painfully, one by one, until there was nothing left.

_There is no fate for traitors except death._

Worthless, indeed. The bowmen would receive their debts owed after all these years- decades, even centuries of the archers pushed aside by others. Warriors, with their brute strength; magicians, with their blunt intelligence; and thieves, with their blistering speed. There seemed no niche for archers in the world that Gault once knew. They were the control variables in a world that seemed created to oppose them.

_You're worthless, Isentryx. Worthless because you can't crush stones with a single swipe of a blade. You can't bring down hordes of beasts with a single thought of your mind. You can't move unseen into the night, slaughtering all until there is nothing left._

_You can only pretend that everything will be all right. Pretend that it'll be temporary, that someday you'll learn a powerful skill to beat them all and that'll be that. But you know it's a lie, that everything is a lie. For every technique, every arte you control, they have three more._

_Your time has come. There is no other choice...except that of the final attack._

"Speak softly, peace be in thy heart." Gault whispered, his voice quiet upon air before the wind carried it away.

"You talk of peace when those you once knew are slaughtered like pigs below." Grace retorted.

Surprisingly, Gault said nothing for some time.

Finally, he closed his eyes and said, "Peace is only a viable option when the parties involved have exhausted all other options. There has been no treaty, no agreement signed that states a warrior, magician, or thief cannot bluntly intrude into another's territory in return for reciprocation of the same. I myself would have signed such an act- if one had existed."

Tentatively, Grace stole a glance at Gault, but when she looked, his eyes were the same shade of bloody crimson they had always been.

"With this war, Bera shall sign such an act- but its pen shall be a sword, its ink the blood of thousands."

There was no reply, and Gault looked once more at the sky. The sun had nearly set.

_Zeraion, you talked once of peace. You refused to join me, because you did not wish to spill the blood of innocents._

_I respected that, and I still do. But when the sum of the parts is taken as a whole, there are no longer innocent and guilty parties. There is only a miasma, a hydra of corruption and evil- and it can only be laid to rest by destroying it as a whole. Even if its head, its arms, its legs are severed, it shall still regrow. Only by slaying its heart can we eradicate it forever from the earth._

_You think of me as evil, and perhaps I deserve it. For each guilty soul my actions claim, there shall also be another who has done no wrong. But if left alone, the strong shall destroy the weak, inevitably. There is no alternative; that is how history has been written since the beginning of time. The angel of death, though its wings be bone and its halo blood, is still an angel._

_I should know this, perhaps, more than any other, because I have slain those who would be innocents in your eyes. Raizen, perhaps- she was no fiend, but she was weak. She was unable to accept the responsibility that I gave her with power, and she deserved the mantle of death. But your brother, Zeraion...your beloved Ascion Blade. She slew him, under my orders, and he had committed no sin. _

_This is what war ultimately does, Zeraion. It slaughters those which do not deserve judgment and glorifies those who unthinkingly, heartlessly pass it upon others._

_Perhaps, someday, you and the world will understand._

Gault opened his eyes. The sounds of battle still raged below. He could feel the gigantic mass of mana as it blasted, burnt, froze, rent apart, and completely obliterated the people which he beheld.

Casting a scry, he closed his eyes and thought of Zeraion Phoenix.

_The boy is in the midst of the forest. He is walking across the paths, apparently with some purpose in mind. Every few minutes he will pause, mark a tree with some sort of symbol, then continue. He is searching for something._

_He stops...another mark. There is no doubt now, he is in search of something, perhaps an item he has lost previously...but what?_

_He stops. Another cross. He then raises his hand, no doubt to cast an arte...he is creating copies of himself. Doppelgangers. They march off in different directions...he is quite determined in his search. What is this which he desires?_

Gault closed his eyes and relaxed himself, letting himself deeply into the scene. He breathed in slowly, calmly, until he was no longer upon Victoria Island, but rather upon the smaller, much more distant Isle of Ascension. The scent of flowers enveloped him, the canopy of emerald leaves overhead shielding the sun from his figure.

The ground underneath Gault's greaves shook violently.

"A groundwurm." Gault said, out loud. Yes, that was it. Giant wurms frequently resided in the deeper parts of the forest. Most were herbivores, but some feasted on flesh- most notably small animals, reptiles, and insects. Anything that happened to be within range of its mouth, pretty much.

"Arrow Bomb!"

Gault spun around and faced west, from where he knew the sound had came. There was no question about it- despite countless months since their last encounter, he still recognized Zeraion Phoenix's voice.

Carefully, shielding himself behind a grove of trees, Gault watched as Zeraion detonated the bombs he had planted in the ground, as the wurm surfaced. The wurm gave a dreadful howl; Gault supposed Zeraion had managed to injure it. It charged towards Zeraion and missed; quickly, Zeraion darted behind it and created three replicas of himself, diving behind a nearby tree to watch.

As expected, the wurm gobbled up the replicas and dove back underground- allowing Zeraion to detonate the last bomb he had allowed one replica to carry. There was a thunderous roar as the attack had its effect; the wurm surfaced in time for Zeraion to end its life once and for all with Final Attack.

Not knowing whether he was surprised, amused, impressed, or all three, Gault watched as Zeraion turned his gaze towards the general direction where he was standing.

Suddenly, Zeraion raised his bow to his shoulders, and Gault turned around momentarily; was there a monster behind him, or-

"_I'll kill you, Gault!"_

Isentryx turned about just in time to see energy gathering at Zeraion's bow, aimed directly at him. _It's not possible! How did he see-_

But before he could answer his own question, he suddenly felt a gigantic burst of pain explode inside his left thigh. As he struggled to maintain consciousness, the scry faded away, and Gault found himself on Victoria Island clutching at his leg, swearing under his breath, while Grace watched bemusedly.

"Is something wrong?" Grace asked quietly.

Slowly, Gault released his grip on his leg and shook his head. "No."

He raised his eyes just in time to see Natalia Arundale falling through the sky.

* * *

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

Rysdale Tales found himself screaming inside his own mind as the blast of lightning struck Natalia's hawk dead-center, obliterating it and causing her body to plummet downwards to the ground. Even if the blast itself hadn't injured her, she was certain not to survive the impact with the ground.

Instinctively, he soared forward, even though he knew she would hit the ground in three...two...one...

Then, suddenly, she disappeared.

Blinking confusedly, Tales hurriedly cleaned his glasses and put them back on, wondering if he had missed something; but Natalia was nowhere to be seen, not in the sky or on the ground. Worriedly, he soared downwards- if something else had happened to her-?

The sniper suddenly heard a cry of exultation and a loud shout of "Goddamnit, Ryden, I didn't think you were ever going to show the hell up!"

Tales strained his eyes and saw the tall, silver-haired figure of Ryden Dracon cradling Natalia's intact body in his arms.

"How in the hell did you catch her?" Ark half-screamed, half-laughed, out of relief. Tales didn't blame him- he felt like doing the same.

"I saw her falling...and then I caught her." Ryden replied, as if it were perfectly normal for people to fall from the sky. "How difficult is that to understand for you?"

"Well, damn, I'm just glad you could run that fast!" Ark wiped perspiration from his face, which was starting to regain its color.

"Glad to help." Ryden said, somewhat wryly, as he laid Arundale on the ground. "...Oh, no."

"What are you talking about?" Ark blinked, his smile quickly fading to a perplexed frown. "What the hell do you mean, oh, no?!"

"That's not good." Ryden pointed, and Tales' eyes widened as he beheld the large streak on Arundale's lower thigh. The blast of energy had completely melted away the armor below and left a garish burn on her leg. The sniper forced himself to stay calm as he saw her wound- red, pink, purple, and black- and clenched his fist. She would pay for that.

Tales shifted his attention to the smoking crater as Ark and Ryden knelt over the Devil Child below. "Know any healing artes?"

"Not unless you feel like dragging Dariel all the way over here." Ryden replied bluntly. "As it is, I have a few potions, but I'm not sure how well they'll work."

"Better than nothing." Ark grunted as he tore open a standard-issue first-aid kit and unrolled a wad of gauze bandage. "At the very least, it'll prevent infection, and she isn't bleeding a lot."

Ryden uncorked the bottle of a purple-colored solution and doused the rangeress' wound with it, while Ark tore off strips of bandage with his teeth and dressed the burn. In seconds, the two swordsmen had jury-rigged a quick medical operation, though a foul burnt scent lingered.

"Is she regaining consciousness?" Ryden asked after a moment of terse silence.

"I...don't think so." Ark admitted, touching his fingers to Arundale's neck. There was a soft pulse, but little else. "Maybe we should give her mouth-to-mouth resuscita-"

"Like hell you will, Casanova." Ryden muttered, opening a second potion bottle and wafting the chemical scent towards her nose.

After what seemed an eternity, Natalia's eyes fluttered open.

"Good, you're alive." Slowly, Ark and Ryden each took ahold of her arms and pulled her to her feet. "Can you stand?"

"Yes." she moaned, wincing slightly as she put a hand to her wound.

"Great." Ryden smiled in apparent relief. "I wasn't looking forward to digging a funeral plot for you any time soon."

"Where..." Natalia muttered, her eyes glassy. She seemed to be looking for something. "Where is she?"

"Who's she-" Ryden began to say, but he got his answer sooner and more abruptly than he would have liked.

A sudden burst of light tore through the general area, temporarily blinding all three at the same moment that a dreadful howl ripped through the air- and at that moment, their vision cleared enough to see that Ceraia, though momentarily winded by the tandem attack, had not been stopped in the least. Her wand- glowing brightly with furious energy- was raised aloft in her grip, on the verge of casting an arte.

"Shit." Ryden muttered, half shocked and impressed against his will.

Before anyone could react, Tales swept the barrel of his ice-tinted crossbow upwards and stared down the scope. With icy vapor seeping from the weapon, he pulled the trigger.

The resulting barrage of ice that burst forth from the ground was impressive, but it failed to damage Ceraia. She simply blocked the attack, as she had done so many times before, with a sideways flick of her wrist.

"Damn- Ryden, cover her!" Ark snapped, and without waiting for an answer, he thundered forward, the Twin Reavers in his sweaty grip. Arundale was in no condition to fight, but he hoped he could distract her enough for the sniper to score a critical hit upon her.

"Hell if you're leaving me out of this, Wolfen!" Ryden shouted back in response even as Ark and Tales fired off consecutive artes against Ceraia, attempting to pierce her shield. Light and ice spiraled brilliantly through the air as they cast. However, the archmagistress was much too fast for them.

Calmly, with the air of a poised serpent, Ceraia flicked her wand. Ark saw her mouth move briefly as she mouthed the name of an arte- then dived to the side as an icy fissure suddenly erupted underneath his feet. A cerulean lava-like substance erupted from the rift in the earth, yet instead of scorching, it froze the ground it touched.

As the icy substance rushed towards him, Ryden raised his sword over his head and slashed a deep rift into the ground with it. Red fire leapt up from the cut in the earth and dashed forward to meet the ice, a loud hiss emanating through the air as they made contact.

"Can you fly?" Ryden muttered out of the side of his mouth to Arundale, still upon her knees in pain.

"Yes." The Devil Child brushed sandy hair from her eyes. "I can't guarantee I'll be able to dodge, though."

"Fair enough." Ryden growled, keeping the massive sword aloft. "You need to go, now. I can't guarantee your safety, even with all three of us here- we can't underestimate her at this point."

"And where exactly am I supposed to go, might I ask?" Natalia asked, a hint of acid in her tone.

"If I'm not mistaken, there's an east side of Elaesia that needs defending in my absence." Ryden replied in kind, carefully gauging Ark and Tales' movements.

Arundale flicked her wrist as a storm-gray hawk burst from the dark air, clawing the ground excitedly. As Ryden gazed at it, he thought it reflected its master's mood- dark, foreboding, and dangerous. With some small amount of effort, she managed to hoist herself onto its back before soaring into the air.

Ryden let his gaze trail over the disappearing hawk before he turned his attention back to the situation at hand. Ark and Tales seemed to be hurling whatever they could bring against her, all to no avail. Her ward was much too strong.

_If someone could just disable that guard...we'd have an easy shot at her._

Ryden picked up the bade and pointed it at Ceraia, arm outstretched. "Distortion Drive!" White lightning coalesced at the hilt of the crusader's blade before it rushed forward with a mighty roar, searing the ground and charging point-blank towards its target. Ceraia's gaze shot towards the beam of energy- almost in slow motion, it seemed- and she raised her arms at the last moment.

Electricity rent the air as magic collided with the barrier, Ryden's arte accomplishing what Ark and Tales could not. This time, as Ceraia blocked, a rift of white energy seemed to appear in front of her otherwise flawless shield, though only for a split second.

However, both Ark and Tales had seen it.

In unison, both crusader and sniper drove their blades forward, and there was a dreadful cry as twin blades of fire and ice shattered the barrier in a single decisive thrust. Ark felt his wrist shake as the Soul Reaver met her shield for a second, and then the sword passed through, slicing through thin air before embedding itself about three inches into the side of the archmage's robes.

Lavender eyes flashed before a sudden explosion of freezing ice suddenly threw itself in front of Ark, temporarily blinding him as icy wind grazed his face. Throwing his right arm over his eyes, he saw Ceraia charging forward; but not towards him.

"_Ryden, get out of-"_

There was an almighty flash of light as the swordsman's body skidded some length along the wet ground, coming to a blunt stop face-down in a stretch of waterlogged earth. Spitting mud from his mouth, Ryden barely had time to react before Ceraia slashed at him with her wand, now a blade. As Ryden forced his body out of the way, the blade cut through the wet mud effortlessly where his head had been moments ago.

Raising the crossbow, Tales aimed the sight at Ceraia and pulled the trigger. A loud gunpowder-like explosion cut the air as icy vapor trailed from the sniper's weapon; in split seconds, the ground around Ceraia erupted with spikes of brilliant, clear ice, close to piercing her.

_If I needed a spell, now would be the time. _Ark raised the Soul Reaver and slashed it through the air, but nothing happened; the crusader had to bite back a cry of frustration as Ryden dodged death a second time, scrambling to his feet. _Damn these things to hell!_

There was a sudden thrum from the Twin Reavers resembling an electric shock, and Ark nearly dropped the blades out of surprise. Though the sensation was not one of pain, it felt as though someone had ran a high-voltage pulse through his body, and his arms tingled uncomfortably.

Had the Twin Reavers actually responded to his thoughts?

...No, that couldn't be. Even if these were the actual weapons that the great Paladin had fought with during the Second War, their original master was long dead. There was no way- no possible way- that weapons could think, could feel for themselves. Blades were supposed to obey their wielder and nothing more.

He raised his eyes just in time to see Ceraia fend off another barrage of bolts from the sniper, as Ryden charged with a series of thrusts unrivaled in speed and ferocity. Neither one seemed to be making any progress- the ancient leader of the Fomorii was not going to allow herself to be taken off-guard a second time.

Raising her wand and pointing it at Ryden, Ceraia slashed downwards with the blade.

There was a loud crack as a deep slash appeared in Ryden's armor, the metal completely rived by some supernatural force. Seeing the attack, Ark could not help a slight feeling of deja vu; he knew he had seen this arte somewhere before, but where?

Swiftly, Tales reloaded the slide of his crossbow and aimed it once more, this time pointing the barrel downwards. As he pulled the trigger, the ground shook under his feet, only to be split apart moments later. This time, instead of spikes, great chains of ice unfurled themselves from the earth and flung themselves at the necromantress like poisonous snakes.

Ceraia threw up her barrier once more, forcing the chains back; however, this did not deter them. Angrily darting forward, they snapped and lunged at the shield as though alive, animated by mana and force of water manipulation.

Glancing hurriedly back and forth between Ark and Tales, Ryden made up his mind and charged forward, the sword raised in his hands. Preoccupied with fending off the Devil Child's attack, Ceraia did not notice the great brand of cobalt-blue lightning bearing down upon her until it was too late.

With a great roar, Ryden brought the legendary blade of Dracon upon his foe's back.

Watching from the front, Ark saw Ceraia's mouth open a fraction of an inch in surprise, before her ward shattered like glass. Fragments of white mana spiraled through the air before disappearing into thin air, leaving the air around the necromantress remarkably clear. Fire flowing through his veins, Ark realized that there was nothing protecting her from the wrath of his next charge.

Slashing his wrist through the air, Tales aimed the icy chains at the archmage's arms and midsection, intending to bind her in place. She managed to drive back his assault once, twice- furious bursts of lightning visible in her pupils- then howled angrily as the snakelike binds secured themselves around her limbs, holding her in place.

Turning his bespectacled gaze to the crusader, Tales jerked his head sideways- _Wolfen, do it now!_

He needed no further encouragement. Ark was already running, faster than the wind could take him, as the ancient blades of the Paladin gleamed in his grip.

This was it. He would kill her now, and free the world from her grasp. He could feel combined heat and cold searing the back of his neck as he raised the Twin Reavers above his head.

_"Die!" _Ark howled as he thrust forward and brought the shimmering blades down upon Ceraia Raizen's head.

There was a moment of brilliant exhilaration, determination, desperation as he drove the Twin Reavers forward- and then, suddenly, he struck hard air. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing; no chains, and certainly no Ceraia.

And then, he heard it. Ceraia- somehow- was laughing.

Spinning around abruptly, Ark barely had time to register her presence behind him before she slammed the glowing heel of her palm into his chest. Ark felt pure pain and shock ravage his body in a split second before he was flying, his vision clouded by light, and then his head hit the wet ground with a soft thud.

"You're foolish indeed if you think child's magic and brutish force will defeat me." she whispered. There was no edge in her voice, and at that moment Ark instinctively knew he was not dealing with a dead soul, reanimated from beyond the grave.

Ceraia Raizen, the leader of the Fomorii and the greatest necromancer to walk the earth, was still alive.

* * *

The Balrogs seemed to be enjoying the whole spectacle, Sinclaire thought.

He'd killed them long before this whole mess had started- journeying with his friends to the center of the Dungeon, seeing how long he could annoy the Jr. Balrogs with Puppet before they started getting pissed at him.

This, he told himself, was a bit different. For one thing, he usually liked to face one of them at a time, not over nine hundred. For another, he tried to make sure his forces outnumbered it at least five to one- not the other way around.

They didn't really have a choice, though.

He stole a glance at the rest of the airborne units, but their faces were hidden behind masks of valkyrion steel. It was difficult to tell what they were truly feeling- excitement, fear, insanity? He could only guess.

After all, if he couldn't even discern his own emotions, what chance did he have to read those of others?

Thinking several different thoughts in his mind, each less pleasant than the one before it, Sinclaire lowered the visor of his helmet and latched it securely in place, hiding his facial features behind cold mithril.

As Natalia Arundale had said, there was no one else. It was their task- if nothing else, he would make sure he brought down as many of them as he could with him.

The bowstring felt pleasantly taut against his callused fingertips as he caressed it almost lovingly.

"Strafe."

Upon this unspoken signal, hundreds of arrows sprung from the bows of Alpha Division, Airborne Forces, and lanced themselves through the Crimson Balrogs soaring wickedly through the sky. Though a few dropped lifelessly from the sky following the initial assault, the large majority remained.

The colonel raised his bow once more, limber against the bloody horizon as he aimed and fired.

"Inferno."

Fire fell from the clouds like rain as the bowmen's artes lit up the crimson sky. Smiling beneath his helmet in grim satisfaction, Sinclaire watched as several more flaming corpses of Balrogs tumbled to the ground below.

The last thing he remembered was wishing he'd practiced flying a little more during drills, before the world suddenly seemed to turn itself upside down.

Pressing himself flat against the back of his mount, Sinclaire felt bolts of lightning shoot over his head as death repeatedly missed him by mere feet. Relying on nothing more than a fair sense of direction and blessed dumb luck, Luke Sinclaire spiraled, corkscrewed, and dived through the air to avoid being struck down prematurely.

"Arrow Rain!" the ranger commanded, pointing the bow upwards. In response, lily-blue bolts of energy shot forth at his whim, striking the heads of several Balrogs above him. As expected, the attack had really done nothing more than aggravate them, and Sinclaire immediately dived as the demons chased after him.

Both friendly and hostile fire whizzed past Sinclaire as he struggled to remain conscious, acutely aware that there were about half a dozen angry, bloodthirsty Balrogs on his tail. He could see both Balrogs and bowmen dropping from the skies above as he flew, but did not bother to count which side was suffering greater losses.

Pulling on the back of his hawk's neck, Sinclaire deftly executed a sideslip, feinting left before abruptly shoving himself right. Taken aback, the Balrogs zoomed forward past him. Before they could react, he raised his bow and fired a neat quartet of arrows through the wings of the nearest Balrog. Howling in pain, unable to keep itself airborne, it managed to stay afloat for two more seconds before dropping like a stone.

Behind his helm, the colonel's gaunt expression relaxed slightly. _Aim for the wings. Brilliant, Luke, _he thought, almost wryly.

Angered at the loss of their teammate, the Balrogs countered by hurling blasts of dark-shaded lightning at their attacker. Sinclaire felt the back on his neck prickle as the blasts barely missed him- thank god they had crappy eyesight to compensate for their power. Sweeping his bow upwards, he fired twin strafes of arrows directly up towards the sky in front of him.

Confused, the Balrogs hovered in the air before giving chase- which was precisely Sinclaire's intent. The arrows completed their inevitable descent downwards, striking their marks perfectly. Capitalizing on the momentary chaos, Sinclaire whirled around in midair and delivered a burst of raging flame dead-center into the group of Balrogs. Two dropped dead immediately, the others roaring in pain as flame crept across their backs. One aimed a second blast of lightning at the ranger, but its aim was so disoriented by pain that Sinclaire easily dodged it.

_Time for a little fun. _Guiding himself upwards, Sinclaire avoided the Balrogs' line of sight and aimed his wrist downwards. "Puppet!"

A straw dummy materialized from thin air onto the nearest Balrog's back. Though the disguise probably would not have fooled anyone else, the Balrogs had poor enough eyesight (and intelligence) to mistake it as the real enemy. Dark lightning rippling from its claws, the Crimson Balrog shot its own partner down.

Tasked with only one more to deal with, Sinclaire aimed the bow at his prey before a sudden blast of golden lightning ripped past him and struck the demon directly in the chest. Its eyes widened in surprise before it plummeted towards the ground.

"That was quite impressive, Luke." Natalia Arundale admitted as she lowered her bow.

"Nat- I mean, what are you doing here?" Sinclaire blinked, surprised. "I thought you were guarding the west side-"

"The west side will be fine on its own." Arundale nodded curtly. "I think we have a bigger threat to deal with here." Almost carelessly, she waved a hand at the ensuing battle above them.

Sinclaire was about to respond when his gaze suddenly caught sight of Natalia's leg- there was a vicious burn crossing her upper thigh, having completely burnt away the armor underneath. Though the wound itself was swathed with bandages, he could still see (and smell) burnt flesh underneath.

"Are you...all right?" he chanced to ask.

Slowly, Natalia fixed the colonel with a stern glare. "I've fared worse."

Behind his helm, Sinclaire managed a smile.

_Let's go._

* * *

"Have at them!" Gabriel Tauren roared, his arms raised, as the support magicians and bowmen behind them fired off yet another salvo of magical bolts and arrows at their watery enemies.

The frontal assault seemed to thin out the Fomorii for a moment before the line in their ranks closed, leaving no sign that any attack had been made.

Gabriel closed his eyes and rumpled his hair in frustration, as though confronted with an especially perplexing equation. No matter how long, how fast, or how hard he hit them, they always seemed to regenerate.

_I can't make heads or tails of their mana signature. Its basic pattern resembles that of a human, or at least a humanoid- but it's made of water, pure water. I can almost feel some kind of intelligence behind its movements- some innate force, almost like it's alive, and yet it's not._

_Call me crazy, Blade, but it almost seems like they're souls- human souls bonded through magic to corporeal water._

Blade. Though Gabriel would rather not have admitted it, especially at a time like this, Ascion had been his research partner at the Ellinian Magic Academy. Although Gabriel truthfully had more theoretical experience than his younger counterpart, Ascion had always taken it upon himself to quantify and verify Gabriel's hypotheses. It had annoyed Gabriel to some degree- he felt as though the younger priest was vilifying him in some way by doing so.

This time, he no longer had anyone to explain. He had to rely on his own judgment.

Cursing under his breath, Gabriel healed a few stray cuts and bruises on himself before raising his gaze upwards. While the magicians and bowmen stayed to the rear and blasted away with arrows and magic, the warriors and stealth assassins had been sent forward to deal with the threat head-on. Though the humans didn't seem to be suffering significant losses- Gabriel and the healing corps made sure of that- neither did the Fomorii.

"There has to be something." he muttered out loud, minutely aware there was no one to hear. Just push some button, recite some arte, and send them all to the afterlife. Unfortunately, Gabriel knew it could not be that easy. He himself was a priest, not a mage- and anyway, even if he knew lightning magic, there was no way he could find the means to cast an arcane arte over 20 square miles of land.

Gabriel jabbed his wand upwards and roared, "Prism Sword!"

A blinding ray of white light coalesced in the middle of the Fomorii before it exploded, throwing lancelike blades of light energy across the area. The beams exploded a second time wherever they hit, throwing chaos across the field. The attack had cleared a wide range of land, but said land was filled almost instantly. There seemed no end to the tide of invaders that continued to speed across the lands of Henesys.

_Lightning magic...if only...someone..._

Quickly, flaring with determination, Gabriel's eyes scanned the ranks of magicians behind him. She had to be here. She couldn't possibly have...not here, not now...

_"Gaiden!"_

* * *

With a roaring burst of determination and strength, Dariel Marron held the Heaven's Gate aloft before swiping it through the air in a deliberate, practiced motion. The sound of metal riving metal rang out as his foe- a tall, gaunt Tauromacis- crumpled lifelessly to the earth.

They had fought for hours, it seemed, and no one was making any progress. Bodies littered the ground among them like sand upon a beach, and yet more enemies continued to come.

_These things breed like goddamn bunnies, _Marron thought, as he raked the blade through the air for the umpteenth time. His enemy fell, as had all others before it.

Next to him, Delinia Arklanser relentlessly fired arrows from her bow into the incoming thicket of enemies, her pupils orbs of white flame. Without pausing to rest, she continuously delivered a stream of death from her wrists upon the demons that threatened to overwhelm her. Any monster that got too close was rewarded with a decisive strike from the Oblivion Staff, its blunt tip burning and crushing armor, bone, and flesh alike.

Despite their skill, however, neither managed to equal the combined speed and stealth of Traphes Igzarion, the Devil Child of darkness. Able to melt easily into thin air without a trace, he would disappear before crushing the backs of his enemies with a thin dagger of bloodred darkness. Combining this with his bow mastery made him fearless, delivering death to his foes through knife, arrow, or a combination of both.

"They're coming too fast." Igzarion muttered out of his mouth once he was within earshot of the other two.

"Tell me something I don't know, Iggy." Arklanser replied acidly, summoning the Oblivion Staff and bringing its head into contact with the skull of a Taurospear.

"We're going to have to thin them out." Igzarion continued, a rare bit of determination scrawled across his usually-gaunt face. "I'll take care of it."

"In the usual way, I suppose?" the rangeress muttered.

"Right." For once, Igzarion decidedly ignored the remark. "Delinia, you and swordshead over there (Marron's knuckles whitened considerably) get out of the way when I give the signal."

"What signal?" Marron snapped, looking up from annihilating a group of Wild Cargos around him. "And what d'you mean, get out of the way?"

"Fly." Igzarion replied, as if it were a natural thing to do. As Marron watched, he drew something from the belt that served as his inventory- a large handful of gold coins.

"What are you-"

"Come on!" Arklanser snapped urgently, clamping a vicegrip onto the Paladin's wrist. As Marron struggled to collect his senses, he suddenly felt the ground disappear from under his feet, and looked up to see the crimson-haired Devil Child ascending upwards upon the back of a sky-gray hawk.

Marron's eyes traveled downwards just in time to see Igzarion scatter the coins through the air and raise his bow in one fluid motion.

As the monsters bore down upon him, Igzarion raised the bow and cast Arrow Rain. Instantly, bolts of blue lightning pierced the sky about them to strike the monsters below; in perfect synchronized motion, Igzarion followed up with Meso Explosion just as the arrows struck the coins. The ground below them suddenly burst into flames.

Even at their current altitude, Marron could feel the heat of the firestorm below as it raged upon the ground, consuming whatever lay in its path. Entire crowds of monsters disappeared, trapped amidst the howling columns of vivid flame. The fire spread rapidly, traveling like lit gasoline despite the wet ground.

In the midst of the flames, Marron glimpsed the shadowed figure of Traphes Igzarion, silhouetted in the conflagration.

"Goddess, you're heavier than you look." Arklanser snapped, guiding the hawk gently to the ground. Marron's heels sunk into the burnt earth with a soft thud.

"Blizzard Charge." Marron commanded, extinguishing some errant flames that lingered about him. "Where the hell did you learn that?"The sable-haired ranger blinked once, his pupils reflecting the dancing fire.

"You're better off not knowing."

* * *

_Balthazar. Balthazar!_

As if from a dream, the Omega Balrog opened his eyes.

_Yes, milord?_

_Leave the fight for now. I have another task for you- you and your companions._

Silently, Balthazar signaled to Melchior and Nebuchadnezzar off to the side. _Where are you?_

_The hills east of Henesys, overlooking the city. Come at once._

_Agreed. _

In the midst of the heated battle that raged across the plains, no one noticed the three great figures soaring into the darkening sky.

* * *

"_This task, what is it?" _Nebuchadnezzar asked, a slight amount of impatience in his voice.

Annoyed, Gault closed his eyes. "This battle, as much fun as it's been, is starting to bore me. The Elaesians are outnumbered, yet still they strive on. Why do they fight, knowing in the end they shall still be defeated?"

The Balrogs exchanged glances. Quite honestly, they didn't care- the more humans they could slaughter and eat, the better for them.

"I cannot stand here and watch them destroy themselves so primitively." Gault muttered, straightening himself to his full height. "I shall give them a chance- one last chance. If they value the lives of those they care about, they will surrender."

Melchior sniffed the air. _"And if they don't?"_

Without answering, Gault turned to face the former city of Henesys in the distance, even as the sounds of battle rang out over the plains.

_With this war, Bera shall sign such an act- but its pen shall be a sword, its ink the blood of thousands._

"Then, I shall have no choice." Gault replied, his voice almost regretful. Eternal Sonata gleamed on his back as he spoke.

Balthazar cleared his throat, loudly. _"With all due respect, milord, I don't believe you summoned us here for small talk."_

Gault turned an icy eye towards the Balrog, who unconsciously stepped back a pace. "I would like you to attack the city of Henesys-Elaesia directly."

All three expressed brief surprise.

_"Directly?" _Nebuchadnezzar finally managed, after some silence. _"That is madness."_

"And why, may I ask?" Gault asked. His tone had gone from being nearly normal to its usual silky, dangerous air.

_"They will undoubtedly not have such lax defenses about the city." _Balthazar replied tritely. _"In any case, a shield of mana surrounds the city- I have felt its presence. It would not be prudent to attack it at this stage."_

"So, are you going to wait for them to make it stronger?" Gault snapped flatly. "Now is as good a time as any."

Balthazar did not reply, but he stood his ground. Behind him, Nebuchadnezzar and Melchior held firm as well.

"Gazhevrog..." Gault said coldly, taking a step forward. His eyes, normally a dark bloody crimson, had faded to a cold shade of claret. There was an icy fury radiating from the bowmaster as he stepped forward, matching the Balrog's glare eye for eye.

"If you don't destroy that bloody barrier, I will."

* * *

Tiredly dragging his feet along the soft forest floor, Zeraion marked what seemed like the thousandth cross upon the bark of the nearest tree.

Once he had done so, he fell unceremoniously to the ground, not caring that the back of his head and neck were smeared in dark soil. The sun had nearly fallen; the sky was a deep orange above him. Clouds boiled as they streaked past through the sky.

Although he supposed it had to have been at least four hours from when he'd first set out, he had no timepiece of any sort and could only guess at the sun's position in the sky. During that time, there had been nothing. No arrow, and no bonfires that would have indicated the location of the arrow had one of his replicas found one.

Twenty-four hours had seemed like more than enough time when he'd first started- now it felt as though the whole thing was slipping through his fingers. Privately, he felt that Gardner should have allowed him at least a week or two- if not a month or even a year. There seemed no end to the godforsaken island.

Zeraion sat upright, rested on his knees for a moment, and then suddenly stood up and yelled the loudest swearword he possibly could, his frustrated voice resonating throughout the forest. Lying back down upon the loam, now with a sore throat, Zeraion wondered if Gardner had heard. He almost wished he had.

He was tired, didn't know if anything around was edible, didn't even know how much time had elapsed or where the hell he was, and he still hadn't found the arrow. How far could Gardner have shot it, anyway? Even the bowmaster couldn't have fired it more than a couple thousand feet- unless, of course, the shot had been magic-assisted. Zeraion swore once more, though much more quietly. He wondered if something had eaten it by accident.

Gradually, as he relaxed and allowed his muscles to rest, Zeraion became aware of the cold. The Isle of Ascension had always seemed warm, regardless of time of day; now, it felt chilly. Shivering, Zeraion drew his hands into his sleeves and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't have possibly walked far enough for the temperature to change so drastically.

After a moment of silence, Zeraion finally stood up and managed to gather a few dried branches and tinder in the dying light. Carefully, he scooped out a small pit in the earth with his hands and surrounded it with fair-sized stones, collecting the tinder inside. With a flick of his fingers, the dry wood lit up with a fresh blaze, and Zeraion sighed as heat washed over him. The fire's glow felt welcoming in the cold air.

In the warmth of the embers, Zeraion began to plan his next move. For one thing, his lack of food made itself apparent. He knew he certainly wouldn't starve to death, not even for 24 hours, but the thought of having to slog through the forest with an empty stomach sounded less and less plausible. Unfortunately, he had not brought any food, nor any edible plant guides. For the moment, he was on his own.

Briefly, Zeraion thought back a couple of years- hadn't he once killed and roasted a wild boar while wandering on the plains of Perion? Yes, after the whole mess of being possessed by Gault, he _had, _on Athos' advice, killed and (badly) butchered one of the wild animals before eating it. It had not been the high point of his culinary life.

That was completely out of commission, for one because no wild boars were in the immediate area. However, Zeraion knew he could not accept doing so. Even if he had caught and eaten one, he would have thrown it up soon after. To taste flesh after a span of several years would only be too much of a shock.

Which left only the plants. Unfortunately, his prospects seemed as bleak as ever. In his hunt for the arrow, he had not bothered to look for fruit or berry bushes, and there did not seem to be any around. Besides, even if he found fruit, how would he know if it was edible? It would be a cruel joke if he ate something for strength, only to end up completely eviscerating his insides moments later.

So food, for the moment, was set aside in his mind. Noting that the sky had faded from orange to a near-dark burgundy, Zeraion cast Silver Hawk and flew up to survey the island with what little light he had left. It took some guessing and some eye strain, but he finally calculated he was slightly six miles to the northeast of the waterfall. He also noted that he had about three more miles to go before he reached the coast.

Zeraion returned to the ground, where the fire had nearly died out to embers; he found a few stray twigs upon the ground and broke them into pieces, throwing them on the ashes. He wondered what he would do if he walked all the way to the coast and still found no arrow. Maybe he'd missed it? His insides gave a momentary jolt.

_Don't think like that, _his conscience chided, and Zeraion settled for gazing into the heart of the fire, orange-yellow tongues melting about a core of black ashes.

The shot had definitely been magic assisted, he concluded. On his own, Gardner could not have fired the arrow more than a mile, and common sense dictated he, or at least one of his replicas, would have found it in such a narrow radius by now. That, and Zeraion knew for a fact that Gardner had fired the shot north.

It just didn't make sense.

Zeraion looked up and realized the sun had completely set. There was no light except for that emanating from the fire, casting an almost pallid glow over the trees.

He looked at the fire and tried to determine if he should sleep. He certainly didn't want to resume his search tomorrow exhausted and bleary-eyed; the chances of accident while sleep-deprived were too great. Then again, if something hungry made its way towards him while he was sleeping, that would be the end of him.

Zeraion stared into the fire and thought of Gault.

He had to kill him. There was no other way. It was his responsibility and his alone. He had already wreaked enough destruction upon the land of Bera- Zeraion could not let it continue.

On impulse, Zeraion picked up a fairly thick branch from the ground and placed its tip in the fire, turning it into a torch. Then he smothered the fire with dirt, a cloud of smoke erupting from the pit. Just to be safe, Zeraion waited until the ashes had completely burnt out before raising the torch and continuing onwards.

The arrow had to be _somewhere._

He walked for his usual fifty paces before stopping to create his doppelgangers, which he sent off faithfully into the darkness. Leaning against the tree to steady himself, watching the cross in the wood burn itself out, Zeraion set off into the darkness once more.

This time, he had not gone more than a few paces before he felt his toes collide painfully with something. Losing his balance, he fell face forward into the ground, the scent of earth quickly filling his nostrils.

"Oh, for f-" Zeraion cursed as he wiped dirt from his face with his sleeve. There was a bruise on his knee where it had hit a stone, and he allowed his anger to simmer for a moment before getting up. He had probably tripped over a stray tree root or something...

Turning around and holding the torch closer to the ground, Zeraion saw the unmistakable shaft of an arrow protruding from the outstretched root of the nearest tree.

* * *

Stunned into silence, Ark Wolfen, Rysdale Tales, and Ryden Dracon were currently circling their enemy, not allowing their gazes to linger off of her. However, Ceraia seemed not the least perturbed- on the contrary, one could almost say she was enjoying herself. A thin, deadly smile graced her face, almost like a knife blade in the darkness.

Though it was they who had her surrounded, she was the predator; and consequently, they were the prey.

"This game's gone on long enough." Ceraia said quietly, her voice barely audible, yet no less dangerous in the threat it carried. "It's time for you to die."

She raised her wand, and light blossomed from both ends, quickly forming themselves into curved blades. Wielding the scythe expertly, Ceraia cleaved three deep rifts in the ground about her. Instantly, white cracks of energy sped from the rifts, heading towards each of her opponents in turn.

_Go, go, go! _Ark screamed mentally as he clenched the Twin Reavers harder and launched himself across the ground, wings on his feet. Sidestepping the deadly rift, he raised the blades and charged towards Ceraia, with no effect. They would have to break her shield once more.

In another moment, both Ark and Ryden were lunging at her with all the strength they could muster, delivering blows upon her shield like rain. Fire, ice, and lightning blazed through the air as both crusaders stabbed, thrust, slashed, and tried at all costs to break her guard. However, Ceraia was too fast. Expertly twirling the scythe in her hands, she was able to block one's attacks with one blade while parrying the other's blows with the other end.

A gust of wind swept the ground as Tales cast Golden Eagle, mounting himself upon it and soaring into the air. _You two keep her busy. I'll see if I can get a shot or two at her._

_Easy for you to say, _Ryden snapped sullenly, as Ceraia feinted another one of his slashes. Seizing the greatsword, Ryden lunged and delivered a massive stab with the blade, lightning blasting off the edge as it struck Ceraia's guard. The swordsman clenched his teeth as the blade struck the shield; it was almost as though he'd stabbed solid diamond. The shield wavered but did not fall.

Breathing heavily, Ark slammed the Twin Reavers one after the other into Ceraia's shield, great leaps of fire and ice rolling off the edge of the shield. He succeeded in striking glancing blows along the length of the ward, but failed to break it.

Abruptly, Ceraia turned about-face and spun the scythe with surprising force, nearly wrenching the blades out of her attackers' hands. Threading the shaft under her arms and behind her back, she countered both Ark and Ryden with a series of offensive slashes of her own, flowing from one strike to the next like quicksilver. Both were forced to guard as Ceraia's thrusts came within mere inches of their bodies.

Above the battle, Tales carefully trained the iron sight of his crossbow onto his mark, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. _It would help if you two kept her still. It's rather more difficult to hit a moving target than a stationary._

_You__ try keeping her still_, came the blunt, hurried reply.

Tales ignored the remark, adjusting his glasses as his amber hair fluttered past his shoulders. As a sniper and expert arcanist, he possessed a number of useful qualities, but above all was patience. Fire too soon or too late, and all the time spent in preparation for a shot would be wasted. Whereas rangers cared about putting as many arrows through the enemy as possible, snipers focused on dealing critical damage in a single maneuver.

As with all occasions, he got his opportunity soon enough. Both Ark and Ryden lashed out in unison at Ceraia, twin blades aimed towards opposite sides of her at once. Swiftly, Ceraia raised her scythe to block both attacks- a move that left her midriff wide open.

Tales touched his finger to the trigger, glowing a soft silver, and fired.

"Equalizer."

Like silver lightning, a bolt of spectral energy streamed forth from the sniper's crossbow at terminal velocity, shooting towards Ceraia. The blast traveled at such a high speed, it seemed more a single laser beam than a projectile assault. Eyes widening, Ceraia wrenched her scythe downward to block the attack.

She missed. Tales' shot pierced her unprepared ward like scissors through paper and traveled downward underneath her guard, searing fiercely across her left thigh.

As Ceraia froze, out of pain and shock, Ryden brought the blade of his sword upon her back for the second time. This time, the blade crushed through the shield and scored a deep cut across her back.

Beside herself with rage, Ceraia whirled around and flicked her wrist, glowing crimson with dark mana, at Ryden. Though he managed to utter a defensive arte to absorb the force of the explosion, it threw him some distance across the ground.

Staggering to his feet, Ryden was nevertheless encouraged. _Her shield seems to be getting weaker every time we destroy it._

_Then, we'll just have to destroy it...again and again! _Ark thought, determined to take advantage of the opening as he stabbed forward with the Soul Reaver. There was the expected resistance as the blade impacted against the fresh shield, but Ark could see a brief rift in the air as he drew back; her defenses were slowly but surely becoming weaker.

She was not, however, going to go down without a fight.

"Redemption!" Ceraia commanded, spinning on her heel towards Ark and driving her scythe in a spiral motion towards him, lightning flowing off the blades. The attack unexpectedly forced him back a few steps; as he regained his balance, she lunged at him with a diagonal slash that narrowly missed his neck.

Ryden thrust downward with the Deathbringer, slashing the ground as a fanged wave of energy rose up towards the archmage. Undeterred, Ceraia repelled the blast with a wave of her arm, only to have Ryden follow up with an uppercut that left a glowing rift in her guard. As she prepared to strike against him, Ark weakened her further with a second slash from the Blood Reaver.

_Now, Tales! _

The sniper focused his sight on the ground and fired. This time, a great javelin of ice blossomed from the barrel of the crossbow and hurtled towards Ceraia with the force of a missile. It impacted dead-center above her head, throwing shards of ice everywhere as a gigantic crack of white appeared in the barrier above her head.

Timing his attack perfectly, Ryden held the Deathbringer aloft and aimed it directly at Ceraia just as her shield broke.

"Fusion Gate!"

A swirling rift of energy appeared around the hilt of Ryden's sword before it abruptly coalesced into a glowing orb of light that quickly enveloped Ryden's entire arm in a torrent of mana. Stepping forward, Ryden hefted the sword and delivered a great slash to the barrier, shattering it easily as shards of lightning and mana exploded through the air. Though the barrier had stopped the blade from cutting her in half, the resulting explosion threw her a great distance backwards.

_This is it. _

As Ceraia attempted to alight herself, Tales aimed a series of icy bolts downwards, raising a series of icy spires around her that managed to delay her long enough for Ark to charge forward, the Twin Reavers raised.

"Slash Blast!" Ark commanded, swiping the Twin Reavers across Ceraia's weakened guard; turning on his heel, he struck once more. "Final Attack!" The resulting explosion left a visible rift in her fourth-regenerated shield; and Ark then knew this was it.

Drawing back his arms for the final blow, Ark closed his eyes, crossed the Twin Reavers above his head and brought them down upon Ceraia's form.

The blades pierced her barrier easily, shattering it for the last time; yet as the blades traveled downward, they struck something hard and immovable.

Opening his eyes, Ark saw the impossible; Ceraia had actually taken ahold of the Twin Reavers with her bare hands, the tips of the blades clutched immovably in her fingers. His eyes widening in utter disbelief, Ark tried to force the Reavers forward, but they were immovable against Ceraia's stance.

"The Twin Reavers..." Ceraia breathed ferally, her voice becoming manic. _"_You, of all people, who dare wield the Twin Reavers..."

Ceraia's eyes flashed, and Ark nearly screamed out loud; he could feel what seemed like a blistering electric shock run its way through his hands, striking him with a searing, blinding pain. He tried to let go of the Twin Reavers, but they seemed permanently attached to his palms.

_"You dare use my own blades against me...it was I who forged the Twin Reavers, child! By my own blood and soul, I sacrificed my life to create the ultimate weapons...a source of power so great that Razier himself would tremble before it! Blade of the gods and axe of death himself, indeed! These weapons were meant for greater hands than yours, and you...you are nothing!"_

As Ark struggled to remain conscious from the pain flooding his body, rifts began to appear in the Twin Reavers. Even as he held on to the blades for dear life, cracks of dark-lavender energy spiraled from Ceraia's fingers along the blood red and icy blue blades, blinding Ark's vision with the dark light.

He managed to meet Ceraia's furious, blazing gaze one last time before the Twin Reavers shattered in his grip.

Blown backwards by the force of the explosion, shards of fiery and icy crystalline metal flew through the air, many embedding themselves in Ark's face and body. Falling backwards, only aware of the immense pain he was in and nothing more, Ark heard Ceraia Raizen's last words:

_"Darius...begone for all eternity!"_

That was the last sentence he heard before Ceraia's scythe drove itself forward and stabbed him through the chest.

Blood exploded from Ark's chest and mouth as the blade of the scythe crushed through his body, appearing through his back; pain flooded his vision with blinding, searing white light, and then-

-the pain abruptly stopped.

He could hear screams, shouts in the distance, but knew none of it mattered any more. The light was no longer fierce and blinding; on the contrary, it was warm, almost relaxing, and he felt as if he were floating away. Exhaustion quickly closed his eyes as he lost consciousness.

After what seemed like the first truly pleasant rest he'd had in a long time, he tried to get up, but couldn't. The pain had returned somewhat and it felt like someone was poking a hot iron rod into his ribcage. He tried to move, but couldn't. Someone- or something- was holding him down. Though firm, the touch was gentle, caring, and it seemed to alleviate the pain a little.

Slowly, Ark opened his eyes, and saw the silhouette of a person above him. The figure seemed strangely familiar, with dark hair. Whoever it was had a faint smile, almost sad, as though he or she were sharing his pain right now. He could feel the person's warm touch leave his wounded chest for a moment before it touched his forehead.

As the light gradually faded from his vision, Ark was able to look clearly upon the face of his beholder, and then he saw him for the first time.

"I'm so glad you're here, Ark." Ascion Blade whispered as he stared down at his stunned brother, speechless with disbelief and emotion. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Any great excitement Zeraion Phoenix might have felt upon discovery of the arrow was instantly quashed as soon as he examined it closely by the light of the torch.

It was definitely not the same arrow that Gardner had asked him to find- he could tell because the wooden shaft was a pallid gray-blue and partly rotten from age; it had several jagged splinters and a kind of greenish mold covered its length. The metal arrowhead itself had completely rusted away, a blunt, misshapen wedge of rust in his palm. The tail feathers had completely withered away, only the bare stems remaining.

He still did not know where the original arrow was, and now he found himself facing the question of where this one had come from.

Zeraion balanced the arrow in his hand for a moment before throwing it back down onto the ground where it had first lay; then, on second thought, he went over and retrieved it, putting it into his pocket. If nothing else, he could at least ask Gardner about it when he got back.

If he got back, that was.

Zeraion walked onwards for some time, continuing to scrutinize the ground, before realizing he'd forgotten to count off his usual fifty steps- he had been so engrossed in thinking about the arrow that he had completely forgotten to summon his replicas once more.

Swearing, Zeraion cast the arte as the doppelgangers set off into the forest without another word. He looked up into the darkness, half-hoping that one of his replicas would have found it by now, but there was no sign of smoke in the blackened sky, merely a crescent moon and a few errant stars.

As Zeraion walked, he noticed the air around him was becoming slightly more humid. He also noticed the trees were becoming gradually sparser and sparser, giving way to thick, tangled underbrush and vines that seemed to crisscross everywhere. He found himself on the receiving end of many thorny branches and vines as he struggled onwards.

Through it all, he continued to search for the familiar thin shape of an arrow shaft.

Holding up the torch, which by now had burnt down to nearly a smoldering half-foot of wood in his hand, Zeraion carefully eyed the length of bush that lay in front of him.

Nothing, except leaves, vines, and a pair of large, bulbous berries hanging from the nearest bush. Curious, Zeraion held the torch closer; they were deep yellow, with black dots in their center.

Zeraion blinked confusedly and stepped back; what kind of berries were these? Were they even edible? His stomach growled.

Zeraion muttered something under his breath before turning away; as he did so, his stomach went from growling to panting excitedly.

...Wait a minute. His stomach was panting?

Quickly, Zeraion's eyes shot back to the bush, but the strange berries had disappeared.

"...Oh, no."

As Zeraion instinctively dived to the side, something with the force of a bomb exploded through the underbrush, growling fiercely as it turned to face him. Zeraion hit the ground with a thud; the torch flew from his hands and quickly extinguished itself in the dirt. Trapped in pitch darkness, Zeraion heard a low, throaty snarl before something hot, foul, and furry collided into him.

As sharp, knifelike claws ripped into his shoulder, Zeraion jabbed his arm upwards and roared, "Inferno!" Instantly, there was a yelp as a gigantic plume of fire momentarily lit up the area, and Zeraion found himself face-to-face with a gigantic, hungry black jaguar.

Wincing in pain, Zeraion reached for his quiver only to find it empty; he then realized with a cold jolt it must have fallen out when it leaped onto him. He barely had time to think this thought before it leaped again with a roaring yowl; Zeraion threw himself once more upon the ground. He wasn't fast enough; its claws dug into his leg, hard enough to draw blood.

"Inferno!" Zeraion commanded, shooting a blast of flame from his fingers into the beyond. The dry bushes immediately caught fire, and Zeraion was able to see his enemy clearly for the first time. It was licking its claws, coated in his blood, as it stared hungrily at him. Unlike what he had expected, it was massive- about the size of a car.

"Goddess." Zeraion had time to whisper before it pounced once more, its foul breath clouding his brain. This time, it clawed his uninjured shoulder, and Zeraion felt hot blood drip down his arm. Anger beginning to replace fear in his brain, he drew his fist back and hissed "Inferno!" through clenched teeth. As flames lit up his fist, Zeraion punched the jaguar directly in the face.

There was a loud hiss and yowl from the huge cat as it jumped back, snarling; a brilliant scorch mark decorated its face where Zeraion had hit it. Blood dribbled from its face as it stared maliciously at its prey; it had every intent to rip the human limb from limb.

As it pounced, Zeraion clenched his fist and commanded, "Thunder Spear!"

A flash of lightning lit up the forest as Zeraion summoned the bladed shaft, its edge shimmering with electricity. Blinded by the flash, the jaguar froze in mid-jump and landed a good distance away from Zeraion, circling him uncertainly.

"Nice kitty." Zeraion muttered through clenched teeth, waving the spear in his hand. If it pounced, he wasn't sure how he would react; his shoulders were torn and he was in too much pain to use the weapon properly.

He made up his wind as it pounced once more, its jaws open and its claws drawn. As it leaped forward, Zeraion closed his eyes and lunged forward with the spear, thrusting blindly.

The jaguar managed to close its mouth around Zeraion's wrist before the blade of the lightning-edged weapon tore through its lower body. Screaming as the beast's fangs sunk into his hand, Zeraion ripped the jaguar's jaw off him and swung the lance downwards into its body. The blade ran the crazed animal through to the ground one last time before it fell to its side and stopped moving.

Zeraion avulsed the spear and sunk to his knees, clutching at his hand. The jaguar's teeth had penetrated a good distance into the flesh, and blood was dribbling out at a rather fast rate. In addition to the wound on his hand, Zeraion's shoulders and right leg were torn. He could feel his sight begin to blur as a feverish air crept over him.

Quickly, Zeraion tore off his sapphire hauberk and his undershirt, now stained a vivid crimson. He then burned the fabric of the shirt into neat strips, as his shoulders were too wounded to pull. Roughly, Zeraion tied the fabric around his wrist; it turned red almost instantly. He wrapped a second and third layer around it before using the rest of the material to bandage his shoulders and leg. Thankfully, the armor had reduced the damage of his other wounds, so they weren't as serious- but he could only guess at what would happen to his wrist. If it got infected or had to be amputated, his dream of becoming a bowmaster would stay a dream forever.

He was bleeding in pitch darkness, in the middle of nowhere, and there was no one around.

"Come on, come on." Zeraion muttered, holding a lit branch up as he searched along the ground for his bow. Thankfully, he found the Abyssal Arund glimmering on the ground a short distance away. The hard grip felt pleasantly reassuring in his palm. _Athos?_

_Yes? _

The spirit's voice had never sounded so relaxing before.

_I'm a little hurt, if you haven't noticed._

A warmth seemed to emanate from the bow. _I've noticed._

Zeraion closed his eyes and allowed the Divine Child to take possession of his body, his consciousness gradually melting into nothing. As Zeraion's hair lengthened, his eyes growing sharper, his body becoming taller, his physical wounds seemed to melt away. The cuts and slashes on his body glowed briefly before a mystical white light sealed them once more, leaving flawless, if slightly tender skin behind.

"Thanks." Zeraion muttered once he'd regained consciousness. Slowly, he staggered to his feet and shook out his arms and legs; he had never gotten used to the sensation of someone taking over his body. He doubted he ever would. "I was almost worried you couldn't do it."

Athos chuckled. _Be ever vigilant, dragon child._

"I hate it when you act like Rathias Gardner." Zeraion muttered wryly, sheathing the bow as he walked forward. The ground seemed to be getting wetter under his feet, his boots squishing into the muddy earth.

As the water level slowly rose from his heels to close to his ankles, Zeraion took a step forward- and his right leg landed in a deep well of water.

Swearing at the shock of cold water rushing into his boot, Zeraion cast Inferno and looked around himself, pulling his leg out of the water. He seemed to be in a swamp- everywhere he looked, at least half an inch of water covered the ground, blades of wild grass peeking out from the water.

Looking down at himself, Zeraion saw that he had just stepped in the edge what seemed to be a deep, brackish pool in the middle of the drenched earth. Algae and lilies floated on its glassy, opaque surface. Kneeling down and swirling a hand through the water, he was surprised to find it -underneath the surface layer of algae- remarkably clear. He wondered if it was clean enough to drink, though he doubted it.

As Zeraion dwelled on the thought, he heard a sudden splash and looked down. Close to his feet, a small salamander-like creature had emerged from the pool. It looked up at Zeraion with curious, almost innocent eyes, then scuttled off to the side. Curious, Zeraion lit a flare in his palm and watched it as it scurried along the ground. It plucked a long, thin twig from the ground in its mouth before scurrying back to the pool and disappearing inside.

Zeraion watched the surface of the pool interestedly, wondering what kind of lizard would bring twigs to its underwater home. Perhaps it was building a nest, he thought; a little nest of sticks, just like birds made, laying its eggs inside. Lizard nests, he thought, as he watched the pool quietly.

In moments, a second lizard poked its head out from the water and crawled onto the ground, just as the first had done. It poked around in the grass for a few moments before emerging with its treasure; another branch, similar in size to the first one. Zeraion watched it dash to the pool once more, disappearing with a soft splash.

Out of curiosity, Zeraion went to his knees and plucked a stray twig from the ground, similar in size to the ones the lizards had carried. He twirled it briefly in his fingers; what was so special about these sticks that the little lizards would rush out of their homes to collect them? Were they used for building nests- were they a source of food? He chuckled at the thought of lizards eating wood.

Absentmindedly, Zeraion balanced the twig in his hand before throwing it forward. He watched it fly straight before it disappeared into the pool with a splash. Just like a dart, he thought, or maybe an arrow-

_The arrow._

In an instant, Zeraion realized where the old arrow he had found had come from, and he realized where the arrow- his arrow- was.

The arrow was in this very swamp. Rathias Gardner had- somehow- deliberately aimed it into this area, because he had taken the very same test himself. The old arrow, the one he had found previously, was the one that Gardner had been sent to find twenty-some odd years ago. The splinters weren't splinters; they were bite marks, and the mold wasn't mold either; it was an algae stain.

The arrow that Zeraion knew he needed to find was underwater, safely hidden by the little lizards in the depths of the pool.

Zeraion walked over to the edge of the pool and bent over it; there was no way of knowing how deep it was. A weight settled in his stomach; he had never been particularly good at diving or holding his breath. What if he panicked, or couldn't find his way out, or got attacked by something underwater? Zeraion shuddered at the thought of breathing water, inhaling water, choking water until he could no longer breathe. It would be a horrible way to die.

But then again, Rathias Gardner had done it...and he was still alive. After all, hadn't he said it was not in "a place so dangerous that you cannot reach it?" Zeraion's misgivings gradually subsided as he considered the facts. As tough as his training regimens might be, he knew Gardner would never intentionally try to kill his student.

Still, it was underwater...and only the Goddess knew what lurked in the deep. As Zeraion stared up into the sky, he thought he saw the outline of Grace's face, illuminated in the stars.

_Someday, I'll set you free._

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Zeraion Phoenix dived into the water.

* * *

"You're here." Ark whispered breathlessly, not sure if he was scared, relieved, or both.

"So I am." Ascion replied calmly, in the same cool tone that Ark had known for the last sixteen years.

"Where am I?" Ark burst out, unable to keep his questions to himself any longer. "How did I get here? Am I-"He held off from completing his sentence.

"It's all right, Ark." a voice behind him spoke reassuringly. "You're just in a different world now."

Ark turned around and saw the figure of his mother standing behind him.

Avelyn Blade remained silent as she allowed herself to run her fingers through her eldest son's dark hair, a wistful expression on her face. Ascion watched silently, his arms folded across his lap.

Suddenly, Avelyn took ahold of Ark's left hand and gently tugged the empty ring off his finger. "Oh, Ark, you received my message." she whispered quietly, clasping his hand tenderly. "I thought Keiga would never have told you."

Blankly, Ark nodded and allowed himself to take a look at his surroundings. He was in a bed, pristine white covers draped over him; he himself was clad in a white robe. Ascion was sitting in a chair at his bedside; he wore silver, as did their mother. Her armor jangled lightly as she sat on the bed, next to him. They seemed to be in a small, but well-furnished room. A bookshelf rested on the wall opposite from them, a desk next to it.

"Is...Dad here?" Ark asked gingerly, expecting the answer.

Neither moved or spoke, and at that Ark turned his gaze towards the open door.

Rafael Celas Wolfen walked across the room and gazed down at his son, an unreadable look scrawled across his features. Unlike Avelyn and Ascion, he wore black; a dark robe that trailed to the floor, laced with gold trim. His hair, disheveled in dark tufts that hung partway to his shoulders, strongly resembled that of his son.

As Ark stared up at his father, he felt a tiny pang of bitterness inside his chest. Even though he had known in his heart that it was all but impossible, he had always entertained the idea that his father had still been alive all these years.

"You've grown, Arklen." Rafael said shortly. There was a slight air of guilt in his tone.

"I..." Ark was unsure of what to say in response.

Abruptly, Rafael stretched out a hand and allowed his fingers to graze Ark's left cheek briefly. "I am so sorry, Ark." he whispered, letting his hands rest limply at his sides. "Believe me when I say that I deeply cared about you and your brothers- perhaps too much for my own good. But, the Blood Reaver..." He exhaled deeply and continued. "It was your mother's wish. I could not ignore her pleas in good conscience, and deprive you of the legacy you so deserved. I only wish that, perhaps, I might have cared more for you in the process."

"It's fine, Dad." Ark said, truthfully. He no longer resented his father's leaving- in a world like this, he was totally at peace with everything.

"The Twin Reavers." Ascion cut in, interrupting the silence that followed. "The Soul and Blood Reavers- where are they?"

Suddenly, the pain seemed to flood Ark with a vengeance as he remembered- the Twin Reavers were no more. They had been destroyed, wiped from the face of the earth by their creator. The legacy that his parents had sacrificed their lives for no longer existed.

"I-" Ark put a hand to his forehead and found it surprisingly hot; his eyes also tickled. "The Reavers...they're..."

"They're gone." Avelyn finished. Though there were no windows, a soft breeze was blowing through the room, ruffling her hair.

"They're gone." Ark repeated listlessly; he no longer tried to stop the tears. "They're gone, both of them, and I couldn't-"

He felt his mother gently wipe away his tears with her fingers.

"It doesn't matter." she whispered quietly, her voice soothing him, and he lay back against the soft cushions of the bed.

"But-" Ark tried to protest. "If they're gone, then how can we stop...Razier?"

"That is the duty of the Lightbringer." Rafael said quietly. "It is out of our hands now."

Ark lay quietly against the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Were they really created by her?" he finally asked, reaching upwards.

"What?" Ascion asked.

"The Twin Reavers." Ark muttered, sitting up. "That woman- she claimed she forged them first. But that's impossible, right? They have to be at least thousands of years old by now..." He saw a melancholy look cross his mother's face for a moment.

"The Twin Reavers..." Avelyn said, quietly kneading the bedsheets with her fingers, "were forged by an archmage and necromantress named Ceraia Raizen hundreds of years ago, during the Second Ancient War."

"The _second _Ancient War?" Ark blinked. "There's a second one?"

"Technically, yes." Rafael nodded. "The first full-scale conflict involving Razier- the one we refer to as _the _Ancient War- took place millennia ago, and it involved the Final Four- the four individuals who, in addition to performing the first soul transmutations in an attempt to stop Razier, were said to be the founders of the four classes we know today: warrior, bowman, magician, thief, and were the ancestors of today's elders."

"And the second one?" Ark asked.

"That war was due in large part to the resurgence of Razier, about a thousand years after the first Ancient War and about two hundred years prior to our time. In this conflict, the key individuals here were the Divine Children- those who were supposedly prophesied by the elven archmage of the Final Four, Lisandea, to banish the great demon from the earth once and for all. As you know, the Divine Children were the alchemist Valter Stalrigarde and the paladin Darius Ryuuzaki, both humans, and the archmage Ceraia Linnares and the bowmaster Asthathos Rindelasca, both of elven lineage."

_Ceraia Linnares._

_Ceraia Raizen._

"Were Ceraia Raizen and Ceraia Linnares...the same person?" Ark realized.

Rafael nodded solemnly. "Ceraia Raizen was a half-elf born in the ancient city of Galiaen, now lost in Sleepywood. Her father was elven, her mother human. We can only speculate what occurred in her childhood, but I believe it goes without saying that she endured more than her fair share of abuse because of her bloodlines." The priest's eyes narrowed. "This, no doubt, led her to explore the forbidden artes of necromancy; the very same artes that had borne the demon Razier."

Ark sat back and closed his eyes briefly, trying to absorb all the information. "What happened to her afterwards?"

"With her knowledge, she quickly became one of the most powerful mages upon Bera." Rafael went on. "Though her knowledge of elemental artes was great enough in itself, she found her forte in necromancy. It rather appealed to her, I suppose, as it does to those today.

"Elemental spells obey set laws of nature; they are composed of controlled variables, namely mana and force of will. However, necromantic artes are quite another altogether because they utilize a third variable- that mysterious object known most simply as a soul. With this soul- this innate life force that all beings seem to possess, the first necromancers began to discover immense uses for their artes. They could control others' minds, force them to do their bidding. They could tap into the soul's mana potential to create highly destructive artes. And yes," Rafael continued, his eyes narrowed seriously, "they were able to raise the dead...so to speak."

"She began to attract followers." Avelyn continued, picking up from where her husband had left off. "Individuals like her, who desired fame and power. Many of them were simply power-crazed humans and elves who were addicted to power as others wealth or lust, but she also inspired a great number of half-elves- those who felt oppressed by the other races simply because of their own blood, something they had no control over. They saw her cause as not evil, but simply a rightful crusade for their race as a whole."

"This group became known as the Fomorii." Rafael stated. "Together, under the command of their leader, they explored necromancy farther than it had ever been done so before. In those early days, necromancy, as well as all magic in general, was still in its infancy, and needless to say, they quickly attracted much attention to their cause."

"It all came to a bloody head when they set their sights on soul transmutation." Avelyn shook her head. "They took the base principles of alchemy- a branch of magic explored by humans- and adapted it to their own needs. Supposing the soul could itself be transmuted into something different, into a source of power- the possibilities would have been endless."

"One can only imagine what could have occurred had they succeeded." Rafael sighed, bowing towards the ground. "As fate would have it, the soul transmutation, attempted upon the conglomerate souls of over a hundred Crimson Balrogs, failed beyond their wildest nightmares. Razier, as the result was known, turned on its former masters and punished them for their deeds...before turning upon the world itself."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room afterward.

"She lived to regret her mistake." Ascion's voice sounded comforting in the small room. "She gathered those of her followers that survived Razier's purge and performed a complex kind of soul transmutation in which she bound their souls to the sea; oddly appropriate, considering the word 'Fomorii' means 'sea demons' in elvish. Then, she herself pledged herself to the destruction of Razier...but unfortunately, not for the greater good."

"She then forged the Twin Reavers, didn't she?" Ark asked. "To defeat the monster she'd created?"

"To condense a very long-winded chain of explanation and speculation, yes." Rafael nodded. "As those around her gradually died away of age, she kept herself alive through complex soul transmutations, all the while seeking to create the penultimate weapon that would defeat Razier. For hundreds and hundreds of years, she failed...and then, Razier resurfaced."

"The weapons that the Divine Children are said to have used were, in fact, all forged by Ceraia." Avelyn revealed. "The Abyssal Arund, the Umbral Helios, the Hellish Ritual, and the Grim Mamba, used respectively by Rindelasca, Ryuuzaki, Ceraia herself, and Stalrigarde."

"Why did she change her name?" Ark wondered.

"Ah." For an instant, a faint smile graced Rafael's face. "You see...Ceraia Raizen had fallen in love."

"Love?" Ark blinked surprisedly. "Who could she possibly have-"

Ascion finished his sentence for him. "Athos Rindelasca."

"She changed her name to avoid suspicion, for her given name was quite infamous by that time." Avelyn went on. "Raizen the half-elf became Linnares the pure-blood, and no one was the wiser. It must be said that Asthathos certainly reciprocated her feelings; some of his letters, which still exist, detail trysts with his beloved Ceraia."

"Hm." Ark stared at the floor for a minute.

"Why," he finally asked, "did Ceraia hate Darius Ryuuzaki so much?"

"No one truly knows." Rafael admitted, after a long silence. "But if I had to chance an educated guess...I suppose it was because Darius was in love with her as well."

"Somehow, Darius Ryuuzaki found out Ceraia's true identity." Avelyn murmured wistfully, her hands folded. "It's not known how, although it's likely he saw her perform a necromantic arte at some time or other." She sighed before continuing. "It didn't take a rocket scientist to discover the correlation between Ceraia Raizen and Ceraia Linnares after that."

"Then, what happened?" Ark asked, a little too quickly.

Rafael smiled sadly. "You could say it was the soap opera or romantic pulp novel of its day. Though Darius may have been, by all accounts, a chivalrous and honorable Paladin, I suppose he was only human...and those flaws, if anything, set the events in motion for what was to happen next.

"Darius was acutely aware that Asthathos and Ceraia were having an affair at the time, and he obviously wasn't thrilled about it. So to speak, he propositioned her one night telling her he knew her true identity, and that he would tell her lover...unless she agreed to do something for him."

"So they had-"

"Yes, but that's not important." Rafael snapped; Ascion managed a slight smile. "As a result of this illicit affair of sorts, she apparently also agreed to forge a powerful new weapon for him; the Twin Reavers, greatest blades of their day. In his true fashion, Darius erroneously credited himself with forging the weapons; the rumor persists to this day.

"Despite this, Ceraia still announced her intent to marry Asthathos some time later- and this, as you can imagine, sent Darius into a rage. As promised, he marched straight off to Athos and told him the truth. This, however, didn't change anything- when you're in love, nothing else really matters anymore." Rafael winked briefly at Avelyn, who chanced a slight blush. "That, I believe, was the source of the bad blood between Darius Ryuuzaki and Ceraia Raizen. She never forgave him afterwards, and there are some sources that say she murdered him, although I wouldn't put too much money on those theories."

Rafael ended the story with a smile, lying back in his chair.

"So, now you know the truth." he finally said, touching a hand to his forehead.

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Ark muttered, gazing down at himself. "The Twin Reavers are gone now."

"No, Ark." Avelyn laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ark was surprised to see her smiling. "The Twin Reavers aren't gone- not truly. They still live on, inside you."

Ark was about to ask if this was all a corny joke or something before Rafael interrupted, holding a hand up. "Ark, listen to me. I realize this may be difficult to believe, but the Twin Reavers were never destroyed in the first place. Ceraia was able to destroy their physical forms, but those were nothing more than crystalline metal and gemstones. You possess their soul, so to speak- in your veins, you carry the magic that makes them so powerful."

"My...veins?" Ark stared at his wrists as though expecting the answer to be carved in them. "You mean, my blood?"

"It's much too complex to fully explain in the time we have now, but there is a process known as pact-making that one can utilize if they wish to preserve or store away a weapon for future use." Rafael explained. "By binding a piece of one's body to a weapon, one can enchant it with its mana signature- thus, by pure force of concentration, one can reassemble items such as weapons out of thin air, simply by using the mana and matter particles around them. All you need to do is remember the incantation said over the weapon at the time of the pact...and the rest takes care of itself."

"Rafael and I each made pacts with one of the Twin Reavers." Avelyn explained, smiling. "Because you, in essence, carry both of our bloodlines, you can call upon these pacts as if they were your own."

"But...it's no use." Ark slumped against the mattress of the bed. "Even if I do have this power- which sounds kind of farfetched, frankly- what use is it? I'm dead, gone, just like the rest of you. It's not like I can go back."

At this, Rafael reached out and touched his son's cheek a second time.

"Do you truly believe," he asked, meeting Ark's gaze, "that those in the realm of death are forever separated from those that they love?"

Ark felt warmth around him as Avelyn hugged him from behind, her long hair falling across his shoulders.

"What are the words?" he whispered, his voice stiff in the air.

Ascion smiled and leaned forward, touching ahold of Ark's hand, and the crusader gradually felt warmth overcome him as he felt his brother's touch. Feeling very tired all of a sudden, Ark struggled to keep himself conscious before he relaxed and allowed the sensation to wash over him. One of his brothers was behind him, and another was waiting for him.

He could not fail.

As Ark's eyes closed and his sight blurred before subsiding into darkness, he heard Ascion's soft voice from what seemed a thousand miles away.

"_Divinis Caelestia."_

* * *

Captain Iris Gaiden, Gamma Division, Phi Regiment, stood silently at the back ranks of her assigned company as the Fomorii continued to move against her lines.

"Support units, fire!" someone's voice yelled, and Iris found herself obeying as she swished her staff through the air in a simple sweep of her arm. At her whim, a bolt of ice-blue energy formed at the head of her staff before it shot forward and was lost in a similar storm of beams, blasts, and arrows that arced over her head into the heart of the enemy forces in front of her.

Her staff felt like solid lead in her hand as she lowered it, trying to ignore the sensation of exhaustion that pressed upon her like a weight. She had been standing out here for Goddess knew how many hours, and each time the Fomorii seemed to rise up again, as numerous as ever. They could not hold out forever.

As a support magician, Iris held the least amount of risk out of anyone on the battle. Warriors and bandits at the front lines, forced to duel hand-to-hand with their enemies, risked being overwhelmed and crushed by sheer force if they strayed too far from the main company. Support healers, unlike their offensive counterparts, enjoyed no similar benefits; they seeded themselves through the frontal ranks as well, lending their aid to any unit that might need it.

Still, she felt as though she could not have cared; not even if the blade of a guillotine was hanging over her head at this very moment. All her thoughts seemed scattered to the wind; she was an empty vessel, doing nothing more than the job she had been assigned to do. If she fell in her line of duty, there would simply be a piece of paper with a number and a mimeographed signature on it, folded neatly and placed in an envelope for her relations to receive.

Perhaps, she thought, she might be crazy, but she wished she could be with him.

"_Gaiden!"_

Iris barely glanced upwards; the wind could carry her name as far as it liked now. For her own intents and purposes, she was no longer in existence. She was merely part of a whole entity that fought against another entity, forbidden to have any thoughts, emotions, or feelings of her own.

"_Gaiden, where the hell are you?!"_

It wasn't exactly a sign from the heavens, but Gabriel Tauren's voice would have to do.

She raised her head and found to her surprise she was tired; her feet felt like cinder blocks as she stepped across the wet ground. In the back of her mind, she wondered just exactly what Gabriel could want at a time like this. Perhaps maybe he'd tell her to march back and get something from Athena's office, just so he could be a prick. He tended to do that sometimes...

As if on cue, Gabriel's familiar sharp face appeared behind the shoulders of a pair of bowmen leading shots from the side ranks. Iris felt something go through her mind as he neared her, but she could not place it.

"Colonel Tauren."

Even her voice felt as though it had been hijacked from a robot, a child's doll.

"Gaiden, glad to see you." Gabriel panted, wiping sweat from his head.

He certainly didn't _look_ damn glad.

"Yes, sir?" she saluted, in the same voice.

"Water." Gabriel whispered hoarsely. For a moment, Iris thought he was thirsty, but he spoke once more. "It's water. They're made of water!"

"It took you that long to figure it out?" Iris said quietly, not realizing what she was saying or the repercussions it could have had.

Gabriel, for some reason, ignored her comment. "No- I know that, but it's all so simple!" Quickly, the priest brushed more sweat from his forehead. "They're just water- nothing more than molecules of hydrogen and oxygen alchemically bonded to some rudimentary form of intelligence. If we could just dissociate all of them at once- then-"

"How do we dissociate them, then?" Iris asked tritely. She had long since given up showing any emotion.

"Energy!" Gabriel snapped. "We need a wide-range lightning arte- something like that, and it'll put down every single one of these watery bastards permanently!"

Wondering if her superior had gone temporarily insane, Iris touched her forehead and was surprised to find sweat of her own beaded across it. "You ran all the way here to tell me that?"

"You're a lightning mage!" Gabriel snapped, stating the obvious. "Gather all the other wizards you can and teleport them to strategic locations surrounding the city perimeter- then have them cast all at once!" His eyes showed a bit of manic frenzy, and Iris found herself stepping back slightly.

Of course, she was unnerved more than anything by Gabriel's erratic behavior, but she also found herself strangely touched- out of all the lightning wizards fighting on Elaesia, Gabriel had thought of her?

She really wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I..." she began to say, her caustic demeanor thrown to the wind for now. "Colonel, I'm not sure if that'll-"

She expected many responses, but none of them involved Gabriel touching her shoulder.

"We don't have a choice, Gaiden." he whispered hollowly, and at that, Iris knew he was right. She could hide her own emotions as much as she wanted to, but she realized now it would not do anyone, least of all herself, any good.

"I'll leave at once." she nodded, and turned away.

"Wait." he said, and she turned back in surprise.

She couldn't remember the last time he'd asked her to wait for anything.

"Gaiden, I-" Gabriel began to say, running a hand along the back of his neck as a- could it possibly be?- faint blush crept up his cheeks. "I..."

_No, _Iris thought, her heart pounding. _Please, Gabriel, don't say it. Anything except those words. I can't bear to lose another._

"Gaiden...I...love y-"

Suddenly, a ferocious explosion tore through the air, blinding and deafening everyone in the general area, and Iris raised her eyes to see flames rising from Elaesia's center.

She felt her heart stop for a few moments as acrid smoke billowed through the air- it couldn't be. The city they had worked so hard, sacrificed so much for, had been breached. But how- for the Goddess' sake, _how could it have happened? _Who alone possessed so much power that he/she alone could have broken the defensive barrier in one single move?

As screams and shouts rose through the air- the dying sounds of innocents, those who had stayed in the city- Iris saw, through the smoke, the figure of a person riding upon a large bird, an ornate bow clutched in his grip, with long dark hair that fluttered behind him like a sail.

Turning around, Iris looked around for Gabriel- and then she saw him, lying face-down and motionless upon the ground. Dread entering her heart, she knelt and lifted his body upwards. He wasn't breathing; there was blood issuing from his ears, nose, and mouth. When she wiped the mud from his face, his eyes were blank and bloody.

She suddenly realized that the very moment the barrier had been breached and the mana equilibrium disrupted, he had instantly died of shock.

"No!" Iris sobbed as she cradled Gabriel's lifeless body and turned her tear-stained face to the sky, the silhouette of the man disappearing into the smoke. "_Goddess, no!"_

_...Perhaps, someday, you and the world will understand..._

Bera had signed Gault Isentryx's edict with its own blood, and there was no turning back.

* * *

_4 chapters left._

_Or three. One of the things I reflected on while writing this chapter in particular was wondering what to do with future chapters; after revising the plotline of the story somewhat, I questioned if it was possible for me to put the things I need to say in four chapters, and I wondered if three chapters would be more efficient, not to mention less painful for the audience._

_So, dear readers, I leave it up to you. At the end of your review, add a short sentence or two on whether you want Revolt to have 3 more chapters, or 4. If you go with 4 chapters, you'll get more reading material and the chapters will be shorter, but deadlines will be considerably pushed back. On the other hand, if you go for 3, you'll have a more efficient reading experience, and you'll have to wait less time for the story to be finished, but you may not be as satisfied with the overall ending with this method (because I may not have the space to explain things in 3 chapters as opposed to 4.) 3 or 4? You decide._

_Be sure to review nicely, pl0x._


	26. Ephemeral: Trailer of Revolt II

_Ephemeral_

* * *

_Every day, you see them as you walk, hating them for who they are. But have you ever wondered why? Because the shadows aren't always as they seem. (18 months post-Revolt)_

* * *

Author's Supa-Long Note: All right, people. Before you pull out your plasma assault rifles, thermonuclear rockets, and Jar-Jar Binks action figures, allow me to attempt to explain several things, such as _What the hell is this doing here?, When is the next chapter of Revolt going to come out?, and What the flying fudge have you been doing lately?_

Like many authors in the depressing echelons of Fan Fiction Dot Net, I have been occupied by events in life lately. Actually, "occupied" isn't so much an appropriate adjective than "kicked repeatedly in the sack over and over again"- I'm really starting to feel tired. Not depressed, mind you- I haven't gotten the razor blades yet- but just tired. It's like writer's block, except the block has spread to my life itself. Life's block. Has a nice ring to it, I guess.

For example, I had a piano concert in Philadelphia (you know, the same one I ranted about on PPF). It was not a success, mostly because I had only practiced the song for about two hours, those being on the morning of the concert. That got me in a lot of hot pudding.

And then, there are the Chemistry SAT II's. For those of you who don't live on Earth, the SAT's are short-hand for "Scary-Ass Test", and believe me, they live up to their name. Although it's true that SAT scores are not the only factor in college admissions, it doesn't exactly help your case if you show up on Harvard's doorstep with a 200. Needless to say, I have been preparing hard for it (well, harder than I did for the fiasco in Philadelphia, anyway.)

There's also an upcoming research paper, Chinese Honor Society (yeah, I'm surprised, too), a summer camp, internships, and the like, but those are unimportant.

That being said, I did say I was writing Chapter 26 of Revolt. Unfortunately, I think the last time I wrote something for that was three weeks ago, and I think that was only to add a couple of periods I forgot. It's not that I have a lack of ideas, but I'm suffering from an inability to correctly express said ideas in words. Hard to explain to non-writers, but suffice it to say writing's been tough lately.

I tried to work on some other projects, such as the new Devil Children short that my poll has been promising for quite some time, but my nerves were crap, and I ended up writing something resembling a porno flick than a decent oneshot. I then attempted to write the second chapter of Nex Lucis and failed miserably, shutting down after two pages (which is mostly just Asch cursing, to be honest). I even tried actually finishing Way One Moves Time. You can guess how that turned out.

This is going to be a little difficult to explain, much less understand, but writing isn't a controlled thing for me, and I doubt it is for many people. As much as I want to believe otherwise, I don't just wake up one morning and say, "Oh, I'd like to write Chapter 26 of Revolt where Zeraion nearly gets eaten by a big-ass fish" out of the blue. Trying to write without inspiration is like trying to play a song you haven't practiced. You can do it, to some extent, but it's a very painful and drawn-out experience, and ultimately ends up disappointing everyone involved.

So instead of trying to push out crap against my will (nice connotations there), I wrote what I felt like writing- and this was the result.

Yes, it has been confirmed. There will be a sequel to Revolt.

There will be those that will get angry with me for getting ahead of myself. In the past, I've shown my remarkable work ethic through projects that I've started but haven't finished. Way One Moves Time, for example. Nex Lucis. Even Revolt, after over a year, still isn't finished. And now, on top of all this, I decide to pile Revolt 2 onto my workload?

My response is, screw it. As an author, I feel that what you don't write is almost as important what you do write- if not as important, or perhaps more. You can write hundreds, thousands of workable plot ideas, but you have to decide which one will suit everyone the best in the end. Or more accurately, you have to decide which 999 ideas you're going to junk for no reason other than space constraints.

Revolt 2 was originally going to be one of those 999 ideas. It was lucrative, to be sure- with 70,000+ hits on Revolt and counting, there'd be no problem for a fanbase. And I already had the characters, and a semi-formulated plot line, so it wouldn't be a total shot in the dark. But the whole reason it got the red light was there would be no effing time to write it. Let's face it- high school can really take its toll on you, and I already have personal experience of what can happen when personal life collides with schoolwork. I have no desire of experiencing it again.

Of course, fate is fickle. In the end, I, in my infinitely negative wisdom, decided to write a trailer for Revolt 2, without even having finished Revolt. One question immediately jumps to mind: _Why the Zarking hell would you ever do something like that?_

The answer: Because I can, and because I want to.

The trailer itself is actually somewhat confusing in terms of time, so there's a few things I need to clear up here.

This story begins about 18 months after the last chapter of Revolt; in other words, after everything is said and done, after the dust has settled and everything that needs to occur has occurred. Needless to say, I made very little reference to the end of Revolt when writing this trailer, to minimize the risk of spoiler. Is there a happy ending, a sad ending, or a bittersweet ending? Who lives, and who dies? I can assure you that none of those questions are answered in this trailer. You can guess, of course, but only time (a hell of a lot of it, unfortunately) will tell.

To further muddy the waters, this trailer takes place a year and a half after the last chapter of Revolt. However, the first chapter of Revolt 2 (when it comes out) will take place approximately _20 years _after the last chapter of Revolt. I know this makes absolutely no sense, but this is one of those things which you have to trust me on. And yes, to answer the inevitable question: Some of the characters in Revolt 2 _will _be descendants of characters in Revolt. However, which characters those are will not be disclosed until Revolt 2 is actually released. (Look at the bright side: at least you know that at least one of the characters in Revolt is going to live. Who knows, maybe you can set up a Revolt betting pool with your friends for fun if you're truly bored.)

Also, there are a couple of scant references to 2Moons (a 3D MMORPG, in other words totally unlike Maple) in this trailer. These references will become blatant ripoffs when Revolt 2 is released, but you know, I'll deal with that when that becomes an issue.

Lastly, this trailer is _incomplete._ Although it is 25 pages (a staggeringly large amount of space for a trailer, to be honest), it was supposed to be longer, about 40 pages. One of the reasons this did not happen was laziness and slight writer's block on my part, but also due to spoiler issues- I felt that finishing the trailer in its entirety as I had originally planned would reveal too much, and besides, finishing it would probably have delayed it another week or two (remember, life gets in the way.) So, in a way, you're lucky to be reading this now, instead of next month.

There is a chance I will update this trailer to include the other scenes, if I decide they aren't too much of a spoiler (and if I ever get to write them), but knowing my history of writing promises, consider this highly unlikely in advance.

(Side note: In the original draft of this trailer, there was a scene in which the main (female) character is supposed to be nude. This scene, due to time constraints, was never written. Based on your point of view, you may either be sighing in relief or writing me death threats, or perhaps both. However, be warned that if I ever do finish this trailer, that scene will be included, as it is an important one. Just thought you ought to know.)

So, with this horribly long author's note in mind, I invite you to sit back and enjoy this trailer for _Revolt of the Archers 2: Final Apocalypse_.

(P.S: For those of you who skipped reading this author's note, there's a hidden plot spoiler in Revolt which you missed. Haha.)

* * *

The sun was level with the horizon when it finally happened.

Isako Sakagami found it hard to believe that she had been standing in the dank basement of Kerning's ubiquitous fusion bar with shot nerves and jelly legs a mere hour ago. She could have sworn it was an entire year since she'd crossed into the enclave. Maybe two.

_Did it really matter anymore?_, she asked herself, as the silent Dark Lord pressed his palm against her forehead from his perch on the ceiling and sealed a fragment of the Bandits' legacy into her veins.

"Thank you so much." she uttered quickly, the weak sensation returning to her legs as she executed a quick bow. Even the lights, dim as they were, threw spots across her eyes.

The thief master gazed down at her with what could have passed for amusement; or perhaps it was contempt. Isako didn't know and didn't bother to care. "You're welcome."

She closed her eyes and swallowed, her palms and heels stained with iron rust as she found herself breathing the (comparatively) fresh air of Kerning City's streets.

Being a bandit felt _damn _good.

She looked no different, talked no different, and acted no different from an hour ago. Yet here she was, standing in the middle of the square with a sense of pride to her name that would have made Zeraion Phoenix himself blush crimson. Countless eternities had passed since she had left her house on Maple Island, fought those damned orange mushrooms a hundred too many times, and achieved her dream of becoming a rogue of Kerning.

Stories of the great heroes- Phoenix, Seles, Dracon, Wolfen, and the rest- had been told to Bera's children since the end of the last Ancient War mere months ago, had inspired many to seek their fortune in the world. Born and raised during the war, sheltered from the death and destruction in her home of Maple Island, Isako had only heard tales of the legendary fighters, just a few years older than she herself was.

Isako was determined to become one of them.

She could look forward instead of backwards, hold her head high and march into the unhindered beyond with the rest of the world behind her.

Isako stared down at herself and dimly noted the less-than perfect state of her garments. Her shirt and skirt were crossed with inevitable rips and holes. Her shoes looked as if someone had given them a burial recently. And her Reef Claw was chipped and stained with dried blood and what seemed to be the remains of a horned mushroom's eyeball.

The clothes store felt cool, almost reassuring. Isako dabbed at her lips with her tongue as she scrutinized the rainbow-like shelves.

"I'll take that, and that...and oh yes, that." she finished, pointing to a sleek jacket, pair of leggings, and tight crimson boots that shouted nothing less than _take me, take me, damn it._

The clerk wordlessly gathered the chosen items and laid them on the counter. "Any accessories you might be looking for?"

"Yes." Isako decided, pointing determinedly to a gleaming pair of lightning-shaped ear studs.

A bright ring as the drawer of the cash register sprung open. "87,200 mesos."

Isako withdrew her pink-lined wallet and yanked at a random stack of bills, determinedly slapping the slightly musty papers upon the counter like a royal flush. Before another word could be uttered, she gathered the clothing into her arms and sped out.

Who gave a care in the world if she no longer had a penny to her name? Isako spun out of the shop with wings on her newly rose-jacketed feet. She was thirteen, beautiful, invincible, her dark, sleek hair spinning about her in a storm of its own.

It took her some time to realize that the sky was dark, a silvery glare thrown across the stone walkways from the moon above.

Sunsets never last long in Kerning City.

--

Isako effortlessly carved her way through the lines of fire-spitting boars as waves of heat rose slowly above the arid plateaus of Perion.

She stepped and thrust with practiced airs, her movements graceful and deadly at once. The blade of her gold-handled dagger seemed to gleam with delight as it killed, matching the mood of its owner. Wave after wave of snorting, grunting animal threw itself at her to be cut down by brilliant steel.

If there was anything better in the world, she couldn't care to name it.

Pausing for a moment, Isako leaned herself against the skeleton of a sun-charred tree and downed a mana potion from her store. Her lips came out briefly stained with blue as she flung the bottle away; there was a distinct squeal as it hit a stray monster.

It was almost perfect, she knew...except for one thing.

And that thing happened to be moving towards her, a large lance in its grip.

Isako watched in dismay as the silver-plated spearman casually strolled through the Burnt Lands as though the signed deed of Perion itself rested in his pocket. Even with his plate armor, he was clearly free of sweat; he did not bother to chase down the wild boars that milled around him. Those foolish enough to take a chance leap at him found themselves rewarded with six inches of crimson-tinted steel in their gut.

There was something about him that Isako might once have thought handsome, but those thoughts disappeared from her bandana-draped head as he strolled past her without a second thought.

Trying and somewhat failing to return his look of apathy, Isako shielded her eyes from the sun as the spearman positioned himself in a particularly bright and dry section of the plateau. The boars seemed to be even greater in number in this location, and the female bandit couldn't help a sense of confusion- if he wasn't even going to bother hunting them, why was he going to stand under the sun, with all that armor, for no good reason?

The answer made itself apparent all too soon when he raised his hand.

Isako felt a cold sensation creep across her back, as though someone had trickled ice water down her spine.

Time seemed to slow as she stared, her eyes gradually adjusting to the light...and even as that happened, she saw the boars seem to slow as well. Their stubby legs continued to move across the ground at the same rate of speed, and yet they were definitely moving slower...and slower...and then they were not moving at all.

Then the lance struck.

It slashed through the air out of nowhere and carved sudden arcs through the dusty air, bringing down the fiery beasts faster than Isako could count. Her eyes widened in mingled surprise, shock, and confusion, trying to absorb the enormity of it all. He was a spearman- spearmen weren't supposed to cast magic, let alone a time-stopping spell. And yet this...it was happening before her very eyes, a display of forbidden beauty in itself.

This went on for some time before Isako finally found the time to turn her gaze away- but what met her eyes next was stranger still.

The Burnt Lands were...empty.

Confusion stirring her mind, Isako whirled around and saw the spearman surrounded by at least two dozen of the boars, surrounding him until all but his spear were barely visible. They milled around him endlessly, unable to move outside their designated area...almost as if trapped in a magnetic field, locked into orbit.

A sudden chill that had nothing to do with weather, wind, or magic rested itself upon her shoulders.

It was no longer hunting, training, fighting to survive.

It was slaughter.

She tried to speak, but the wind seemed to carry her voice straight from her throat, leaving nothing but empty air behind. Indeed, the spearman took no notice of the dumbstruck girl standing off to the side some distance from him. His eyes rested only on his prey alone.

Isako was at a loss what to do, until he arrived.

She was aware of a second presence behind her, but was unable to completely process the information through her mind before she heard the distinct sound of a throat clearing. Her pulse rising, she whirled around, and saw the spearman abruptly face forward as well. In an instant, the remaining boars broke free of the enchantment placed over them, fleeing as fast as their legs would allow them.

The newcomer had disheveled sandy brown hair, hanging in thin, uneven bangs from his head. His eyes were a deadset icy blue, power radiating within the pupils. His mouth was set in a thin line. An orange robe was draped over his shoulders, its dark hem trailing the soft wind. He carried a tall staff in his hand, the glowing crystalline head surrounded by a lattice of silvered steel.

Both Isako and the spearman exchanged confused, almost frightened glances before the wizard stepped forward.

There were no words spoken as he held his staff out. With a slow, deliberate air, as both remained deathly silent, the staff gradually lowered itself until the head was pointed at the spearman; the jewel seemed to give off a kind of icy heat.

The wizard mouthed something that Isako could not hear, his thin lips refusing to show mirth. Slightly taken back, the spearman was about to reply, but fell silent in the face of the icy pupils and the bleakly glimmering staff. With an annoyed humph, the spearman finally turned on his heel and marched stoically forward, bypassing the magician. He threw Isako a sideways glance before she lost him in the dusty air.

The magician stared at where the spearman had been for a moment before collecting himself. He seemed to notice Isako for the first time; a curious, quivering teenage girl, her dust-streaked hair shining dark in the light. "Sorry about that."

It took the bandit a moment for her to find her voice. "What are you apologizing for?"

"That guy." the wizard said, jabbing a finger in the direction the spearman had left. "He's not supposed to be here, especially at a time like this..." His face darkened before it returned to normal. "But never mind him. What are you doing in a place like this?"

"I was, well, hunting." Isako replied, gauging the teenage boy that stood before her. He was older than her, but not by much, as his facial features could attest; for a magician, his arms had a fair bit of muscle.

She ignored the sensation that fluttered inside her ribcage as her eyes traveled over his tall figure.

"Hunting. That's nice." The wizard shook his head and ran a gloved hand through his sandy hair. There was something brash in his voice- brash, yet decidedly reassuring in its own way. He seemed confident, confident enough to face all the world's monsters single-handedly on any given day.

It was something Isako knew she could never quite be able to do herself.

"...your name?"

"Excuse me?" Isako mumbled, her mind slipping back to attention.

"For the third time, I was wondering if I might know your name." the wizard repeated; his once thin lips were now arranged in a gentle smile.

She couldn't help smiling herself, the nervous sensations in her heart quickly rising to full-fledged butterflies. "Isako Sakagami."

"Beautiful name." the wizard smiled, in the same tone. "You don't hear something like that every day."

Isako tried to ignore the rose blush that crept from her cheeks to the tips of her toes. "So, I gave you my name. What's yours?"

The wizard sighed briefly, giving a half-smile. "My name's Velm Collet, though I'd prefer it if you called me Velm...Isako."

"Velm." Isako let the wizard roll off her tongue. Even his name sounded rugged, fearless in its own way.

In that moment, that frame of time beneath the blazing Perion sun in the middle of the dusty landscape, she knew he was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

The sound of squealing brought her out of her reverie, and she blinked to see a growing pile of frozen boar corpses at Velm's feet. He twirled the staff through the air with a satisfied motion, each movement releasing another jet of ice that hit its target flawlessly.

There was something almost otherworldly in him, she thought, as she watched him slash and stab through the air with a barrage of icy bolts. He looked overconfident almost to the point of ridicule, but it was something Isako was prepared to accept.

"Will I see you again?" she asked quickly, before she could stop herself.

Velm paused to eye her with a slightly surprised expression- which quickly faded into a serene look. "Maybe." He drew a scrap of paper from the inside of his robes and scribbled a few lines onto the thin parchment. Gingerly taking it, Isako read in neat, slightly convoluted script an address in Orbis.

"You live in Ossyria?" she asked, almost wistfully.

Velm shrugged. "The commute does get on my nerves sometimes, I'll admit, but it's worth it being close to your friends."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, friends- you know, guildmates, buddies, those kinds of bastards." Velm shrugged a second time and exhaled. There was almost a trace of sarcasm scrawled across his face. "Just a barrel of laughs, that's all it is."

"What do you do in Victoria, anyway?" Isako asked out of curiosity. "Surely you don't need to go all the way across a continent just to make a living?"

"I usually don't," Velm said, lowering his staff, "but sometimes the guild thinks it's funny to get me the hell out of their way for a day or two." The smile was still plastered across his face, but Isako noted it was somewhat forced. "Their idea of a joke, I suppose."

"I can't imagine why they'd want to do that." Isako said quietly, her mind slipping away once more.

Velm's eyes, normally ice-blue, twinkled with amusement. "You're quite the person, Isako."

She blushed again, trying not to let him see. "How long are you staying in Victoria Island?"

"A few days." Velm said off-handedly. "But if you want to, you could come with me and visit my place in Orbis. Have a house party, even, if you want."

_Oh, goddess, yes. _"I'll think about it."

"Then think away." Velm's grin relaxed as the sun continued to beat down on both of them.

Without replying, Isako turned away, her cheeks red from heat and something else she didn't want to think about. She mumbled a hurried excuse that quickly died in the wind, and cast Haste on herself as she hurried home for the day.

As his eyes watched the retreating girl, Velm Collet's smile did not fade.

--

The free market of Bera never ceased to surprise or shock those who wandered into its grasp.

It seemed a living, breathing entity of its own, composed of hundreds, if not thousands, of excited people either trying to buy or sell their goods for the pure sake of profit. Everywhere one looked, there was always something- a ponytailed blonde swordsman comparing crystals to an auburn-haired shopkeeper with a dark cloak in one corner, a blue-haired mage haggling for a brand-new staff with a leery-eyed assassin. At any given moment, millions, even billions, of mesos were being earned and lost in the span of a second.

Isako tried not to think about it as she wandered through the crowds, a satchel of ores slung over her shoulder.

It amazed her to think how much material one could accumulate simply by standing in the middle of Perion plains and slashing at boars for a few days. Bronze and steel jangled heavy against her back as she walked, coupled with the occasional grind of an amethyst or diamond. She knew not how many mesos her treasure was worth, but she hoped it would be enough to buy herself a decent weapon and meal, and perhaps have enough left over to pay her rent.

Unfortunately, as any semi-experienced traveler will tell you, naivete is not a desirable thing to possess in the Free Market.

Isako weaved through the tangles of people clustered at the gates, the shouts of barter and trade still aching in her ears. She barely caught glimpses of people with jewel-studded clothing and weapons she'd never seen before in her life before she continued on. In a sphere where artifacts from the deepest dungeons of Zakum could be traded at the drop of a hat, virtually no one paid attention to the girl with a bag of stray ores over her shoulder.

"Excuse me?" Isako muttered feebly as ten people passed by her without even throwing her so much as a sideways glance.

Maybe if she started stripping, it would get their attention...

She put the uncharacteristic thought out of her mind and retreated to a less hectic section of the marketplace, positioning herself under the shade of a well-grown tree. Leaves fluttered above her head; the ground was already covered with fallen flower petals. Though there were still plenty of people, the manic rush that had been present had now disappeared. There was still action, true, but it was decidedly less... psychotic?- Isako couldn't quite describe it.

Quietly, she sat under the shade of the tree and opened her bag of ores, counting them if only to ease her boredom. They numbered around a hundred in total, weighing considerably in her lap. She was no economist, but she estimated they'd fetch a hundred thousand at least. Hopefully more.

"That's quite a collection you've got there."

Isako jumped a little, the bag shaking against her lap. Her eyes gazed upwards to see a nondescript bowman, his oaken hair barely trailing his shoulders. A steel-wire bow rested comfortably in his quiver; Isako guessed he was a hunter. He wasn't particularly handsome, but he wasn't dreadful-looking either; strictly speaking, he looked quite ordinary. For all she knew, she could have passed him at least fifty times so far without even knowing it.

"Yeah, I suppose." she replied, pitifully trying to break the ice.

"I assume by the way you're counting them that they're for sale." the hunter continued, not taking his eyes off Isako's lap.

"Be my guest." Isako muttered, opening the bag. Carefully, the hunter sifted his fingers through its contents, occasionally pausing to hold one of the ores up with an appraising look. Isako watched as he went through the bag one by one, gazing into each crystal, each vein of metal.

There was something strangely cold in his eyes.

"They're not bad." his voice said, bringing Isako abruptly out of her reverie. "Some of them could use a little work, sure, but it's nothing a little polishing can't fix." He put on a smile, but Isako could tell it was slightly fake. It almost resembled Velm's.

"Don't have any cash on me right now, but..." The hunter set a bag of his own on the ground and began rummaging through it. Isako could catch glimpses of bright luster and sheen as he went through its contents; Goddess only knew what was in there.

"Ah, here." There was a sudden glare in Isako's eye, and she blinked as the outline of a large, elongated weapon entered her view. "I found this at Zombie Lupins one day, the little buggers."

Isako rubbed at her eyes and found herself staring at a shining brand-new Shinkita.

"It isn't scrolled," the hunter continued, holding the large dual-bladed knife almost tantalizingly in front of her, "but it's pretty damn good in my opinion. I don't have any use for it anyway, and it's perfect for your level." His eyes seemed magnified tenfold in the sunlight. "I'll trade you this for the whole bag."

Isako's heart slowed nearly to a complete stop before it started beating like a machine gun. Despite her inexperience, she knew well enough to know that Shinkitas didn't exactly fall from the sky- and it wasn't like she had any use for the ores. A decent one would probably cost her two, three times as much as the ores were actually worth. At least.

"So, how about it?" The hunter's smile was still there, although Isako was beyond trying to guess whether it was genuine or not anymore.

"I'll take it." There was a pregnant pause in the air, and then Isako felt the bag of ores leave her lap as the hunter hoisted it over his own shoulder. With a slight flourish, he dropped the gleaming dagger onto the grass at her feet.

He took about a dozen steps forward, then turned around. "Enjoy." he called out, before disappearing into the crowd.

Isako felt strangely empty after he'd gone. It was her first trade, and should have been a phenomenal success in her mind. Yet- somehow, something just wasn't right. Perhaps it was just her own sun-addled mind overreacting, but...

She picked up the Shinkita, balancing it in her grip. It felt very light, its weight defying its size.

Standing up and stretching her sore knees, Isako turned around and aimed a practice slash at the bark of the tree.

There was an audible crack as the blade made contact with the wood, and Isako opened her eyes to find the blade of the Shinkita embedded deeply in the trunk- and detached from the hilt.

Her eyes widening in disbelieving shock, Isako watched as the Shinkita suddenly crumbled in her grip. What looked like well-forged brass and steel quickly crumbled in her hand to cheap slag and plastic. The blade fell off from the hilt like a broken toy and landed in the grass; the hilt itself now looked as though a stone golem had stepped on it.

It took Isako a second to realize what had happened, and another ten to believe it.

"No." Isako whispered in a shocked tremor as what remained of the hilt fell from her hand into the grass. She didn't know whether she was more sad or angry, and whether her feelings were directed at the swindler or herself.

She should have known better- she was almost level 50, for the Goddess' sake. She could kill any number of monsters with a single whisper and a motion of her arms, and yet here she was, helpless. She had just lost anywhere from 100,000 to 150,000 mesos' worth of ores in a single minute.

This was exactly the sort of thing that you figured always happened to someone else- but having it actually happen to you was worlds apart, unthinkable. How could she have been so _stupid?_

Isako kicked at the grass, throwing clods of dirt and fragments of plastic through the air.

The angst inside her spilled over into her anger, and she clenched her fists. Oh, how she would love to meet that hunter once more and rip him open like a goddamn pillow- but thinking about it would not do her any good. He was gone, out of her life now. She had about as much hope of finding him in the Victorian Free Market as a needle in all the haystacks of the world.

Slowly, as seconds ticked off to minutes, her feelings subsided- though they weren't gone. Not by a long shot. The pain still remained, the sadness still remained, and the anger still remained, coalescing into a large lump of- she couldn't describe it. She only knew she wanted to be rid of it, but that would not happen.

She gradually became aware of something wet on her fingertips. Her fists had clenched to the point that her nails had dug into her palm, leaving crimson streaks on her hands.

No one noticed the girl with the bleeding palms leave the Free Market, her face shadowed with the pain of lost innocence.

--

"Savage Blow!"

The shout felt good to Isako, even though it was probably the hundredth time she'd screamed it and her throat was beginning to feel like sandpaper. Her wrist tore through the air with the fury of lightning, and another boar lay dead at her feet in a grotesque heap.

Breathing the metallic, sanguine scent, Isako wiped her sweaty forehead and left a streak of red across her temple. Even marching to the Dangerous Valley and killing everything within sight hadn't been enough to alleviate the pain, but it had numbed her to the point where she no longer thought about it.

Just because you don't think about something, however, doesn't mean it isn't there.

Spinning the gold-handled dagger in her hand, Isako glared upwards at the heavy ledges above her head. She knew Copper Drakes spawned there; she also knew that one of the last things she'd always wanted to see was a Copper Drake. The draconic beasts of the Dangerous Valley weren't nearly as dangerous as ancient legends would have you believe, but they were more than enough to inflict severe injury to anyone that got on the wrong side of them. On any other day, Isako would have immediately turned around and ran at top speed in the opposite direction if she'd met one.

Today, however, wasn't any other day.

Seizing ahold of the heavy rope that served as the only means of transport between the ledges, Isako grit her teeth as she worked herself up slowly. Tensile strength had never been one of her strong points as a bandit, and her relative lack of muscle made itself apparent when she felt herself beginning to ache.

She would have gladly exchanged physical ache for the burning sensation that throbbed in the pit of her stomach.

It seemed like an hour had passed by the time Isako pulled herself up to the ledge. Her hands were slightly sore, the result of friction from the rope. The sensation in her arms and legs reminded her of a marionette; wooden, sore, and dancing upon a string.

Isako shook her head and drew her knife, coldly staring down the nearest drake that had turned its attention to her. Its little beady eyes were fixated half-curiously, half-hungrily on her, its fangs bared. It had seen countless adventurers like this in the past, young, naive wanderers who thought themselves more than competent to handle the beasts that lurked in the Dangerous Valley. They were, of course, soon to receive a very painful reality check- paid in full.

Drawing the thin spike of steel from her waist, barely a third of a foot long, Isako almost wanted to stab herself and see what it would feel like. Surely it couldn't be any worse than what she was feeling right now, could it?

The drake's steps grew louder and louder as it lumbered towards her.

Isako closed her eyes and tried not to bite down on her tongue. "Haste."

The familiar sensation of air entwining itself around her feet became apparent, and she leaped high into the air; high enough to evade the monster's gaze for a second. Blinking confusedly, it wondered where exactly the human had gone off to- and that was the last thing it thought before three inches of steel lodged itself in its spinal cord.

There was a thud as the drake toppled, and Isako withdrew her knife. It was slick with dark crimson, dribbling onto the dusty ground below.

She looked upwards and saw the hunter from the Free Market on the ledge above her. .

He was firing a stream of explosive arrows at the nearest group of monsters, the sound of bombs going off ringing in Isako's mind. The scent of burning flesh hung strongly in the bandit's nose.

As if on cue, the hunter suddenly shifted his attention, and Isako found herself looking at her object of hatred face-to-face once more. She was struck at his expression; there was no surprise, no shock. Just the same placid everyday smile he'd worn when he first saw her, almost as if he were seeing an old friend.

He mouthed something silently, and Isako felt her pulse rise as she saw the nearest drake suddenly glow with a halo of blue light.

She registered this strange sight for a split second before the drake suddenly flew towards her with unnatural speed and smashed point-blank into her.

--

At first, there was warmth.

Pain, yes, but warmth as well. They seemed to exist apart from one another, Isako thought; the former making itself apparent throughout her body while the latter nestled into the deepest recesses of her mind; hidden, but still there.

The warmth increased, and Isako found the strength to open her eyes.

She saw Velm Collet gazing away from her as his fingers caressed the side of her neck.

Stunned at her current position and not knowing how she had gotten into it, Isako remained still as she tried to piece together her memories- a difficult task, considering every fiber of her body felt as though it had been smashed with a hammer. When she swallowed, there was a foul, musky taste that lingered in her throat. She supposed it was blood.

She'd been in Perion. She knew that much. The Dangerous Valley, perhaps? Yes, that made sense. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do anyway.

Velm continued to gaze off to the side as Isako looked upwards, and she realized he was staring through a window, at what she could not say. Once or twice his pupils might have flickered towards her, though if he had seen she was awake, he paid it no mind.

As her eyesight slowly filtered back into focus, Isako was better able to take stock of her surroundings. There was a dim lamp above, bright enough to illuminate the area but gentle on her eyes. A cushion was under her body and head; she must be in a bed.

She was obviously in a house, but was this just a stray dwelling...or Velm's house? No, that was unlikely. He had mentioned he lived in Orbis, and it would be too much of a hassle to drag her across continents for recuperation. Most likely they had just stopped at some small inn to rest.

A sudden uncomfortable thought struck her and she realized she was still in her original clothes, if a bit torn. Her pulse slowly returned to normal as she settled back into the cushion. True, she liked Velm, and she doubted he was the kind of person who would take advantage of someone like that. But then again, Isako had been raised being taught that all men were after only one thing.

"You're awake."

Isako nearly bit her tongue in shock before she recognized Velm's voice. It was gentle, soft, unassuming.

She'd never heard him use that tone before.

"For a moment there, I was worried." Velm's mouth was curved and it took Isako a moment to realize he was smiling. "Getting hit by a flying drake isn't exactly good for one's health, you know."

Isako laughed, despite herself. So she had been in Perion. "Where am I now?"

"Goodness no, don't tell me you've got amnesia already." Velm said in a mock tone before he cleared his throat. "We're in a house on the outskirts of Perion. The owners were kind, really, said we could borrow the room for as long as we wanted. I think they were under the impression that I had kidnapped you fresh from Kerning's depths."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Isako muttered, and Velm smiled, taking amused chagrin at the remark.

"Anyway," the wizard continued, finally breaking the silence, "place is all yours. Make yourself at home if you want. There's water and some snacks on the table if you're hungry."

Isako sat up, feeling pain throb dully up her spine as she did so. It was a moment before her vision came back into focus again. Her eyes flitted over the table for a moment before they turned to Velm.

"Why'd you save me?"

The ice wizard blinked, nonplussed for a moment, before he ran a hand through his sandy hair. "I'm a guy. That's what guys do- save girls in trouble. Must be a genetic defect or something."

"Really?" Isako murmured quietly, running the tip of her tongue along her lips.

Velm didn't answer, but his ice-blue eyes twinkled at her. "Rest up. You're still pretty weak, you know."

"Nnh." Isako stretched out her sore arms and poured herself a cup of water, accidentally overfilling it. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about why the drakes were flying around in the first place, would you?"

For a moment, a shadow passed over Velm's eyes. Then his face quickly returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. "Yeah."

"What do you mean by that?" Isako asked curiously.

Velm turned towards her. He wasn't smiling any longer.

"I think," he said, slowly, "that you've made some enemies in bad places, Isako."

"How?" Isako asked rhetorically, setting down the now-empty cup with a soft clink. "What have I ever done?"

"That's what I should be asking you." Velm's eyes seemed to sharpen in the dim light. "What _have _you done?"

"Nothing." Isako muttered, somewhat indignantly. The back of her neck was aching and she stretched her arm behind her head to rub it. "It was that goddamn hunter in the Free Market. That bastard..." Her voice boiled as she recalled the memory. "He had the nerve to cheat me- and when I see him by accident, he sends a drake flying right at my ass!"

"Hm." Velm looked thoughtful as he turned his gaze to the window once more.

"It's not that I don't sympathize with you," he finally said, after he'd turned back to her, "but those guys are ruthless. You've got to know that. They can steal your money, stab you in the back, and burn down your house without even breaking a physical or moral sweat. It sucks, but that's how the world turns sometimes."

"You know who he is?" Isako's anger seemed to subside briefly into curiosity. "And what do you mean 'those guys'? You mean it's not just some isolated-"

She noticed Velm's face darken once more and realized she'd spoken too much.

"I'm sorry." she murmured, turning away from the sandy-haired wizard. "I..."

"Never mind." Velm said, shaking his head. "Yes, I do know them to some extent, and I can't say I'm too fond of them either." He paused to swallow a slightly soggy biscuit on the table before continuing. "They work as a group, pretty much. Their one goal is to obtain wealth, fame, power- by any means necessary. Scams, cheating, and sometimes just flat-out evil stuff."

Velm traced a line on the table with his finger. "Do you know what 'teching' means?"

"No." Isako truthfully answered.

"It's a term that's gotten into vogue recently." Velm said with a resigned shrug. "In the olden days, they used to refer to it as "necromancy" or "dark magic", but there's nothing particularly dark about it. It's just the way those spells are used that makes them so evil."

There was an audible pause before he continued.

"You know there's a skill called Monster Magnet that attracts monsters to you, so you can kill them faster. As of now it's restricted to the 4th-job advancement, practically unheard of in this day and age- but they've figured out a way to cast it at lower levels. And it doesn't just attract monsters anymore." There was an ominous look written across his face. "They can use it on items, pick them up before anyone gets to them. They can use it on themselves, lets them move and fly at supersonic speeds. And yes," Velm finished, answering Isako's unspoken question, "they can use it to send monsters flying into people they don't like."

Isako's mind felt numb, both from her previous injuries and what Velm was telling her now. The mere fact that such a power existed- that someone could manipulate magic like this, use it to their sheer advantage- sent chills up her spine. She gazed at Velm's foreboding expression and knew that such power could be deadly in the wrong hands.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked, after a drawn silence.

Behind the disheveled hair, she could see Velm's ice-blue eyes meet hers.

"Because it's something you need to know..." he said, quietly, "and because I care about you."

That was the last thing Isako heard before she felt a boy kiss her for the first time in her life.

--

"You've changed, Isako-nee-chan."

Isako had to bite back an exasperated smile as she leaned back in her chair. "You haven't, Shinya-kun."

It had seemed ages since she'd last seen her brother, though she knew in truth it had been six years. In her mind, she didn't know which was longer.

Shinya Sakagami broke the silence by tapping his steel-jacketed knuckles against the table. "Fancy seeing you here, of all places."

"Yeah, I guess." Isako muttered, as the waitress poured tea for the both of them. The steamy scent of the flowery beverage hung in the air for a moment before Isako raised the cup to her lips and took a sip.

She ended up burning her tongue.

"You were never really any good at waiting." Shinya observed bluntly as Isako fanned her mouth with the back of her hand while hissing obscenities under her breath.

"Shut up." Isako growled, though playfully.

After all, this was the only time since setting foot on Victoria Island so far that she'd felt so...carefree.

"I take it you've just been through the second job advancement, then?" she asked.

"Yep." Shinya smoothed the left sleeve of his fighter's shirt with a wave of his hand. "You've got to be kidding, though- that test is harder than hell. I'll never look at bananas the same way again," he added, ruefully, as he rested his elbow on the table. "Damn monkeys."

Isako laughed carelessly. "I could kill Lupins a dime a dozen in my sleep."

"Says you." Shinya replied sourly, running his eyes over his sister's Scorpio outfits and Deadly Fin.

"You'll get used to it eventually." Isako smiled, pinching her brother on the cheek.

"Don't do that in public, please." Shinya muttered. "What if people find out I'm related to you?"

"All right, fine, I won't." Isako said, folding her arms.

She kicked him under the table instead.

Before Shinya could retaliate, the waitress came once more, sliding two plates of unagi in front of both siblings.

"I don't know how you eat this stuff." Shinya muttered, despite taking a piece for himself with unwieldy chopsticks. "You don't know where this has been."

"It's an acquired taste." Isako retorted, swallowing her own eel without hesitation.

"I guess." he muttered, sliding it down his throat in turn. "Where do you live now?"

"Perion." Isako pushed her unagi around her plate. "There's good training fodder there."

"Leaving me to rot in Ellinia, I suppose." Shinya remarked, taking a sip of tea.

"It won't be all that bad." Isako smiled, though it was obviously a facade. "You might make friends with the fairies."

"Like hell I will. They don't exactly like the humans that much, you know."

"You'll live." Isako shrugged, finishing her unagi. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Not really." Shinya admitted, pushing his plate away.

"How do you expect to be a strong warrior if you don't eat?" Isako waggled a chopstick at her brother with mock severity.

"How do you expect to be a stealthy bandit if you keep eating?"

That earned him another kick under the table.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

Shinya finished his tea and set the cup down. "So, I guess I'll see you again sometime."

"Maybe." Isako nodded, swirling her own tea in her cup. Her reflection stared back at her through the haze of murky fluid.

Drawing himself to his full height, Shinya laid a handful of coins on the table. "I've got to go."

"You don't need to-" Isako began, but Shinya waved it aside. "Bye, Isako-nee-chan." he called from behind, his heavy footsteps echoing away as he left the restaurant.

Isako's eyes followed him for a moment before she glowered back into her tea, stirring the now-lukewarm liquid with her finger.

She couldn't explain why even though she had just eaten, she now felt strangely empty inside.

--

The wind whipped the tall girl's dark hair as she stood on the deck of the airship, watching the sky pass.

Isako watched the girl with a bit of contempt.

Her robes were a pristine blue, edged with gold. A wing-tipped wand rested in her grip; Isako supposed she was a mage of some sort, no doubt riding the ship to Orbis so she could take the fabled third job advancement. A book rested in the open palm of her other hand, its pages remaining still despite the wind.

She couldn't explain the feeling for the world. It almost bordered on resentment, though Isako knew there was no reason for it. She had never seen the girl before in her life, probably would never see her again. Yet somehow...the knowledge she was there, that she simply existed, seemed to irk her in some way.

She'd been feeling that a lot recently.

Trying to soothe herself, Isako tore her gaze away and stared over the deck into the sky below. A thick cloud cover lapped at the sides of the ship, obscuring her gaze completely so that all she saw was solid fluffy white. Briefly, she wondered what she would see if the clouds were gone; perhaps the indomitable green ground or the blue sea below.

She had never been afraid of heights, but it was still humbling to think about how high up she was, knowing with a single step she could tumble into oblivion.

Her eyes, dry as they were from the wind, did not blink.

"Are you all right?"

Looking upwards, Isako saw the magician girl gazing at her, the book still clenched in her hand. There was a slight smile on her face.

"Pardon me, but I think you look a little airsick." The girl smiled sheepishly as she rubbed her back with her free hand. "It takes a little getting used to, you know. Still, it's better than being cramped up in that stuffy hold, especially with all those perverts..." She threw a wry glare at the shut door of the cabin. "You've got to get some fresh air every once in a while."

Isako remained silent for a moment before she returned the smile.

"Thank you."

--

Light air and flowery scents quickly gave way to icy gusts and numbing cold as Isako descended the stone levels of Orbis Tower.

She narrowly lost her footing on a small patch of icy stone, swearing briefly before she righted herself. In Victoria Island, the climate had been temperate at worst, the most dangerous weather being the occasional heavy thunderstorm now and then.

Ossyria was so much different.

Shivering, Isako shimmied down a ragged rope that cut her hands almost as much as the wind did. In the back of her mind, she wondered just how Velm managed. True, he did say he lived in Orbis, but she supposed he often needed to travel to El Nath every once in a while. Running up and down this tower could take you the entire day. Teleportation scrolls existed, of course, but they were few and far between. Those that were available for sale had a price tag comparable to selling your own non-vital organs.

Her clothes certainly weren't helping, the bandit noted bitterly as she wrapped her sleeveless arms tighter around herself in a futile effort to stave off the cold.

She shook her head. This was it, her seventieth level. If she couldn't handle this, nothing in life would ever be easy for her.

Her feet touched cold ground and she rested herself for a moment, spitting on the ground as she stopped to catch her breath.

It rose in white wisps from her mouth, twirling briefly until the wind swallowed them up.

--

"What do you want?"

Still shivering slightly from the cold outside, Isako allowed her body to absorb the welcoming heat of the fireplace as she stared at the supposed instructor for the third-job advancement.

He could've been at least a little more polite for someone of his stature, she thought.

Though his face was shadowed by a dark hood, Isako could feel Arec's eyes dart up towards her face, scrutinizing her features. Not surprisingly, the instructor reminded Isako of her childhood mentor, the Dark Lord of Kerning City- taciturn, blunt, face hidden under a mask she could never see beyond.

"You certainly didn't need to climb all the way up this crag just to get a respite from the weather." Arec stated bluntly, echoing the obvious. Isako felt a stab of mingled annoyance as he lowered his eyes once more to the floor, as if he had never seen her.

"My...my name's Isako Sakagami." she coughed. She realized that breathing frigid air for the better part of an hour had hampered her ability to speak.

"That's a start." Arec replied, his arms folded as always. "Speak your purpose."

"I've...come for the third-job advancement test." Isako felt as if her voice had to physically climb out of her throat when she spoke- she suddenly felt very tired. "I'd like to become a Chief Bandit."

"So they all say." The instructor made no movement whatsoever, and Isako was tempted to wonder if he had suddenly died.

Out of nowhere, she felt something light seem to graze the edge of her cheek, as if a spring gust had blown across her face. Blinking, she instinctively put a finger to the side of her face to find it crimson.

There was a humphing noise, and Isako saw a thin, inch-long steel blade between the fingers of Arec's hand. A single, almost invisible droplet of blood dribbled down its length, leaving a trail of tiny ruby pearls in its wake.

Arec flicked the blade away and trained his shadowed gaze on Isako. "How do you expect to be a Chief Bandit with reflexes like that?"

His voice was almost reminiscent of Shinya's in the restaurant, though much more biting.

Isako said nothing, her heart throbbing manically against her ribcage. She imagined the instructor could hear her pulse.

"You aren't ready yet." he said, before turning away. That was it- nothing more.

"But-" Isako began, her fingers trembling, before realizing it was all for naught. She realized she might be talking to a statue for all it was worth.

Despite the fire crackling merrily in the hearth next to her, Isako could feel her breath freezing in her throat. She remained silent as she turned away, felt her leaden footsteps hit the floor like weights, pushed open the door and let the frigid winds of El Nath have their way with her.

She touched her finger to her cheek once more. The icy wind felt like nothing; only the wound Arec had left on her face seared into her mind. There was no physical pain, there had never been, but it still felt like he had jammed the blade right into her throat.

In a way, she would have preferred that. His subtlety was sharper than any knife.

She climbed down the icy crag, feeling her body sway on the rope.

--

"What would you like?" Hana asked her newest customer politely, her long scarf trailing the floor.

"Sixty mana elixirs, a hundred white potions, please." the tall, dark-haired girl replied tiredly. She sounded as if she'd caught a cold, which might not have been far from the truth. "And maybe a bowl of red bean soup, if you could."

Hana nodded and filled the girl's order, neatly filing out the requisite bottles of blue and white fluid from crates underneath the counter. After she'd done that, she ladled a bowl full of steaming soup from a nearby pot and set it on the counter next to the potions. "That'll be-"

"Here." the girl muttered, drawing a pocketbook from her jacket and sliding a formidable stack of bills across the wooden surface. Hana could tell by eyeing the stack that she had overpaid, but the girl seemed indifferent to this even when she pointed it out.

The girl- a bandit, Hana noticed for the first time, by her clothes and the large double-bladed dagger in her belt- shoved the bottles into her bag with faint clinks, then took the soup to a nearby table. Hana watched her in silence. She'd seen many faces since her days as proprietor of the item store, warriors, magicians, bowmen, and thieves, of varying builds, ages, and experiences. Very few of them ever said anything more to her than their order, and those that didn't merely made some needlessly obvious remarks about the weather before lapsing into silence.

Yet still she knew that each face hid a story behind its weathered eyes and closed mouth; an individual's story, with individual thoughts, joys, and pains. A story that could reveal so much more, if it was simply told.

Hana knew it wasn't her job to inquire, and she never asked.

Still, she couldn't take her eyes off the girl as the latter sipped her soup. She seemed to radiate a sense of depression, Hana knew; she looked rather defeated. That was not uncommon in itself, as Hana had seen the same unsmiling countenance and slumped posture countless times before in her time at the store. But it was the girl herself that surprised Hana the most- people with nothing left to live for were often old, clothed in once-great armor and wielding weapons coated blood from years, decades past. She was...so young.

Because of her diminutive size, wide eyes and relatively childish demeanor, people always made the mistake of thinking the proprietor of the item store was a young, naive teenager, or at the very least a woman in her early twenties. In reality, Hana was old- not ancient, as some of the elders of El Nath were, or even remotely close, but old enough to know enough.

She knew something was wrong, but was beyond trying to guess what it was.

Sighing, she busied herself with wiping the already-clean counter.

There was a sudden noise as the door opened, and Hana looked up to see another of her frequent customers striding through the door.

"Good afternoon, Collet." she said briskly as the sandy-haired wizard made his way to the counter.

"The best to you as well, Hana." Velm replied in the same tone, clapping his slightly frostbitten hands. "I'll take all the mana elixirs you have on you. Supply's getting low."

"It'll cost you." Hana smiled thinly, turning away to fetch a crate of the blue-filled vials.

Though her eyes had been riveted silently on him from the moment he'd walked in, Velm seemed to notice Isako for the first time.

"Isako." he nodded politely, before Hana somehow managed to single-handedly deliver an entire crateful of the potions to the counter. "Will that be all?"

"Sure." Velm withdrew a bag from his robe and shook about a third of its contents onto the counter before piling the coins up. Hana's eyes barely glanced over the coins, counting their value up in the frame of a second, before she swept them into the till.

"Thanks much." Velm nodded, taking ahold of the crate and standing it on the floor next to where Isako sat. Blithely, he took the seat next to her. "So, I haven't seen you in a while."

That was true, although Velm's definition of 'a while' rarely encompassed more than a few days.

Isako tried to smile, but somehow her mouth wouldn't allow it. Instead, her lips moved weakly before they remained still. "It's nice to see you."

"You sound cheerful today." Velm noted wryly, resting a hand on the table.

Isako finally raised her eyes level with the mage's and saw, for the first time, a vivid, dark burgundy scar slashed across Velm's left cheek, making her own wound seem invisible by comparison. Though Isako could see the scar had closed itself over time, she couldn't help feeling queasy inside as she turned her attention back to her soup. She almost expected the side of his face to fall open at any moment.

Velm caught her expression. "I see you've noticed my latest attempt at plastic surgery."

Isako didn't laugh. "By the goddess, what happened to you?!"

"Just an accident." Velm said airily, waving his hand in the same carefree manner he'd always done so before.

"An accident? Velm, your goddamn head's been ripped open!"

"I didn't think you'd notice the difference." Velm lightly replied, and Isako chewed on the tip of her tongue out of frustration. Though she would rather have died than admit it to herself, she felt close to Velm, close enough that she would tell him almost anything. If he couldn't be honest with her, especially about something as important as this...

"Enough about me." Velm said bluntly, and Isako felt his fingers briefly caress her cheek. "What happened to you?"

The weight of Isako's depression seemed to double. "I don't feel like talking about it."

"Neither do I." Velm responded, touching his own scar as though he'd read her thoughts a moment ago. "So now I suppose we're even."

Isako remained silent, staring down into her bowl. She'd lost her appetite completely.

"It was the instructor." she finally blurted out, pushing away the soup bowl in a sudden burst of emotion. "He...said I wasn't ready." The words hurt as she repeated them.

Velm raised an eyebrow, letting it disappear under the low, uneven bangs of his sandy hair. "And he cut you?"

"Well, it was the other way around, but..."

"The instructors are dicks." Velm interrupted abruptly, bringing Isako out of her reverie. "They always do stuff like that to first-timers, just to get themselves off." He laughed at his own remarks, resting his elbows on the table. "He probably just couldn't get laid last night."

Despite her mood, Isako couldn't help a chuckle at last. "You always seem to know what to say." she replied, half-jokingly.

"It's a curse." Velm rolled up his sleeves. "Are you going to finish that?"

She pushed the now barely lukewarm soup towards him. "Be my guest."

"Thanks. It's colder than a Yeti's ass out there."

"How would you know?"

It wasn't often that Isako had the rare opportunity to see Velm laugh.

--

The sunlight felt warm on Isako's back as she stepped through the gates of Orbis Park.

She disliked the feeling. Light meant visibility, and visibility meant vulnerability. Vulnerability, in turn, meant you were going to be digging your own grave in a moment if you weren't on your guard.

This thought hung in her mind for a second before she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Haste." As soon as she'd cast the arte, she leaped upwards into the air, the gleam of darkened steel briefly searing across the outline of the sun above.

There was a single, deadly slash.

Isako slid across the stone ground, the indomitable blade of her kandine clutched between her fingers as what had once been a Star Pixie crumbled into inert stardust onto the walkway below.

_Up yours, Arec._

Isako straightened, letting her tied bundle of pitch-black hair cascade to her waist. In a few short years, the overexcited teenager fresh on the streets of kerning had grown into a headstrong young woman perfectly capable of administering death in a blink.

In a way, though, it was as though she hadn't changed at all. True, she had grown physically- her height was taller, her strength and stamina increased, her stature and physique more defined (damn estrogen, she thought). Yet for all this change, no one would have lost the connection between the preteen thief and the Chief Bandit standing in the gardens of Orbis Park. To those who knew her, she was still the same in personality, if sometimes a little bit outspoken.

That was what Velm said, anyway.

Isako kept the cutter between her fingers as she climbed up a nearby ladder conquered by vines. Strangely enough, she found herself seeing less and less of the sandy-haired wizard since their last meeting in El Nath. In a reverse twist, Isako found that despite what she was telling herself, Velm was changing- and not necessarily for the better.

For one thing, they didn't seem to meet nearly as often, although that detail was fairly unnoticeable. What _was _was his behavior. He seemed to speak less (though that had been a blessing at first, she found herself missing his voice somehow) and when he did, it seemed to have lost its charm, its edge. He still made the occasional off-color remark, but those incidents were so sparse that they seemed to increase the tension they were meant to relieve.

She wondered if it was one of those phase things that people frequently talked about- that certainly made sense. Like her, Velm was growing up, and it wasn't too much of a stretch to say that he was merely experiencing some mood swings on his path to adulthood. That, at least, seemed the case with herself. She noticed she'd been getting more and more moody and irritable in general lately. She certainly cursed a lot more, that was for sure.

Becoming an adult was something Isako was not quite ready for, nor was it something she wanted to be.

She cleared her mind as she took in the landscape around her. For all her experience, she had never really visited Ossyria that much. Most of her time was spent in the reaches of Victoria, killing the drakes that had given the Dangerous Valley its name.

The monsters in Ossyria made the drakes look like tame puppies.

Isako tried not to think about it as she weaved through the small garden now overrun with small, multicolored kittens. The spawn of the Cellions, Grupins, and Lioners that inhabited the upper echelons of the Orbis Gardens, Isako found them almost cute, if a little annoying. A flick of her knife would surely kill them instantly, but she had no taste for it. Perhaps it was her feminine side acting up?She shook her head. There were bigger things to do.

Disappearing through one of the portals situated near the top of the garden, Isako reappeared in the midst of a much more unkempt grove. Rosebushes and vines lay overgrown across the paths, turning Orbis from a fairy city into its own ecosystem. Flowers that had once been planted for decoration now stretched across the entire area, covering whatever walkway or stone they pleased.

The Garden of Green hadn't gotten its name for nothing, that was sure.

Isako suddenly became aware of a faint chill on her body and realized the air temperature had dropped slightly. Then she remembered why she was here in the first place.

The objects of her attention ran about the garden with reckless, wild abandon, taking little notice of the human stranger that had suddenly appeared in their midst.

Isako lifted the short cutter-like knife almost delicately between her fingers, positioning it as if it were a scalpel rather than a dagger. These were not the tiny young Grupins that ran and nipped lightly at the heels of travelers passing through Orbis Garden- these were large, full-grown members of the species that would not hesitate to take one's limbs off at the slightest provocation. Great strength, skill, and courage were needed to survive in the area, let alone actively use it for training.

Isako felt a tiny shiver unrelated to the cold pass through her body before her resolve hardened. She was a Chief Bandit, damn it. She would do her kin in the city proud.

"Savage Blow."

In a movement that not even the sharpest of eyes could track, Isako weaved her wrist in a deceptively simple motion through the air. An instant series of slashes appeared upon the nearest Grupin's body; there was barely time for it to retaliate or even make a sound. It was very much dead before it hit the ground.

The battle had begun.

Tossing her previous uncertanties to the wind, Isako charged, minutely aware of the icy bolts that seared unnervingly close to her body. It was nothing, she thought- just like boars at Perion, except the element had shifted. Fire to ice- was there really any difference?

Well, she thought, as a beam of icy energy came close to taking off her ear and a Grupin's jaw narrowly missed her wrist, it was a mite harder, to be sure.

Clenching a fist, Isako felt herself melt into darkness just as several bursts of ice passed through where she had been fractions of a second ago. She waited for a moment before dispelling the arte and then lashing out with all her strength, feeling the dagger strike down another of her prey in turn.

Isako gave her enemies no quarter as she wielded the skills fate had granted her- pure agility, speed, and the short, flame-hardened steel blade of a Kandine hand cutter. Grupin after grupin fell at her feet, which themselves were dashing about the ground so quickly it was near impossible to predict her exact location at any given moment. She was nowhere, yet she seemed to strike everywhere at once.

Ironically, because she was so engrossed in hunting her prey, she had no idea of the threat that would soon befall her- the incident that would change her life forever, whether she wanted it to or not. If, perhaps, she had looked up earlier, realized the truth, she might have been spared fate's cruel whim.

As destiny would have it, the beam of ice came first.

It struck Isako squarely in the shoulder, so cold it almost seemed to burn her. The initial stab-like sensation gave way to a cold, blunt pain that throbbed away in her shoulder, as if she'd kept her arm in a freezer overnight. Swearing under her breath, Isako turned around and expected to see a Grupin.

Instead, she saw them for the first time.

They seemed so alien, so unreal-looking, that at first Isako thought they were demons, ghosts, extraterrestrials- anything except human. Then, as she got her bearings back, she realized they were indeed people, though they certainly didn't look like the normal travelers she was used to seeing walking the street.

There were four of them, Isako counted. The apparent leader was a warrior, which she figured out after recognizing the oddly twisted object at his belt as a two-handed sword. His armor was unlike that of any warrior she'd ever seen before- adorned with large, lethal-looking spikes at the shoulder plates, joints, neck, and in fact almost everywhere. His helmet concealed his entire face save for his eyes, which Isako made the mistake of looking into. They were a dark piercing crimson.

And the others- there was a bowman, his head covered by a hawkshead helmet that concealed his features as well as the warrior, his clothes more a suit of armor than the customary robe. In fact, they all seemed to be dressed like warriors- intricately carved and forged plates of metal covered all four of them, and similarly wore helmets that concealed their faces. The other two were magicians, which she could only figure out after seeing their weapons. In all other respects, they were nearly indistinguishable from melee fighters, albeit strangely-dressed melee fighters.

Not surprisingly, it took her a good few seconds to find her voice. "Who the hell are you?"

The warrior- or rather, the leader, as Isako found it too confusing to think of him in those terms- chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound. "That is what I have been meaning to ask you."

Isako was about to reply when her newer, more militant attitude switched itself into play. _Fuck him. _Straightening herself slightly, she worded her reply carefully. "I came here before you did. I think I deserve an answer."

That earned her nothing except for a second chuckle. The fact that she couldn't see his face only made it all the more unnerving._ "_You speak as if you own the property we stand on."

"It's not like you do, either." Isako retorted, feeling her momentary intimidation subside into indignation. "This is free territory."

"Free is a relative term, my dear." Isako could almost imagine all of them smiling, ugly smiles beneath their curved helmets that looked like the heads of decapitated monsters.

"Who are you?" she asked, her tone somewhat mellower. In an effort to compensate, she loudly added, "And why are you here?!"

Isako felt the gazes of all four settle on her as the leader said, "You ask too many questions."

"You haven't given me any answers." she retorted, somewhat surprised by her own defiant tone.

"You won't need them," came the reply, so soft Isako barely heard it.

She noticed the warrior's hand began to rise, but it was too late.

Out of nowhere, a Grupin suddenly seemed to rocket out of the sky, heading towards her on a straight trajectory; and although Isako had been trained as a bandit to know how to dodge projectiles, this was different, too fast, too much, too quick, and in moments she found herself flying through the air with a throbbing body to match her injured shoulder. She hit the ground with a dull thud and tasted blood.

There were laughs behind her, colder than any ice, sharper than any blade.

As Isako staggered to her feet, Velm's voice seemed to float into her head from miles away.

_I think...that you've made some enemies in bad places, Isako._

She wondered if these were the enemies he had been referring to...and if so, how much of a mess she had gotten herself into.

"What do you want?" she asked, not recognizing her own voice anymore. It hurt slightly when she spoke.

There was no answer. The silence scared her more than anything.

"Who are you?!" she cried, out of a mixture of frustration and fear.

Again, the cold silence.

Then, one of the magicians raised his staff, its head glowing with a sinisterly blue light.

Isako didn't wait any longer.

She lunged forward, the Kandine firmly in her grip, and lashed out with a desperate, wild slash. Her knife impacted nothing but empty air, and yet the maneuver had surprised her opponents enough for her to earn a quick half-second of time.

In that half-second, she abruptly turned on her heel and lunged once more- this time at the nearest magician, aiming directly for his heart.

He brought his staff down to meet her wrist, and Isako felt her arm shake with recoil as it hit the magic-reinforced guard. In the back of her mind, she expected all four of them to attack her at once...and yet, strangely, for whatever reason, they did nothing, only watched her with their soulless eyes.

She had no idea.

Isako barreled forward with the sudden speed and strength of an Assaulter slash, and yet the wizard was able to block the blow with near-inhuman speed. In the frame of time she got close to him, she saw she was mistaken- instead of the helmet he seemed to wear, it was actually a fabric hood, made to appear metallic in the sunlight. His armor seemed a composite of warrior plates and magician's robes, ribs and panes of metal interconnected by sections of durable weave.

Turning around in midair, Isako swung the knife in a roundabout arc at the magician's hood, intending to slash his neck. With the practiced, deliberate movement of a trained fighter, he blocked the blow with his staff as if it were a jousting lance. Undeterred, Isako launched into a series of blindingly fast slashes and stabs in midair, intending to break his guard by sheer force.

She failed. The magician parried her blows with relative ease as she fell, alighting herself awkwardly on the ground. Her brow was covered with sweat, and yet the mysterious figures seemed unblinking.

Instantly, she cast Dark Sight on herself, feeling her body dissolve into the darkness around her. Moving quickly, she dispelled the arte and attempted to launch herself forward in a surprise attack. The bowman blocked her slash with the limbs of his bow, as did the warrior and magician when she lunged at them in rapid succession. They all seemed to be purely on the defensive, refusing to directly attack or do anything other than block her advances...almost mocking her, telling her she couldn't win.

In a surge of pent-up frustration and anger, Isako charged forward through the air at the magician once more, her arm outstretched as if intending to stab him through the heart.

He caught the blade of her dagger lengthwise with the staff, the tip of the knife pressed perfectly against the hard crystal of the shaft. Then, with a sudden downward whip of his wrist, he wrenched the kandine out of her grip. There was an audible noise as it hit the stone walkway.

For the first time, Isako truly felt a cold fear grip her.

Despite being unarmed, however, she still found the impulse to lash out at him- and that was exactly what she did. Totally surprised at her sudden movement, the magician did not even raise his staff to block- and Isako seized ahold of his hood at the neck, ripping it completely off his head.

The effect was as if he had fired a gun into her heart at point-blank range.

Frozen out of complete disbelief and shock, Isako felt her knees give way as she stared up into Velm Collet's scarred, cold face. The earlier warmth, the carefreeness, the humor in his expression- it had completely vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place. His eyes remained unmercifully focused on her, the pupils of cold ice bearing down upon her with the force of an avalanche.

"Velm." Isako whispered, too soft for anyone but herself to hear.

His gaze did not falter as he beheld the woman whom he had once claimed to love. He raised his staff, its icy glow casting a pallid, inhuman sheen over his sandy hair and scarred face.

"You and I should never have met," he said harshly.

The expression on his face- gaunt, thin-lipped, unsmiling- reminded her of when they had first met, when he had chased that spearman away. But having it actually directed at her was another thing altogether. Isako stared despairingly into Velm's grim expression, feeling more betrayed than angry. Desperately, her eyes met his ice-blue pupils, searching for just a fragment of a trace of the affection he had once shown her- a strand of a thread of the connection they had once shared.

There was none.

"Goodbye, Isako." Velm said coldly, the glowing orb of his staff beginning to blot everything else out with its light.

The last thing she saw was the mere silhouette of his scarred expression in the blinding light, somehow every edge, every line in his expression still as sharp even in plain light, before the world seemed to vanish.

Her body blown against the ground by the force of the spell, Isako Sakagami's eyes remained despairingly open even as she descended into a slumber she would not wake from.

Velm continued to eye the body with contempt, before lowering his staff. Gradually, the icy light faded from its core.

The warrior spoke first. "I expected you to kill her, Collet."

The ice wizard made no reply, merely continuing to hold his gaze on the fallen girl.

"Did you...know her?" the bowman spoke up, his voice oddly loud in the tangible silence.

Velm raised his eyes briefly. "It's none of your business."

The bowman's eyes looked unconvinced, but he silenced himself nevertheless.

"What are you going to do with her?" the warrior's voice asked once more. "Leave her in the custody of the Incarae, perhaps?"

"That won't be necessary." Velm said flatly, sliding his staff into what looked like a holster on his back. "The Grupins can do with her as they please."

The warrior looked skeptical. "Only dead souls tell no tales, Collet."

"Yeah? Well, you and the rest of the Azurae can go to hell for all I care."

Both the bowman and the other magician's eyes flickered to the warrior for a response, but there was none. Instead, he merely gripped the hilt of his sword. "If that's all we came to do, I suppose we can leave now."

"Then go." Velm's gaze flickered skyward for a moment. "I've got some cleanup to do."

The warrior nodded, before turning his gaze to the other magician. She wordlessly drew a blue-tinted marble-like stone from a seam in her armor and crushed it in her fingers, scattering the dust through the air. Instantly, a mystic portal materialized where the dust landed, its inside glowing a pure white.

As taciturn as ever, the three Arcruxians filed past Velm as they entered the portal, disappearing into the light.

Velm's eyes rested briefly on the fallen bandit, lying motionless in the Garden of Green, before his eyebrows seemed to knit together in frustration. As though having accepted a difficult moral choice, he began to walk towards her, his footsteps echoing across the empty garden.

Having reached her, Velm knelt and touched first her forehead, then the side of her neck, for a pulse. There was none discernible. Her skin felt slightly cold to the touch.

He inclined his head slightly towards her. A strange hot, itchy sensation was beginning to manifest in his temples as he looked down at her; he reached up to rub his eyes. His fingers came away wet.

Velm Collet crossed his tearstained fingers and laid them over Isako's heart before he rose to his feet.

The portal vanished as he walked through it, leaving behind the one person he had thought he cared for.

--

_So, how'd you like it?_

_This may sound a bit repetitive (and annoying), but please try to leave a decent, relevant review. Maybe just a paragraph, a few sentences, but do state what you liked. You can also state what you didn't like, even though I'll be slightly unhappy, but hey. Constructive criticism is better than nothing. And you know, I'll write faster with inspiration (coughchapter26cough). Please, people. Reviews are more important than you know._

_-K__al Ancalas_

_--_

_**Isako Sakagami's story will continue in Revolt of the Archers II: Final Apocalypse, coming in 2009.**_


	27. A note: Confessions Of A Mad Author

Hey, guys.

Um…so, wow.

Yeah.

Excuse me a minute. This could take a bit.

You, uh, might want to turn away and read _My Immortal _or something if you don't like sappy stuff. Just a thought.

* * *

It's been a while. To say the least.

A lot of you…well, I'm going to be frank here, I don't know exactly what you guys must be thinking about me right now. I imagine it probably involves a lot of pitchforks, death threats, and unkind descriptions of my mother, but I'll get to that later.

To be honest, me coming back on here was an accident, pure and simple. For all of 2009, and, let's face it, most of 2010 as well, I forgot that FF ever existed.

I've been on this site longer than I'd care to admit, and usually, when somebody quits, it's rather sudden. A few authors I knew, bless them, left this way. There was always an "aha" moment, a sudden spark of intuition coming down on them with the force of a thunderbolt, screaming "_what the fuck are you doing with your life?" _

And then they left.

Frankly, I kind of almost wish the same thing had happened to me. In retrospect, I realize that as much as I want to tell myself otherwise, I never _really _intended to quit and leave everything hanging. Truth be told, the identity I'd cultivated on FF at that point was nothing short of a twin brother, a dual persona I was all too willing to slip into in order to relieve myself from the pressures of real life.

I am told a lot of fanfic authors do this, but I digress.

My exit was anything but sudden. If anything, you could say it's still going on up to this very minute, and this note is a kind of clumsy attempt at closure. When I said I forgot FF existed a couple of paragraphs above, that's not entirely true. I did truly forget about it for several months, but every once in a while, I'd log on to my account, just for the hell of it, like the old times where, the morning after I'd posted a new chapter of Revolt or something, I'd race red-eyed to the computer to see how many new reviews I'd garnered overnight. Kind of like a visit from Santa or the Easter Bunny or something.

The difference here was that I didn't want to read the reviews anymore.

I wish I could pinpoint a reason- _any_ reason for why I stopped updating for a long time. Perhaps it'd be easier for me- and for all of you- to come to terms with this whole episode if that were the case. Sadly, things are never that simple.

For a long time, I told myself it was writer's block. I kept telling myself and everybody else that until 2008 turned into 2009, and 2009 turned into 2010, and then I realized I couldn't really say that anymore without losing what little self-respect I had left. I'm ashamed to admit that that's always been a favorite scapegoat of mine, but I defy you to find another person on this site that doesn't operate the same way. Show me one, and I'll show you a liar. Or a better writer than I am, at any rate.

I can say that because, looking back, I realize that's what I was while I was writing: a big pathological liar building a pyramid out of my own spider-silk falsehoods, never knowing that my end wasn't a question of _if, _it would be a question of _when._

(See, I can actually make up decent sentences now.)

* * *

The "accident" I referred to above was actually a series of accidents, a long butterfly-effect chain of individual links that converged into the confession you're reading right now.

The first thing that happened was that I played the video game _Trauma Team_. (I know this seemingly has nothing to do with the story, but bear with me for a moment here.) I've always been a great fan of the _Trauma Center _series, even if it is fiendishly difficult to the point that there is a slight Wiimote-shaped dent on my bedroom wall to this day. _Trauma Team _was a slight step down from the series, in my opinion (no more GUILT? God_damn_ it, Atlus), but it was still a very good game, and it planted a seed of an idea in my mind.

Normally, when I get ideas, they turn out to be Bad Things, but I'm unsure how to rate this particular one. After you finish reading this, I'll let you judge for yourself.

* * *

The second thing that happened was that I went to college in a pretty big city in the midwestern region of North America. College is usually the "aha" catalyst and the death knell for all but the most dedicated fanfic writers. I would blame college for this whole thing except for the fact that 1) that's a load of bullshit, and I knew it, and 2) I was already lying to myself about the writer's block thing, and I didn't need another alibi to juggle.

I almost had my "aha" moment when I got off the plane and stepped onto campus. I probably should have had it half a year earlier, when I got my acceptance letter in the mail, but I was still in a writer's block haze (and I now realize I can't use that term without feeling a little icky inside).

I was 18 then. I was an _adult_, about to be born again into the oft-quoted _real world_, and as far as I was concerned, fanfiction had no place in the realm I was about to inherit. I had other things to worry about, bigger fish to fry. Revolt was nothing more than an open-ended footnote in the second or third chapter of my life; it was something I could tell my grandkids about decades from now, just to get them to say how stupid my generation was. Posting stories about a game on the internet. Puhleeze, Grandpa.

I would probably still be thinking that to this day if I hadn't walked in on one of my floormates reading Harry Potter fanfiction on this very site.

In such a situation, most people would hurriedly Alt-Tab and pray that the other person mistook the blue-white layout for Facebook or some other site, but said floormate, for better or worse, is a hardass. He doesn't give a shit what other people think. (A lot of people in college are like that.)

"Dude, you read _fanfiction?" _I tried to put as much derision on the last word as possible, ignoring the hypocrisy crystallizing in my stomach.

He looked at me as if I'd just misstated the Banach-Tarski paradox.

(He's also a math major. Math majors are serious hardasses.)

"Yeah." His answer was as nonchalant as if I'd asked him to calculate the tip on a restaurant check, or something. "What? It's a good story."

I decided not to tell him that I was an author on the site, or that my crowning achievement was writing over half a million words about a Korean MMORPG that everyone played for a couple of months in middle school and then left for Starcraft at the earliest opportunity.

I nonchalantly pretended to read over his shoulder for a couple of minutes, then left.

(As it turned out, the Harry Potter fic actually was a good story, but that's neither here nor there.)

The third thing that happened was that I went on FF- for real, this time- and decided to send a personal message to a certain someone.

* * *

If you've been on FF for any significant amount of time, you always find one author that you absolutely idolize- the first author who makes you think that fanfiction is not all complete garbage, and that there might actually be something in them besides a lot of blatant Mary Sue-ing and love scenes insulting to the sexuality of all organisms on Earth.

(After typing that, I just got the half-heartwarming, half-horrifying thought that for a lot of people, _I _might be that author. In which case I have to say: sorry for being a crap role model.)

For privacy reasons, I will not reveal the identity of my idol author. (That, and the fact that if you ever read one of his fics, it will make everything I've ever written look like tauntaun poo.) I will, however, tell you what I wrote to him. I've never told anyone else this, either, so besides him, you guys are the first to hear about this.

I told him that I loved his work. Really loved it. Loved it so much that if they ever build a machine to anthropomorphize text, I would be the first to make love to his stories. (Okay, I didn't use that exact phrase, but that's roughly what I was trying to convey.) I told him that I originally started out on this site as a foul-mouthed preteen who used too many poop jokes, but after reading his work, I was convinced that fanfiction was as worthy a medium of art as anything else.

I also told him that I'd written my college application essay about his fanfiction, and that I'd got into my dream school because of it.

Yeah.

I wish I were making this up.

After I'd finished pouring out my guts into the little sickly-blue text box, I clicked the send button. There was a moment where I thought "_Hey, this could end up being a Really Bad Idea", _but at that point, it was a bit late for regrets. Plus, I was counting on the fact that most authors never answer their private messages, using myself as an example.

I did not expect him to write back.

I also did not expect him to offer his sincere congratulations and well-wishes, instead of asking me to get bent.

I won't get into everything he said, but one thing in particular resonated- that he didn't write for blood, guts, or glory. An anonymous office worker at some design or animation company, he wrote because he wanted to- because he saw the joy in it- and inspiring others to do so was about the highest validation he could hope to achieve.

He ended by telling me to never stop writing, and wished me a happy school year.

After that, I opened up Word and started writing about Trauma Team.

And that's how I ended up back here.

* * *

As a writer, it's always fun (and necessary, I would argue) to read things you've written earlier in your life to see how much you've improved since then. For me, however, the process was so cathartic that it almost hurt, and after reading one old story, I was afraid to read the rest.

I tried, though.

Besides noticing that FF completely ruined my formatting and section lines, I realized that the progress I've made as a writer, as small as it may be, was nevertheless exponential in regards to where I started.

There is a lot of shit I've written that I'm not particularly proud of, which is all the more painful because I know that at some point, I was naïve enough to believe it was good enough to publish, good enough for me as a good writer.

When you read your own writing, it isn't just words and grammar that you absorb. For better or for worse, it's a powerful tool for mental recall, and when you read these things, you remember not only the words but your state of mind when you wrote them, and what possessed you to arrange them in one way and not another. That, in particular, made me realize something unpleasant, but it was something that I know I have to confront if I want to advance as an author.

A lot of my earlier works are- there's no getting around it- bad. They would be perfect poster children for reinforcing all the negative stereotypes that give fanfiction much of its stigma today. There are things I've written that literally made me cringe, things that made me say, out loud, "What were you _thinking _when you thought this was a good idea?", and then I'm quiet because I know the answer. Incidentally, if I ever read the phrase "like a hot knife through butter" again, I think I will throw up in my mouth a little.

Being an amateur writer isn't a crime, though. This is the reason I don't believe in flaming, even if my first instinct is that the guy really deserves it, because rogue and rouge are _not_ the same damn thing; everyone, and I mean, everyone (except my idol writer, of course) has room for improvement, and most people on this site do not _consciously _set out to write a bad story, so you cannot honestly blame them. However, when I reread my own works years after writing them, there is something that makes me wince more than any bad grammar could.

Arrogance.

When I reread my stories, I couldn't help feeling the ego was so thick, oozing out from between the lines, that you could probably cut it with a knife if you tried. This holier-than-thou attitude is one of the few things I've genuinely despised about fanfiction, and realizing that I was guilty of it the whole time only twists the knife further.

This isn't more evident anywhere than in Revolt, and all the sub-stories it spawned. You could say that I let all the fame go to my head, which some reviews actually did note. I suspect a lot more people would have said this, but were too polite to. The Irrelevant Intercept "filler" chapters I did are the worst offenders by far, which are, upon closer inspection, basically huge rants about my oh-so-criminally low review-to-hit-ratio and how everyone who complains about my writing style and my non-canonicity can take their complaints and shove them up their capes. I'd put some excerpts here, but it makes me feel uneasy just copying them, let alone pasting.

Suffice it to say I was a bit of a jerk, and it shows.

You might say I stopped writing Revolt after Chapter 26, but really, I stopped writing after the first filler chapter- _really _writing, without regard to blood, guts, or glory. I wasn't writing for myself anymore, I was writing for a huge monstrous amalgam of my own desire for fame, expecting reviews like payments on stock dividends. When I said reading your own writing is the perfect memory recall device, I mean it. There are parts I literally remember rushing through, or borderline plagiarizing from another source, just to meet the imaginary deadline from my own greedy subconscious. Some scenes- in the later chapters especially- are just patchwork, like Frankenstein made text, where you can just _see _me trying to hold the plot together like a patient in a psych ward. I'm not particularly proud of them either.

I think I realized this myself, subconsciously, when I wrote the fake previews for Chapter 27 of Revolt and tried to pass them off as stories. Yes, they were good for a cheap laugh, which I kind of needed, but all they were were futile attempts to stave off a deadline that I knew in my heart I couldn't make, because my heart wasn't in it anymore. I no longer had control over Revolt at this point. Instead of the innocent epic I'd wanted to write, it had become a hungry _thing _that I had to feed, corrupted by my own desire.

It probably goes without saying that I had no plans to write Revolt II, either. That was another lie.

The thing that really got to me when I was rereading Revolt were the characters' death scenes. Every time I read myself killing a character, I almost cried- not because the scenes were sad, but because reading them years from now made it feel like I was milking their demises for a cheap upsurge in reviews.

Which I guess, deep down, amidst all the author's notes and yells to review more, was what I had been aiming for all along.

After I killed Ascion, I had to stop reading.

I wish I could say that it's just a story about MapleStory, big deal, get over it, but that would be a slap in the face to everyone who's ever written a story about MapleStory, and everyone who's ever written fanfiction at all. Just because it's about MapleStory doesn't give you the right to slack off because it's not about Final Fantasy or something, and just because it's fanfiction of all things doesn't give you the right to slack off because it's not a "real" story.

Besides, it wasn't just any story.

It was Revolt of the Archers.

* * *

_Okay, folks, we're going to take a quick five-minute intermission to let you recover from the unsafe levels of melodrama you've just been exposed to. Get up, maybe take a drink of water. Go for a stroll. Read a story- a real one. Loljk. But seriously, do take a breather. That can't be healthy for you._

_Ready? Right. Let's move on. The best is yet to come._

_

* * *

_

You can imagine how much I wanted to read the hundred or so reviews I'd amassed over the years, after wading through so much of my own hubris. I can't tell you how many times I moved my cursor over the number only to jerk it away, promise myself I'd do it later, and go on Facebook or something. The prospect literally made my stomach turn. No points for guessing why.

Eventually, though, I realized I was just being a coward. Besides, there was no way I could let myself publish this thing without doing so.

I had to do it in an empty room, though, because I kind of expected that my eyes and head would explode from the rays of hate emitted by my computer screen, and I didn't want to make a mess.

That was not what happened. After the fourth page or so, I cried.

Just a little.

I swear.

I know that might not be the most flattering thing to make public on the internet, but going from rereading through all my previous faults, to reading about how much people loved the story in spite of them, wanted me to continue, still had their bloody _faith _in me even after all those delays, those fake-outs, and my running away because I just couldn't take it anymore.

What a mood whiplash that was.

You guys are fucking awesome. Even the death threats for not updating were supportive in their own way. Just amazing.

I wish I could have given you better. Yes, all of you, even you guys in the back row there.

You deserve it.

* * *

There are some parts of me that say I never should have written Revolt, that it was an example of fanboyism completely gone off the deep end. Like the classic mad-scientist-monster movie, it got too big for me to control. I was destroyed by my own creation. I tried to bite off more than I could chew. Name your cliché.

But ultimately, I don't regret it. I do regret turning into a giant review-monger and grinding out chapters like an overworked soap opera machine, but I don't regret writing Revolt in the first place.

When I first reread the story- the first few chapters, before all that filler crap and sub-stories and previews that never came to materialize- I saw some pretty sloppy writing that I'm a little bit ashamed of.

But I also saw a soul struggling to emerge, a spirit wanting to fly free and plant the seed of a fourteen year-old boy's imagination, a voice that demanded to be heard by _someone_.

A lot of people have told me that I've inspired them to write their own Maple stories. That, if anything, is probably the most gratifying, even more so than the reviews that tell me I'm awesome and I deserve a castle made out of Zakum Helms. I finally understand, maybe, how my idol writer felt when I wrote him that message a couple months back telling him how he'd inspired me in the first place. Maybe it isn't about blood, guts, and glory after all.

Maybe fanfiction, and writing, is about something more.

* * *

One more thing I made myself do before I let myself publish this is play MapleStory myself, just one more time. I thought I'd forgotten my password and PIN a long time ago, but lo and behold, when I went to the Nexon web site just for kicks, there was an option that told me I could reset my password and PIN.

What did I have to lose?

I turned on my old PC and began to download the game client. While I did so, I had a cursory look around the interwebs about how much the game had changed these past years. I wanted to see if it was the same world I remember whiling away my middle school hours in.

I wanted to see if it was the same one that inspired me.

I only skimmed the relevant pages, but as far as I could tell, there was a thing called a Big Bang, and a bad guy called a Black Mage, and a lot of new islands, and a lot of new, "corrupted" classes, with guns, panthers, robots, and the like. And you could get to level 30 within a day, if my friend (who is almost as much of a sucker for this stuff as I am) was to be believed.

It's probably not an accident that my first thought was "This sounds like a really bad fanfiction." I should know.

As it turned out, my lovely old PC made the game nearly unplayable, because MapleStory is not quite as fun when it takes you all of 5 seconds to press the space bar and use Strafe, during which some level 150 guy with a spear twice as big as he is comes up and nukes the entire map with something that looks like it belongs in an episode of Gurren Lagann. That, and apparently the Big Bang screwed up _every single map in the game_. Yeah. Finding my way around Henesys was a treat. Still, I did find the Stone Golem Temple, so that's something, I guess.

I don't want to say that, like me, MapleStory lost sight of what was important somewhere along the way. Perhaps modern gaming culture is as depraved as people say it is, and that MMORPGs like this one are nothing more than a diversion for children to curse at each other, idling their time away all the while.

Or perhaps there are people still out there: people who, even as they mash their keyboards to oblivion as they struggle for the next level or the next scroll, look deeper, and realize that there might be something within.

Nexon did at least one thing right, though. They kept the music for Ellinia.

Like before, it was beautiful.

* * *

All this time, I've left the biggest and most obvious question for last: will I ever, perhaps, get around to finishing Revolt?

I don't know.

Perhaps it would be easier for me if I simply said no, but at this point, I've come to realize that Revolt is not just about me anymore. Whether I like it or not, it's become too big for that, and to kill it off would bring me closure only at the expense of others.

Looking back at what my fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen year-old self wrote so long ago, it would be criminally easy to make something up; to finish with a penultimate revelation, a massive, decidedly noncanon final battle, some more penultimate revelations, and an ending in which everyone may or may not live happily ever after. That would not be impossible to do.

The problem is, I don't want to do it.

My old demons are whispering over my shoulder: _They'll be happy with whatever you throw at them. Hell, they're fucking pissing themselves that you're alive at all. Just do it and put everyone out of their misery._

What I would really like to do is rewrite Revolt; to make it the story I meant it to be, before the cliches and the filler and the months of ignoring constructive criticism I should have listened to instead.

Half a million words.

It would require nothing short of hard, unrelenting work, and perpetual strokes of brilliance to pick up where the holes in my plot left off.

It would require me to search deep down within myself to find the passion I once held, find it and bring it back to the surface, polish it like a gem.

It would require countless hours- hours of my adult life, not in a childhood where I had hours to spare.

In short, it would be a hell of a job.

But again, it would not be impossible to do.

* * *

_To everyone: thank you, so much. You've been a great crowd._

_-Kal Ancalas, 12/29/10_


End file.
